The Magic Of Torchwood
by Bella The Strange
Summary: The Torchwood team have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Set between Adam and Reset. Rated T because of Jack Harkness, swearing, mature themes, slash etc... it's Torchwood!
1. When I Said Everything Changes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own it, nobody said I own it, you can't prove I own it!

**Author's Note**: This idea had been pottering around (pun intended) inside my head for a while, and when I finally saw Half-Blood Prince when it came out on DVD, I just couldn't get the idea to stop bugging me... so here we are.

x x x

**Chapter 1: When I Said 'Everything Changes'... I Didn't Expect This!**

x x x

Jack woke up to the sound of Gwen Cooper yelling in horror, "_JACK FUCKING HARKNESS, GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!_"

He stretched, and wondered just how the sound of Gwen's voice managed to carry down to his room when even the rift alarm would have failed to wake him if he hadn't installed an extension for it down here. Either way, he could tell this was going to be a long day before he even opened his eyes.

Perhaps opening his eyes was the mistake. Or maybe it was waking up in the first place. He wasn't quite sure.

He had known something felt wrong from the moment he had been so rudely awakened, but actually looking around him had proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. It had been one of those really tiring Weevil-hunting days, yesterday... he very clearly remembered bringing Ianto to bed with him last night, although nothing more than both of them falling asleep from exhaustion had actually happened.

Now, however, he found himself being determinedly hugged by a young boy, who was clearly equally determined to try to ignore Gwen by burying his face in Jack's chest. "Does she ever sleep? She's more of a morning person than you!" the boy grumbled, and the familiar Welsh accent was all Jack needed to realise that, in spite of appearances, this was still Ianto.

It took him a few moments to realise what else was wrong, here... that someone so young shouldn't still be in the same relative proportions to Jack himself, unless they had _both_ been de-aged.

He nudged Ianto, who swatted at his hand and mumbled, "Sleep, Jack."

"I think Gwen was swearing loudly for a reason." Jack pointed out, almost amused, if he weren't suddenly so annoyed at the higher pitch of his own voice.

This did draw Ianto's attention to the fact that something was wrong, though... and he looked up at Jack now. "Oh shit." he muttered, eyes wide with surprise and confusion.

"_JACK, IANTO, GET THE HELL UP HERE, NOW!_" another voice yelled down from the Hub. This one sounded more like a boy's voice, as well... and Jack had the unsettling feeling that it was probably Owen.

"I think we'd better do as they say..." Jack suggested, sitting up and deciding it best not to say 'this could have been worse', lest he think of exactly how.

"Y-yeah." Ianto said, quite clearly thinking the same thing, as he quickly scrambled out of bed and tried to find his clothes.

Jack looked around, idly considering just how ridiculous The Coat would look on him, now... and deciding not to wear it, until this strange event was resolved. He too began to try to get dressed in clothes that were far too big for him.

x x x

Up in the main room of the Hub, a twelve-year-old Gwen Cooper sat at her desk, feet up on her chair and arms wrapped around her knees. Her top managed to actually fit, which must say something about how incredibly tight it had been normally, and her jeans were rolled up past where the knees would usually have been.

A very pissed off looking Rhys hovered nearby, glaring around at the rest of the room's inhabitants. He, apparently, had not been affected by whatever this was.

Tosh, who looked no older than ten, was typing furiously at her keyboard, kneeling on her chair because it was easier than trying to adjust its height to fit her younger appearance. An eleven-year-old Owen was inhaling takeout coffee, and pacing like a maniac. Both were wearing their usual work-clothes, shirts too big for them, Owen's pants rolled up like Gwen's, and Tosh's normally short skirt falling past her knees.

It was to this scene that Jack finally emerged from his office, closely followed by Ianto.

"_WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON, JACK!_" Owen yelled, as soon as they appeared.

Jack might have laughed at Owen's voice, if his own hadn't been similarly affected. Instead, he ignored that and answered the question with an excessively ironic tone. "Well..." Jack said, looking around the room, "It looks like we've all somehow been de-aged. I'm guessing eleven, twelve?"

"Sounds about right." Ianto said, nodding, "And since Rhys- what's he doing here, by the way?- obviously didn't get affected, maybe it was caused by something on last night's mission?"

"He's here because he wants to know why his fiancee suddenly started glowing at midnight, and turned into a kid right before his eyes!" Rhys snapped.

"Glowing? Midnight?" Ianto asked sceptically, glancing at Jack.

"Would explain why we didn't notice anything until we woke up." Jack observed. They had gotten to sleep at around eleven.

"Midnight sounds very specific, though..." Ianto muttered.

"Yeah, well I was at home, drinking." Owen snarked, "Apparently suddenly transforming into a kid, and already having a large amount of alcohol in my system, not a good combination... so I passed out." and the overly cheerful way he said that was practically dripping with sarcasm.

"Be thankful drinking's all you were doing, Owen." Ianto said bluntly, causing Owen to stare at him with blatant shock at that suggestion.

"I just woke up like this, too." Tosh admitted, barely glancing up from her computer, "And I can't find anything in the database that could cause this sort of thing."

"So what, we're stuck like this until we grow up again?" Owen demanded, horrified at the very idea of possibly having to go through puberty again.

"It could have been worse." Jack observed, grinning, "We could have been completely regressed to childhood, rather than just physically."

Gwen's eyes went even wider, "What, you mean thinking and acting like children?"

"And memory loss, too, I'd imagine." Jack added.

Ianto shuddered, "Thank god that didn't happen."

"Yet." Tosh said ominously, continuing to search the computer for a reference to this sort of thing. "Oh! I've got something." everyone crowded around the computer, as it beeped loudly, "It's... it's a video message... from Jack?"

"Time paradoxes are fun, aren't they?" Jack's voice- his adult voice- came from the computer, as he appeared in the video image, grinning with a sort of bemusement, "Hello Ianto, Tosh, Gwen, Owen, and... um, me. I'm not going to remember this, once it's over... but after everything that's happened, I don't see the big deal in breaking the first law of time to let you guys know what's happened to you, and what you need to do next."

"Law of time?" Gwen asked, looking at Jack curiously.

"Never tell anyone their future. Especially yourself." he answered, shrugging as the recording continued.

"Last night you found an artifact, looked like a piece of rock-crystal about the size of my fist. All five of you handled it, and then this happened. What you need to do next is all five of you touch it, at the same time. No, that won't reverse it, but what happens next will be a good thing... eventually."

"Eventually?" Owen asked sceptically.

But the recording had only one more thing to say, "Ianto. When you touch the crystal, you'll understand. You'll need to explain everything to the others. And me. You'll see me soon."

x x x

Jack Harkness was none too fond of his job, so when he got the opportunity to take the weekend off he was more than eager to avoid Torchwood. Today, this managed to mean sitting at home reading a book. It was quiet, but it was better than sitting in the Hub listening to his boss pretend he wasn't capable of understanding her underhanded insults.

Very suddenly he heard a loud noise like a whip cracking, and he jumped up, going for his gun. He hesitated when he saw five children sprawling on the floor, as if they'd landed from a few feet in the air.

"Oh god, that was unpleasant." one boy said, looking around very sulkily, before freezing when he saw Jack... or more specifically, when he saw the gun in Jack's hand.

Jack stared at them all in shock, unsure how to react to their sudden appearance. He didn't put the gun down yet, though. He had no way of knowing whether they were some strange alien threat in disguise, or just a bunch of kids who got swept up in a riftstorm.

"I've had worse." another boy muttered, looking far more comfortable with the landing than the others, in spite of the fact that he had ended up on his back with the third boy on top of him. Something about this second boy seemed familiar to Jack, in a skin-crawlingly bad way, and that made him all the more determined to keep his gun on them.

The two girls picked themselves up quickly, to stand next to the first boy. "Where are we?" the slightly older-looking one asked, before her gaze fell on Jack and she fell silent. It didn't take long for all five of them to stand up, and all eyes were now on Jack.

"Anyone care to explain this?" Jack asked sceptically.

The second boy glanced at the others, then stepped forward, taking the lead, "I'm, well... I'm you." he said.

"I think I'd remember something like this..." Jack muttered.

"What year is it?" the boy asked, his gaze travelling around the room.

"Nineteen ninety-three." Jack answered with a frown.

"Yeah, thought this looked like the nineties..." the boy muttered, before announcing, "I'm from your future. Don't ask me why I look younger, because I don't know either, but none of us are really children."

"I'm twenty-six." the third boy muttered distractedly, eyeing an odd-looking bit of crystal in his hands warily.

Jack snorted, "This is ridiculous!" but then a solution occurred, "Prove it." he said, waving the gun at the boy who claimed to be himself. There was a resemblance, now that he thought about it, and if it was true then that could be the reason he felt uneasy about the boy... but there was no conclusive proof.

The boy hesitated, glancing at his four companions, but then he seemed to decide on an answer, "The first time I died was in the year two-hundred one-hundred, on the Gamestation orbiting Earth... I was shot by a Dalek." his voice wavered slightly at the mention of the Daleks, and Jack noticed the third boy tense at the word, too. "And I'd rather you not test whether I'm still immortal right now, since we both know that I wasn't, the last time I looked like this." he added, eyeing the gun nervously.

Jack took a step back, dropping the gun down onto the nearest table and falling back into the armchair next to it, "Wow..." he said, staring at the boy... at himself, "How is this possible?"

"Magic." the third boy said bluntly, and everyone turned to stare at him.

"What?" the first boy asked, "Did you hit your head on the way to the floor, or something? Magic? Are you serious?"

"Well. I have tried researching the phenomenon, it's why I joined Torchwood in the first place. I think it's caused by a genetic affinity to psyonic energy fields, interacting with latent telepathic and telekinetic potential. It can be enhanced using psyonic focus, but I've never actually had the chance to study it first-hand, because I haven't seen real magic since I was eight."

The silence that followed this was almost tangible.

Finally, the first boy broke it, though, "What a load of bollocks!"

"Watch your language, kid." Jack said almost automatically.

"Hey!" he snapped indignantly, pulling a face, "I'm twenty-nine... and I've got a name, y'know."

Jack rolled his eyes, but then his other self- from the future, looks younger, boy this could get confusing fast- said, "That's right, you don't know them yet. This is Owen Harper, Ianto Jones, Toshiko Sato, and Gwen Cooper." he indicated each of them in turn as he said this... then turned to face Ianto, "Magic...?"

The other boy- Ianto- nodded, "Yeah. Okay, basically there's an entire community hidden from the rest of the world. It's easy enough to use these magical abilities in the place of science, and magic was here first, so they tend to ignore most modern innovations. Who needs airplanes when you can teleport across the planet at the speed of light?"

"I can see the logic there." Jack's other self said with a bemused smile and a nod.

"They sort of cling on to older traditions, wearing robes and pointy hats... literally waving wands and making potions." Ianto continued, "My grandfather was a wizard, from a very old family... but my father didn't have the gift, so he severed contact with the magical world when it was proved that I couldn't learn it either." he smiled faintly, "I remember going to Diagon Alley with my grandfather, and getting magical candy. Things like white chocolate mice that literally chased their tails and squeaked... and jelly-beans in the most ridiculous flavours, like chicken curry, tea, or banana and crisps."

"Do they have jelly-babies that scream when you bite off their heads?" Jack's other-self asked very suddenly.

"Um... possibly." Ianto said, giving him an odd look... but no explanation was given for this bizarre question.

"So what makes you believe this is magic?" Toshiko asked, tilting her head slightly in her curiosity, "Or psyonic energy fields and telekinesis? Why not alien?"

Ianto held up the crystal, "This brought us here... and when it did, it felt exactly like a Portkey."

"What's a Portkey?" Owen asked.

"Magical form of transportation." Ianto said bluntly, "Pre-programmed to take a group of people anywhere in the world, travels at the speed of light. In theory you could go to the moon with a Portkey... as long as you had the space-suits, and programmed it in advance for the return journey. No one's ever bothered to try it, though. From what I've heard, most wizards still don't know about the moon-landings."

"This is the biggest load of bull I've ever heard." Owen muttered, turning and wandering off across the room, "Who doesn't know about the moon landings?"

Gwen stepped closer to Ianto, "It all seems a bit far-fetched, that's all, Ianto."

Ianto looked at her, "You work for Torchwood. How is this far-fetched?"

x x x

"You used to live here?" Ianto asked, scanning the room with unnerving interest. The entire living space was summed up in three rooms. The main kitchen/living/dining area, complete with only one chair and a very ratty couch- upon which he and Jack were currently sitting- a bathroom, and a closed door Ianto had not seen the other side of, but he felt that he could safely assume it was the bedroom.

Jack nodded, a bit defensively. He wasn't proud of his time at Torchwood before the twenty-first century, and he hadn't taken any joy in life during this time. It had felt meaningless, and his small apartment had reflected that quite clearly.

"It's... cosy." Ianto muttered.

"Nice word for small." Jack grumbled.

Ianto looked at Jack blankly for a moment, then said, "I was trying to be positive... I can tell you'd prefer it if I don't."

"Please." Jack agreed.

"So have you figured this out yet?" Jack's past-self asked, returning to the apartment with a bag of actual food, instead of the cold remains of whatever takeaway he'd eaten the previous night, "Because I know my boss will kill me if I she finds out this happened. More to the point, she'll maim me first."

"I don't think Carol ever really liked me that much." Jack stage-whispered to Ianto.

"I'm still not sure how this thing even works." Tosh said, peering up from the crystal she had been examining in the middle of the living room floor.

Jack's past-self shrugged, "I've got everything you asked for, clothes that should fit, food, tech- Toshiko, would you care to tell me how a CD player is supposed to help?- and to quote you precisely, Owen, 'enough alcohol to sedate a horse and enough coffee to keep it awake anyway'." he said, staring right at Owen as he spoke. Silence reigned for several seconds, during which Tosh and Gwen were giving Jack's past-self equal stares of incredulous amazement... but finally he couldn't help it and started laughing, "You guys have got to be kidding me, if you think I'd actually do that."

The way Owen's face fell at this was utterly hilarious, but Tosh smiled and Gwen took on something of a morally victorious expression. "But I need coffee!" Owen whined, "I suppose I can live without the alcohol, sure, but... coffee!"

Jack and Ianto both rolled their eyes at this, but then Jack heard something behind him and looked up to see his past self shaking up a can of coca cola and then throwing it at Owen. Owen caught it, but stared in confusion. "If you can drink that without it exploding, good luck. It's all the caffeine you're getting. Kid." Owen glared daggers, while everyone else started laughing.

The good humour was interrupted by a tapping sound on the window.

Everyone turned to stare. Five tawny owls were perched on the windowsill outside, in a neat little row. "It's The Birds!" Owen yelped, scrambling away from the window.

Ianto laughed, and stood up from the couch, quickly approaching the window, "How do you open this thing?"

Jack's past-self walked over to join him, and asked, "You sure it's safe? Your friend seems convinced we're suddenly in the middle of a Hitchcock film."

"Owls are like a wizard's substitute for the mailman." Ianto answered, "And these all have letters, look."

Jack warily approached them both, now... careful to keep far enough away that his past-self wouldn't accidentally touch him, because that could murder the timelines. He could see the neat envelopes attached to each owl by a string around one leg. He watched as his past-self opened the window, and all five owls immediately flew inside.

Tosh shrieked as one flew over and tried to land on her shoulder, it ended up on the floor in front of her instead as she scrambled away from it. Gwen stared, wide-eyed, as one landed on a table right next to her. Owen watched the one that fluttered up onto the kitchen counter next to him, like he thought it was going to turn into a Weevil and maul him.

Ianto was completely unfazed as he held out an arm, and one of the owls landed neatly there. Jack did his best to take a lead from that, pretending not to be bothered as the last owl alighted on his own shoulder.

Tosh backed away from her owl, which seemed to sense her trepidation, and didn't follow her. Instead it held out the leg that had the letter attached to it, effectively asking her to take it. After pecking at a few crumbs on the kitchen table, Owen's owl did the same.

"This is so weird." Gwen said, engaging her owl in a staring-match.

Jack turned to see Ianto had already taken the letter from his owl, and was now petting its feathery head affectionately. He glanced up at his own owl, perched on his shoulder, talons gripping only loosely into his shirt rather than digging into his flesh as one might have expected. It offered him the letter. Cautiously, he took it, muttering, "You said it, Gwen."

Jack's owl lightly pecked his ear, then took off out the window. Ianto's owl followed it.

Still eyeing his own owl like it was evil incarnate, Owen warily took the offered letter, "What if it's gonna explode, or something?" he asked.

"Those are usually red... I think." Ianto said dismissively. Everyone turned to stare at him, but he completely ignored them, too busy opening his letter instead.

Jack ran his fingers over the thick parchment of his own letter, "It's probably safe, guys..." he said, before having to suddenly lean back to avoid a collision with Owen's owl as it soared out the window.

Gwen was still staring at her owl, while Tosh tentatively reached out and snatched the letter away from her own owl. She immediately darted back away from the bird with obvious fear. The owl hooted, causing her to flinch, but then it simply turned and flew back out the window.

Finally, Gwen accepted the offered letter from her owl, still staring at it with eyes so wide Jack wondered if she was trying to compete with the bird. Its work here done, Gwen's owl ruffled its feathers and followed the other four, leaving only the odd parchment letters as evidence that that had just really happened.

"I don't believe this..." Ianto gasped, sounding totally shocked and awed, then he all-but shouted, "Guys, open your letters!"

Jack looked down at the parchment that his hands had already idly removed from its envelope and unfolded. The header in green ink read,

'_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_'

"What's a Mugwump?" Jack asked, and Ianto shrugged vaguely to express his lack of knowledge on this point, his attention still firmly held by his own letter.

"Dear Miss Cooper." Gwen read aloud, as Jack read his own name on his letter, "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September first. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."

"Hogwarts?" Owen asked, "What sort of name is that for a school?"

Ianto bristled at this, "It's supposed to be the best school of magic in the world, actually." he snapped, before continuing in a stunned whisper, "I was told I'd never be able to go there..."

"I don't understand." Tosh said, frowning as she scanned a second piece of parchment, "You said it was a genetic affinity, so how are any of us qualified for it?"

"This has got to be some sort of joke." Gwen protested weakly, also reading over the letter.

"I'm thinking the same thing, but for different reasons." Ianto told Gwen bluntly, before looking to Tosh, "I've no idea how we're 'qualified' to go to Hogwarts, Tosh... but they wouldn't have sent us the letters if we weren't. They don't make mistakes, I mean look at the address."

"How did they know where we were?" Owen demanded, mildly horrified as he stared at the ripped envelope of his own letter.

Ianto smiled, bemused, as he answered simply, "Magic."

x x x


	2. The Measuring Tape Never Lies

x x x

**Chapter 2: The Measuring Tape Never Lies**

x x x

They had arrived in this time only two days before the start of term, and after a brief debate they had come to the conclusion that whatever had brought them here clearly wanted them to go to Hogwarts... for some as-yet unknown reason. Given the fact that Jack himself had said this would be a good thing- even if he didn't know why, yet- it was decided that they would take the letters at face value, and go with it.

So it was that the next day the six of them had travelled to London, where Ianto assured them was the best place to buy all their school supplies. And besides, they'd need to catch the train in London, to actually get to the school. Jack's past-self had agreed to pose as a parent-figure, so that the five apparent-children wouldn't be seen wandering around an unfamiliar place all alone.

Besides, they needed money, and Jack's Torchwood salary was generous enough to cover this situation.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Gwen asked uncertainly, as Ianto led them into an unimportant-looking pub that they hadn't even noticed until he'd pointed it out to them. The sign above the door identified the establishment as '_The Leaky Cauldron_'.

"Positive." Ianto said, with a bemused smirk.

When they entered the pub, they noticed several things that were out of place. People were dressed differently, for a start... apparently, hats were in fashion, here. A couple of middle-aged women could be heard talking about beauty-potions. One man was reading a paper while a spoon was stirring his mug of tea all by itself.

Judging by the attire of these people, Jack's greatcoat- which his past-self was currently wearing- wouldn't look particularly out of place at all. In the real-world it drew attention and strange looks, but here. Nobody even looked up as they wandered in.

That was until, "Holy shit!" Owen declared quite loudly, staring at the man reading the paper. Or more specifically, the paper itself, "That picture just moved!"

Several people looked up at them, and Ianto rolled his eyes. Exasperated mutterings of, "Muggles." and, a fair few insults to Owen's upbringing in the area of manners could be heard.

"Way to blend in, Owen." Jack said cheerfully, patting him on the shoulder in a condescending way, before whispering to Ianto, "What's a Muggle?"

"Non-magical people." Ianto whispered back, careful to ensure that only the five of them could hear him. He then turned and approaching the bar, "Hello, sir." he said to the barman, "I'm Ianto Jones, I think you knew my grandfather, but it's been a few years...?"

"Ah, yes." the old man said, nodding, "Name's Tom... and you're Arawn's grandson, aren't you?" Ianto nodded, "I suppose you're just coming through for school supplies, then?" Tom eyed Jack's past-self sceptically, "And got no one able to let you into Diagon Alley, either."

Ianto tilted his head to one side, "I hate to be an inconvenience, sir." he said sharply, in a tone that seemed to suggest that Tom was being very rude.

"Oh, no inconvenience at all, Mr Jones. None at all." Tom grumbled, stepping out from behind the bar and leading them out the back... into a small yard that went nowhere.

"This isn't suspicious at all." Owen snarked, eyeing Tom with deep disapproval.

But then the old man took out what was quite obviously a magic wand, "Watch closely, now, children. You'd best remember which brick to tap." he said, and tapped his wand to a brick on the wall. They all stared in amazement, as the wall melted away to reveal a street behind it. Long, cobbled and crooked, it looked like something out of ye olde fairy-tale, "Good day to you, Mr Jones."

"Thank you, sir." Ianto called after the barman, as he retreated back into the pub. He then turned to face the others, grinning, "Ladies, gentlemen... and Jack." he added, glancing up at Jack's past-self as he said that, "Welcome to Diagon Alley."

Jack's past-self laughed, "Do I usually let him get away with that?"

Jack grinning, "And more." he said, as Ianto began to lead the way down the winding street.

"First thing's first." Ianto said cheerfully, "They don't take real money here, so we need to go to Gringotts- that's the bank- and exchange it for their currency."

"Do they take credit cards?" Tosh asked hopefully.

But this hope was to be dashed as Ianto shook his head, "Coins. And consider yourself warned, they don't believe in decimalisation, either."

They found the bank at the far end of the street, and hesitated outside it. Atop a flight of white stone steps was an unsettlingly tall, white building, fronted by burnished bronze doors that were far too big. A pair of small creatures flanked the doors, which were open, revealing smaller engraved silver doors within.

Tosh read the inscription on these inner doors, "_Enter stranger but take heed, of what awaits the sin of greed. For those who take but do not earn, must pay most dearly in their turn. So if you seek beneath our floors, a treasure that was never yours. Thief you have been warned beware, of finding more than treasure there_."

"Sounds friendly." Owen said brightly.

"Sounds ominous." Gwen corrected.

"I've never been in here, before." Ianto admitted, sounding wary, "But we're only coming in to exchange money, not rob the place."

"True." Jack's past-self said brightly, "Even I'd think twice about trying it on with this place."

The rest of them stared at him, and Jack sighed, "I used to be a thief and a con-artist. Is anyone here surprised?"

"Not really, no." Owen muttered, while the others shook their heads.

"John as good as said as much." Gwen put in, agreeing with Owen.

Jack stared at her in mild horror, "We don't talk about him." he ordered, eyes darting briefly at his past-self, before giving her a significant stare.

"Sorry." Gwen muttered, looking up at the bank, "Shall we go in, then?"

"Yes, let's." Jack's past-self said, leading the way, and showing no sign of being bothered by the fact they were clearly keeping something important from him.

Inside the building was clearly bigger than on the outside. This did not faze Jack or his past-self in the slightest, but the others did stare around in awe. Hundred of counters lined the main floor, each manned by one of those small creatures they had seen outside. Doors led off from behind these to who knew where. It was very impressive, really.

Jack's past-self approached the nearest desk, and spoke to the small creature with confidence, "I'm here to exchange some money." he said calmly.

"What are those things?" Owen asked, staring at the creatures.

"I'm not certain... but I think they're Goblins." Ianto said with a slight frown.

"Goblins?" Owen asked sceptically, "Jack, is he serious? There's got to be a more rational explanation than Goblins!"

"I don't recognise the species." Jack admitted, "And please don't forget the time we had to fight evil fairies."

Owen sulked, giving the nearest Goblin the evil eye. The Goblin returned the threatening stare with great intensity. Owen turned away first, which only caused him to sulk even more.

"Come on, Owen, don't provoke anyone." Tosh chided gently.

At that moment, Jack's past-self returned with a bag of coins, "This is going to be fun. Twenty-nine copper coins- knuts-" Jack snickered as his past self said this, "-to one silver sickle. And seventeen sickles to a galleon. Those are the gold ones. A galleon is about five pounds sterling." he sighed dramatically, "You know, pre-decimal currency wasn't as confusing as you might think, but I'm willing to bet that the wizards- or the Goblins- did this on purpose!"

Ianto laughed, and grabbed his arm, "Let's go, I want to get my wand!"

"I bet Jack does, too..." Owen sniped, earning a glare from Ianto and both versions of Captain Jack.

"Actually, I have to get to work, or Carol will think I've left the country again." Jack's past-self said quickly, "You kids take care, and send me an owl... or email. Whichever's easier. Let me know what's going on. Okay?"

With that he turned and headed back the way they had come. "You're taking this whole magic thing really well, aren't you?" Tosh asked Jack.

"Yeah." Jack said, staring after his past-self, "I don't think I was entirely stable, in the nineties, though."

x x x

"This is ridiculous." Owen whined, looking around the wand-shop, "Waving a bit of wood and saying magic words does _not_ make things happen."

"Actually..." Jack said calmly, "Saying the right words, at the right time, with the right intention, can cause truly great things to happen... even with the best of technological explanations behind it."

"Quite right too, young man." all five of them jumped at the newcomer, who had spoken. Turning to see an old man with shoulder-length white hair and wide pale eyes standing behind the shop counter, "Ah, you must be the young Master Jones. Such a shame it was when I heard your father wouldn't be patronising my shop. I remember your grandfather, though. Beech and unicorn tail hair, eight and a half inches. Excellent for charmswork."

Ianto frowned, "Eidetic memory?" he asked, curiously.

The shopkeeper smiled a bit too widely, "Yes, indeed." he admitted, "I am Mr Ollivander, and I remember every single wand I have ever sold." he announced, with distinct pride at this fact.

"That's quite impressive." Tosh observed.

"Why thank you, Miss." Ollivander said, nodding to you, "Am I to assume that the five of you are all here to purchase wands for your first year at Hogwarts, then?"

"That's right." Jack said with an authoritative nod.

"Excellent." Mr Ollivander said, pulling out a tape-measure, apparently from thin air, "So who would like to go first?" he asked, unrolling the tape-measure so that he now held it between two hands.

"I will." Jack offered, "I'm Jack Harkness."

"Harkness, indeed?" Ollivander asked, "That is an interesting name." he glanced at the group, seeming to consider them for a moment before asking, "And are you right-handed, or left?"

"Right-handed." Jack answered, and he raised an eyebrow in bemusement as the tape-measure floated in thin air and began to measure his right arm. "What's so interesting about my name, then? Heard it before, have you?"

"The surname, oh yes indeed." Ollivander said idly, as he began to pull long thin boxes down from stacks lining the walls, "Agatha Harkness was one of the greatest sorcerers of all time. It's rumoured she lives in America now, almost two hundred years old and still as powerful as when she was thirty."

Jack raised an eyebrow, glanced at Ianto and saw the bemusedly surprised look there. He then turned back to Ollivander and smiled, a sort of mysterious grin that refused to either confirm or deny any relation to the aforementioned witch. He noticed with unease that the tape-measure was now checking the distance between his right ear and shoulder.

"Very well, then, Mr Harkness." Ollivander said, opening one of the boxes, "Let's try this, ash and unicorn tail hair, ten inches, quite strong. Good for enchantments." Jack warily took the wand in his hand, wondering what was supposed to happen. "Give a wave, there's a good lad."

Jack waved the wand, as Gwen muttered, "This is too bizarre..." but nothing happened.

"No." Ollivander said, shaking his head and pulling out another wand, "Hmm... try this one. Oak and dragon heartstring, eleven inches, rigid and unyielding. Fantastic wand for Defence Against the Dark Arts." he muttered, and Jack took this one. It felt warm to the touch, and when he waved it a flash of bright golden light shone from the tip of the wand, shimmering and lighting the entire shop, "Oh, on your second try, too. Very good, Mr Harkness."

Owen looked fit to burst with laughter, "So... many... jokes..." he mumbled, before receiving a sharp smack to the back of the head from Ianto.

Ollivander quickly took the wand back from Jack, replaced it in the box and started wrapping it, "That's seven galleons twelve sickles." he said, setting it aside and turning to face the others, "Who's next, then?"

"Wait, you just decide which one fits us and charge us whatever? We don't get to pick for ourselves?" Owen demanded, purposefully sobering up from his near-hysterics at the double-entendres.

"Oh, but the wand chooses the wizard, my good man." Ollivander said brightly, "If you picked out the cheapest wand here, well the odds are strongly against it being right for you, personally, Mr...?"

"Owen Harper."

"I could offer you that wand, if you'd like, see how it works?" Ollivander suggested.

"Yes, let's try that." Owen said, eyes narrowed.

Ollivander bent down and produced a wand from behind the counter, "Here we are, then. Pine and unicorn tail hair, seven and a half inches, brittle but smooth. Very good at charms. Four galleons." Owen took the wand and tried to wave it, but nothing happened. He scowled and tried again. "Oh dear, now you see?" Ollivander asked.

Owen glared, and swatted at the measuring tape that was trying to determine the distance between his nostrils.

"Why don't you try this one instead?" the wandmaker suggested, "Elm and dragon heartstring, eight inches, fairly pliable. Very good for jinxes." Owen tried it, and nothing happened. Ollivander pulled out a couple more boxes and offered the wands within to him, one at a time, diligently making the effort to describe each one.

It took almost a dozen tries for Owen to hit on one that worked, sending flashing red and blue sparks like fireworks flying around the room. His eyes lit up with awe at what he'd done, "Wow..." he muttered.

"Ah, there we go." Ollivander said, positively gleeful at finding the right wand for Owen, "Cherrywood and dragon heartstring, nine inches, a bit whippy. Perfect wand for duelling. And you'll be pleased to know it's only five galleons and sixteen sickles."

Tosh smiled, slightly bemused, "That's like saying in Muggle money that it's twenty-nine ninety-nine." Owen snorted, and watched with disappointment as the wand was taken away from him to be wrapped.

Ollivander smiled at her, "Quite observant of you, Miss...?"

"Toshiko Sato. My friends call my Tosh."

"Would you like to go next, my dear?" Ollivander asked her. She nodded and stepped forward, eyes trying to follow the tape-measure as it checked her arm first... then proceeded to measure across her shoulders. After a moment, he offered her a box, "Alright, then. Let's try this one shall we?"

Tosh took the wand, examining it carefully, as Ollivander explained, "Ebony and unicorn tail hair, eight and a quarter inches, firm and whippy. Very good for transfiguration." She tried to wave it but almost before she had finished the gesture he had snatched it away, "No, try this. Holly and unicorn tail hair, seven and a half inches, swishy. Excellent wand for charms."

This one didn't work, and he tried a few more, all with unicorn tail hair. Tosh seemed to pick up on this after her fifth try, "You think unicorn hair is right for me?" she asked.

"Quite certain of it, my dear." Ollivander answered, and Tosh frowned at this as he offered her, "Mahogany and unicorn tail hair, eight inches, solid and dependable. Excellent for Arithmancy."

Tosh blinked at this, "Arithmancy?" she asked, curiously.

"Oh yes, wonderful subject. Practical application of mathematical formulae and algorithms to magical theory and enchantments." Ollivander said, before prompting, "Go on then, give it a wave."

Tosh waved the wand, and a small flock of brilliant-blue birds fluttered from the tip and circled the room, before disappearing in a puff of smoke. "Very good, my dear." Ollivander cheered, clapping, "That will be seven galleons and two sickles." Tosh nodded in acceptance of this, as he wrapped her wand up for her.

Gwen stepped up to the counter next, smiling nervously at the wandmaker, "I'm Gwen Cooper. I'm right-handed." she offered. The tape-measure immediately checked her arm... and then went on to her waist-measurement, which made Owen snort with laughter.

"Ah, yes, let me see." and Ollivander was off again.

Gwen took fifteen tries to find her wand. When she did so, she managed to conjure bright red flames from the tip when she waved it, and promptly jumped, startled and staring with wide eyes, before grinning with pride at the fact that she had done that. She considered herself lucky that she hadn't dropped it and set fire to something.

"Birch and phoenix feather, eight and a half inches, quite springy." Ollivander identified, taking the wand and beginning to wrap it, "A powerful wand, especially for shielding and healing spells. Seven galleons and ten sickles."

Gwen stepped back, but Owen just had to ask, "Phoenix? You mean like mythical birds that go up in flames then rise from the ashes?"

"Yes, indeed, Mr Harper." Ollivander said brightly, "I find that the tail-feathers from a mature male phoenix make the most powerful wands. A dragon's heartstring lends more focus to its spells, and unicorn tail hair applies a greater element of finesse."

"But I mean... shouldn't Jack get a phoenix wand?" Owen persisted, before being glared down by Jack himself.

"Ah, but the wand chooses the wizard, Mr Harper." Ollivander chided, "Now, I believe it is Mr Jones' turn." he said brightly, dismissing Owen's odd remarks on phoenixes.

When the tape-measure flew out to Ianto's right arm, he quickly said, "Oh, no. Left-handed."

"Oh! Yes, of course." Ollivander muttered, and the tape-measure quickly switched, on its own, to his left arm.

Then the distance across his forehead, which did cause him to pull an irritated face, "Is this really necessary?" he asked, indicating the tape-measure.

"I'm just waiting for it to try someone's inside-leg measurements." Owen muttered, snickering.

"It does help me to identify wands that will be more likely to choose the individual in question, yes." Ollivander said blithely, ignoring Owen's remark, "Let me see." he eyed Ianto carefully for a moment, allowing the tape-measure to check his neck, shoulders and the height of his ears, before finally turning back to the shelves and pulling out a box, with the air of one about to make a point, "Ash and phoenix feather, nine and a quarter inches, flexible and strong. Very good for transfiguration."

Ianto took the wand, and waved it. A flash of blue-white light shimmered and shot across the room in a near-blinding beam, with an eerie electric noise that made Jack flinch, "Shit, Ianto!" he yelled in shock.

Ianto stared at his wand, "That was... unexpected..." he muttered darkly.

"What's wrong?" Gwen asked, stunned.

Both Jack and Ianto were staring at the wall where the beam had hit, leaving no damage whatsoever. Ollivander watched both of them intently, with his wide and pale eyes, "I wouldn't worry too much about subconscious illusions, if I were you, boys. Though, I must say that noise was quite startling, indeed." he chuckled, "Six galleons and eight sickles for that one."

"Which comes to a total of... thirty-four galleons and fourteen sickles." Tosh put in brightly, without any visible hesitation for calculation.

"Arithmancy truly is your calling in our world, Miss Sato." Ollivander said amicably, as Gwen sorted out the correct coins.

It took all three of them to drag the stunned Jack and Ianto out of the shop, with all their newly purchased wands, and once they were a few feet down the street and seemingly alone, Gwen demanded, "What was that?"

"Daleks..." Jack said flatly, as Ianto nodded.

Tosh frowned, "He said it was a subconscious illusion." she pointed out, "Just something in the back of your mind that must have conjured that image."

"This whole magic thing is getting confusing." Jack said, shaking his head and trying not to think about the illusion of a Dalek energy beam that Ianto had conjured, "We need to learn more about what we're getting into. Ianto, can you navigate this place? We need a bookshop."

x x x


	3. Learning To Think Diagonally

x x x

**Chapter 3: Learning To Think Diagonally**

x x x

In the window of the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts, there was a cage. In this cage were what looked like books... very violent books, somehow alive and attacking each other. Above the cage was a sign, identifying its occupants as '_The Monster Book of Monsters_', seven sickles each.

"Fascinating." Tosh murmured, watching the books with interest, "I wonder how they made these."

"Who says they were made?" Jack asked, "Maybe someone _bred_ them."

"I hope not..." Ianto muttered under his breath, before quickly leading the way into the shop itself.

From the outside it had looked like a pokey little place, but within there were vast shelves of books running in several directions. "Are all magical buildings like this?" Gwen asked, staring around.

"What, dimensionally transcendental?" Jack asked, receiving a blank stare from Gwen for that, "Bigger on the inside?" he reiterated. She nodded slowly, "I'd not be surprised." he answered with a shrug.

"Hogwarts?" a short and harried looking man asked briskly, coming out from behind a row of shelves, "Got your booklists?"

Tosh pulled out her booklist, "We'll need five of everything on there." she said efficiently, "And we'd like to browse, as well."

"Ah, yes. Of course." the man said distractedly, taking the list from Tosh and reading over it. He seemed immensely relieved when he had read it over twice more, and beamed at them, "I'll just get these together for you, and you can look around while I'm doing that."

He toddled off to get their school books, and the team looked at each other.

"History." Ianto said quickly, effectively calling dibs.

"Technology and innovations." Tosh volunteered.

"Culture." Gwen offered.

"Medicine." Owen asked hopefully.

"Politics." Jack said with a sharp nod, before grinning brightly, "What are we waiting for, then?"

They all split up, heading to different sections of the shop, browsing the shelves for books they thought were relevant. When they met up half an hour later, at the main desk, Jack was holding three thick books to his chest. He saw that Tosh was only just able to peer over the top of her stack of six. Ianto had also found three books, Owen only one, and Gwen had two.

He glanced to Owen first, and the team doctor answered, "'_A Complete Compendium Of Magical Medicine_'." he said, holding up the thick book.

Jack looked to Gwen, "'_A Wizard's Guide to Muggles_'... and '_A Muggle's Guide to Wizards_'." she admitted sheepishly, "I figured knowing how they saw the rest of the world would be telling." Jack nodded to her, and turned to Tosh.

Tosh awkwardly shifted her stack of books so she could speak over it, "'_A Historical Guide To Magical Inventions_'... '_Modern Convenience In Enchantment_'... '_Charmed Objects And Their Uses_'... '_Cursed Objects And How To Recognise Them_'... '_Why Your Muggle Gadgets Don't Work In Magical Places_'... and '_Numerology and Gramatica: An Introduction to Arithmancy_', but that one's just for me, really."

Ianto grinned, "'_The Rise And Fall Of The Dark Arts_'... '_Great Witches And Wizards Of History_'... and '_Hogwarts: A History_'."

Jack nodded efficiently, "And I've got... '_Magical Law And Law Enforcement_'... '_The Politics Of Wizarding Blood_'... and '_Everything You Never Wanted To Know About The Ministry Of Magic_'."

"And with our school books as well..." Tosh muttered, "This is going to be a lot to get through."

"I say we keep to our specialist subjects." Ianto suggested, "When we're not studying for classes, we'll read through these."

"And all help Tosh when we run out of books of our own." Owen added in a cheerfully snarky tone. Tosh blushed slightly at this suggestion, and hid her face behind her books.

The five of them all made their way over to the counter, where the man who had fetched their schoolbooks stared incredulously at them, now. Their schoolbooks were waiting for them, in five neat stacks.

Jack glanced at the titles, having not bothered to read the list himself, yet.

'_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_'... '_A History of Magic_'... '_Magical Theory_'... '_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_'... '_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_'... '_Magical Drafts and Potions_'... '_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_'... and '_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_'.

Jack pointed to '_A History of Magic_', in Ianto's stack of books, "How did you miss this one?"

"It was on our list." Ianto said bluntly, eyes slightly widened in a 'well duh' look, as if that should have been obvious.

"Will- will you be purchasing all of these books together?" the assistant asked, looking quite stunned that a bunch of eleven-and-twelve-year-olds would want to buy so many books on top of their required reading.

"Yes, thanks." Gwen said in her brightest friendly-voice.

The man quickly tapped his wand to each book in turn, giving a dark glance at Jack after seeing his selection of reading material, before announcing, "That will be a total of fifteen galleons, twelve sickles and three knuts."

Gwen handed over the money, and the man thanked her with a smile.

"For a moment I thought you were pulling my leg with these." he offered almost defensively, "See a bunch of kids come in, I didn't reckon you'd really want to spend that much time reading."

"We're very fond of books." Ianto said brightly. Tosh wrinkled her nose slightly, but didn't argue. They all knew that while she did enjoy reading, she preferred her valuable information to be on a computer screen rather than paper.

The man shot another dark look at Jack, before offering, "These books are quite heavy. I could cast a feather-weight charm on them for you, for an extra two sickles."

Gwen smiled sweetly, and handed over the two silver coins, "Thank you. We appreciate it."

"A pleasure to help out such good customers, my dear." the man answered, before casting his spells and putting the books into store-labelled bags for each of them.

As soon as they were out of the shop, however, "Why'd he look at you like you were a Weevil, Jack?" Owen asked.

"Are we talking about the way sane people look at Weevils, or the way _you_ look at Weevils?" Ianto sniped, grinning as they walked towards the clothing store to try to get their uniforms.

"You know what I mean, you saw it too, tea-boy." Owen grumbled, "Seriously, why'd he do that?"

"Maybe one of my books offended him?" Jack suggested, looking in his bag. He pulled out '_The Politics Of Wizarding Blood_', and flicked idly through it, his face darkening as he read, "Why do I get the feeling it's this one?" he muttered darkly, before putting the book away and pretending that there was nothing worth talking about here.

x x x

They spent the next hour or so collecting the rest of their school supplies, including a visit to the pet store where Ianto bought what he described as a 'small and inconspicuous' barn owl, now named Aderyn, that they planned to share. Gwen had given Ianto an odd look for that name, and he had shrugged and admitted that he wasn't feeling especially imaginative today.

Now, however, they were walking back to the Leaky Cauldron to return to the real world, when they passed a shop that caused Owen to gawp in disbelief. "Flying on broomsticks? You've gotta be kidding me." he declared, staring into the window. The shop was called Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"What's wrong with broomsticks?" Ianto asked, almost indignantly. He might never had seen a Quidditch game, but he remembered hearing fantastic stories about it.

"Well they are a bit cliche." Gwen observed.

"All the way up in the air with only your own grip and some enchanted bit of wood to keep you from a painful encounter with the ground?" Owen asked sceptically, "No thanks."

"And I suppose a jet engine is less likely to explode?" Jack asked, grinning, "I think I like the idea of flying like this. I want one." he said, pointing at the best broomstick in the shop, "Ianto, what's the exchange rate?"

Ianto frowned, "There's no price tag on this one. But the second best, over there, is about three thousand pounds." he added, pointing to a wall display of a dozen different broomsticks.

Jack nodded, "I want one."

"Suicidal lunatic." Owen grumbled.

"You have that much money just sitting around to waste?" Gwen asked sceptically.

"Well... not on me." Jack muttered.

"It says first years aren't allowed to bring broomsticks to school." Tosh pointed out, and Jack deflated slightly.

"You only like the idea because it's so dangerous." Owen teased Jack.

"Actually, standard brooms are very safe." a voice said behind them. All five of them turned to look at the source of this voice. A tall young man with a Scottish accent, fair hair, handsome face and a cheeky smile, "They come with all the latest enchantments, so you can't fall off. Worst case, you slip and hang from the broom until it drifts to the ground." his grin brightened suddenly, "Now sports brooms are another matter entirely. Half the fun of watching a Quidditch match is when a player falls off their broom... but then a Quidditch pitch will always have a slowfall spell over the field."

"So now I know to be specific. I want a sports broom." Jack said brightly, stepping forward so that he was in front of his friends, effectively taking the lead.

"I will repeat. Suicidal maniac." Owen muttered.

"You said lunatic, before." Ianto put in, smirking.

"Details." Owen growled.

"It's always good to see Muggle-borns taking an interest in this fine magical sport." the young man said, holding his hand out to Jack, "Pleased to meet you, I'm Oliver Wood."

Jack grinned at him, "I'm Jack Harkness." he replied, ignoring the fact that he could literally hear his team rolling their eyes at him, as he shook Oliver's hand, "So how about sharing all the details of this beautifully violent thing called Quidditch with me?"

"Love to." Oliver answered brightly.

x x x

"I'll admit it was strange seeing a group of kids unsupervised, given the current situation." Oliver said, as the six of them sat at a table in Florean Fortuseau's ice cream shop. He had spent the last hour talking about Quidditch, and now the entire Torchwood team knew all there was to know about the rules of the game. Whether they would remember half of it or not was another matter. "Most parents won't let their children out of their sight, since Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban."

"Why, he a paedophile?" Owen asked, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs from Tosh.

Oliver choked on his ice-cream, and shook his head almost violently as he tried to breath again, "No! Not that I know of... but he is a dangerous psychopath who wouldn't stop at killing anyone who got in his way."

Gwen was giggling at Oliver's reaction, but Owen gave the older boy a falsely suspicious look and asked, "You're not a paedophile, are you? I mean, with being the leader of a sports' team in a boarding school, and buying random children ice-cream..." Oliver's stare turned from shocked to highly offended.

"Ignore him." Jack said idly, waving his hand dismissively, "He accused me of being a paedophile yesterday."

"I get the feeling he's going to turn it into a running joke." Ianto observed darkly, "I plan to learn a silencing spell as soon as I possibly can."

Oliver stared at them all, "Is he always this bad?"

"No, not really." Gwen said idly, "This is him on a nice day."

"Gee, thanks." Owen muttered.

"As if the five of us couldn't defend ourselves against one person?" Ianto asked, "Psychopath or not."

"Are you talking about Sirius Black, now?" Tosh asked, as if jokingly unsure that Owen might not fall in the category of psychopath given the right motivation. Ianto nodded, and she continued, "I saw him on the news, at Jack's place. They're saying he's armed and very dangerous. We, however, are not."

"He murdered a dozen people." Oliver explained, "With a single curse."

They all looked at each other, now, "Right, that's it." Owen announced, "We go anywhere, Jack goes first."

"Oh, thank you, Owen." Jack sniped.

Oliver stared at them in shock, "You need to take this seriously. Nobody's safe, anymore. No one knows what he'll do now he's free."

Owen opened his mouth, but Jack kicked him under the table, "Owen, I can't read your mind, but I can think a step ahead of you. Don't say it!" Owen- who had been about to say that if he was in Sirius Black's position, just out of jail, his first mission would be to find someone to shag- decided that Jack probably _had _ guessed correctly, and backed down.

Oliver shook his head, "I hope you're not in my house!" he said to Owen, laughing almost nervously.

"House?" Gwen asked, curious.

"Oh, you don't know." Oliver asked, surprised, "Well Hogwarts has four houses. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. When you get there you'll all be sorted into whichever one suits you best. The four houses compete for achievements, including an annual Quidditch Cup."

"I want in on that." Jack said quickly, grinning eagerly at Oliver.

"Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until you're second year." Oliver said in a weakly consolidating tone, "Unless you're as good as Harry Potter. And that's not likely to happen again this century."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he really wished he could voice the thought of, _What if I'm not from this century?_ "We should probably get going." Jack pointed out, "Gotta get back before we're missed."

Oliver nodded, and waved goodbye, "Hope to see some of you kids in Gryffindor!" he called after them, as the Torchwood team headed down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron once more.

x x x

Since going back to Cardiff for one night was inconvenient, and their only reasonable form of transport had buggered off back to Torchwood, they found a small hotel to stay in, near the train station. Apparently, this wasn't as unusual as anyone had expected, "Get a lot of school kids stayin' here, right before term starts. Never quite figured why." the man had told them.

The girls shared one room, while Owen muttered insults at Jack's sexuality- a very difficult thing to insult, but somehow he was succeeding- for being forced to share the other room with him and Ianto. Lucky for Owen, then, that Jack spent the rest of the evening out. He hadn't told them where he was going, or why.

Ianto was a bit disturbed by the fact that he saw Jack packing some strange things into his school trunk the next morning. What he saw of these things included an unidentified but suspicious-looking box of god knows what, retcon- how did he get his hands on that?- and duct-tape.

Once they were packed and ready to go, they all made their way to the train station.

"Platform nine and three-quarters?" Tosh asked, slightly sceptically, as they made their way along the walkway between platforms nine and ten.

"They've got to be shitting us." Owen grumbled.

Jack and Gwen were both looking around, while Ianto tried to remember what his grandfather had said about Hogwarts. Unfortunately, all he remembered of that were stories of interesting adventures in the school itself.

"Over here." Gwen said suddenly, trotting ahead of the rest of them with her trunk in tow. They followed, and she led them through the crowd to a pair of girls who didn't look much older than they did. One had a long-eared owl in a cage perched on top of the trolley she was pulling along the platform. "Excuse me." Gwen called out to the two girls.

"Yes?" one asked, looking at Gwen curiously. At closer range it became clear that the two quite cute mocha-skinned girls were twins. The one who had spoken glanced at the rest of them, now, too. "Oh, are you new to Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Yes, we are." Gwen said smiling warmly, "And I'm afraid we don't know how to get to the train."

"It's quite simple really." the other twin offered, pointing to a wall between the two platforms, "You just walk right through there. The wall isn't real, although the gate behind it's only open for the beginning and end of the school year."

Her twin grinned, "Last year, a couple of boys missed the train, because the gate closed." she said in a conspiratorial and gossipy way, "They got in so much trouble, too. Not for missing the train, mind you, but for how they tried to make up for it."

The other twin smiled, as if patiently indulging her sister, "Our platform is right between these two, inside the wall. I know it's difficult for some people to get, but spatial displacement spells are the best way of keeping Muggles from wondering what's in there."

"I think I understand." Jack said, smiling at the two girls, "Thanks for the help."

Both girls blushed slightly, "You're welcome." they chorused, before turning and heading through the wall themselves... giggling as they did so.

The team exchanged bemused looks, and Jack made a mockingly chivalrous bow and wave of his arm, "After you, ladies." he said to Tosh and Gwen.

Gwen took a deep breath, and stepped purposefully towards the wall... then disappeared right through it. Tosh laughed nervously, and went through the wall after her. Owen and Ianto looked at Jack, now.

"I said after the ladies, Owen." he said in a perfect deadpan, while grinning at the joke. Owen grumbled and went on through the wall. Jack went after him, and then Ianto glanced around one last time- perhaps his last look at the real world for the duration of the school year- before following the rest of the team.

x x x


	4. Dementors on a Train

x x x

**Chapter 4: Dementors on a Train**

x x x

The train was packed, but the five of them were lucky enough to find a private compartment near the back. As soon as they settled, books were brought out, and they began their research. Owen was reading the set school-book for Potions class. Gwen had '_A Wizard's Guide to Muggles_', and was clearly having trouble not laughing as she read it.

Ianto was reading '_Hogwarts: A History_', which he seemed quite thoroughly engrossed in. Tosh had decided to start with '_Why Your Muggle Gadgets Don't Work In Magical Places_'. Jack figured he might as well read the least pleasant book first, and so he started on '_The Politics Of Wizarding Blood_'.

Anyone looking in would probably be utterly shocked by how well-behaved a bunch of new first year students could be, sitting calmly and reading in silence... in spite of the sounds of excitable teenagers chattering about their holidays and plans for the school year, emanating from the other nearby compartments.

It was quite a pleasant journey, all things considered.

Until very suddenly, with a violent jolt, the train juddered to a halt and all the lights went out. "Hey, I'm reading here!" Owen protested indignantly.

"So was I, Owen." Tosh said in a much calmer tone.

Gwen stared unseeingly around, trying to make out her friends in the suddenly darkened compartment, "What's going on?" she asked, "Is this supposed to happen?"

"If the noise from the rest of the train is anything to go by... probably not." Jack answered her, standing up to check outside.

Then a terrible chill fell over the compartment, and they all shuddered. "I don't like this." Ianto said darkly, as he tried and failed to hide his fear.

"Join the club." Owen snarked, much more successful in pretending not to be as scared as he really felt.

Then the door to their compartment slid open slowly... ominously. By this stage their eyes had adjusted to the dim light enough that they were able to make out the shadowy hooded figure in the doorway. Tall and imposing, it looked more like a wraith than a living thing. They could all hear its heavy breathing in the otherwise deathly silence, every rasping breath making the room feel that much colder.

Ianto's eyes flickered, rolling back so that only the whites showed, as he seemed to instinctively back up against his chair. Tosh whimpered, pulling her knees up in front of her defensively, and hiding her face. Gwen stared at the creature, wide-eyed and terrified. Owen looked like he was going to vomit.

Jack, however, fell back, collapsing to the ground and clutching the sides of his head, as if in agony. The creature inhaled one last time, deeply... chilling them all to the bone. Then it simply swept away, gliding further down the train and leaving them alone.

The instant it was gone, the lights came back on and Gwen was at Jack's side, checking his pulse. It hadn't killed him, that was a good thing... but as she pried his hands away from his face she saw that he was crying. After a few seconds, he started mumbling words she couldn't make out- she wasn't even sure he was speaking English- shaking his head and trying to push her away.

"What was that thing?" Tosh asked quietly, sounding stunned and breathless. They barely registered the train beginning to move again, too distracted by this attack that seemed to have incapacitated their leader.

"I... don't know." Ianto admitted, moving to kneel next to Jack in such a shaken and disorganised way that it almost looked like he had just fallen out of his seat, "Is he-?"

"He's alive, but..." Gwen said weakly, holding Jack's hand now. It felt icy cold. "I've no idea what happened."

Tosh was leaning over Gwen's shoulder now, frowning in concern, while Owen checked Jack's for any injuries, "Come on, Jack, wake up." Owen tried to order, "Big sissy."

Jack groaned, as if either incredibly disoriented or in a great deal of pain, frowning deeply and shaking his head slightly. He still hadn't opening his eyes, but the incoherent mumbling ceased... like he was holding his breath, waiting for something.

"Jack?" Ianto asked hopefully, taking his other hand.

That seemed to do the trick, as he suddenly gripped both Gwen and Ianto's hands tightly- almost painfully even- and inhaled sharply, eyes snapping open and focusing on Ianto. His gaze darted from Ianto to Gwen, then to Tosh, and lastly Owen... and he finally seemed to relax, eyes closing as he let out a seemingly exhausted sigh.

"What the hell was that?" he asked weakly.

"We don't know, Jack." Gwen said gently, still holding his hand in spite of the fact it had hurt when he had gripped back. He pulled his hand away from hers, and sat up, leaning slightly on both Gwen and Ianto... still not letting go of Ianto's hand.

"It was horrible, though." Owen put in, "I mean I felt really miserable, like I'd never know any of life's pleasures again."

Jack sighed, resting his forehead on Ianto's shoulder, eyes closed as he listened to this. Tosh spoke up in her quietest mouse-y voice, "Felt trapped. So dark and cold."

Gwen nodded slowly, "Empty. Like I did that time when Bilis made us open the rift." They all knew to read into that the fact that she meant the part where Rhys died, but none of them were insensitive enough to point this out.

Ianto put an arm around Jack, holding him protectively, "Clearly some of us were hit worse than others." he said coldly. He, himself, had all-but relived both of the days Lisa died... but he would never tell them that. Instead he chose to comfort Jack. Clearly whatever demons that creature had drawn out of Jack's past, they were worse than a half-converted Cyber-ex-girlfriend.

It was to this scene that a rather bedraggled-looking man arrived at their compartment, "Ah." he said, frowning. All five of them looked up at him with varying degrees of suspicion and- in the case of the two boys on the floor- emotional pain. "Hello, I'm Professor Lupin. I'll be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. I'm sure we all wish that I didn't need to get such an early start."

Owen glowered, but Tosh smiled weakly at the Professor's half-joke. Jack and Ianto barely spared him a glance, after his explanation of his identity and presence here. Gwen was the one to speak, "What was that thing?"

"A Dementor." Lupin said bluntly, "I'm sure the entire school will be informed of the finer points, once we arrive at Hogwarts. In the meantime, I have persuaded the lovely Doris to offer each of you a free bar of chocolate from the snack-cart. Best cure for this sort of Dementor attack. I'd advise you all to take her up on what I hope will be a one-time-only deal."

As he spoke, Lupin had moved to hunker down next to Gwen, in order to get a better look at Jack and Ianto. After a brief glance seemed to reassure him that Ianto wasn't the worst-off of the group, he placed a hand on Jack's forehead for a second, and immediately suggested, "Better make it two bars of chocolate for you."

A rattling sound came from the hallway, and Tosh stood up and graciously accepted their chocolate from the trolley-lady- Doris, apparently- quickly passing it out to the rest of the team. She handed Jack two bars, and one each to Gwen and Ianto. She snapped the last in half and split it with Owen, giving him a pointed look when he appeared likely to complain.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Why is that thing allowed anywhere near children? Or was this some kind of freak accident?" he asked, his righteous anger greatly subdued by exhaustion. Ianto busily unwrapped a chocolate bar and offered it to Jack, who gave him an indignant look, "I'm not an invalid, Ianto." he complained, but accepted the help regardless, eating the entire chocolate bar in one go.

Owen clearly had trouble resisting the urge to make a rude remark about this.

"I regret to admit that it was no accident." Lupin said sadly, sitting back onto one of the seats, as the snack-trolley rattled on, "The Dementors are guardians of Azkaban prison, and they came here to ensure that Sirius Black did not attempt to sneak into Hogwarts amongst the students." he looked around in a conspiratorial way, "If you ask me, a group of Aurors would be far more efficient... although they also might find more than they bargained for in certain students' luggage." he smiled and added, "I hear some of the Weasley family are worth watching out for."

"Aurors?" Tosh asked curiously, before nibbling on her chocolate.

Lupin smiled, "Yes. Magical law enforcement." he explained, "Human, for the most part. Far more civilised than Dementors, but apparently less cost-effective." Jack stared coldly at Lupin, who held his hands up defensively, "I don't make the rules, I'm afraid. I can, however, try to minimise the damage. How are you feeling now?" he asked, most directly to Jack.

Jack frowned, bowing his head slightly, "Like I've just been to hell and back." he muttered.

"But you're back now." Ianto pointed out, nudging Jack and forcing a smile. Jack returned it with a great deal of effort.

Lupin sighed, "I should report this to the school nurse, when we get to Hogwarts. You're not the only student to be so badly affected by the Dementors... but as you're a first year, I think it would be incredibly unfair to make you miss your Sorting. So long as you're feeling better now..." he leaned forward to pat Jack lightly on the shoulder- an almost paternal gesture that seemed to come quite naturally to him- as he stood up to leave.

"Sir?" Tosh asked hopefully, "We've heard about this Sorting, but we don't know quite how it works." she pointed out, "It's not anything too... intense, is it?"

Jack gave her a dark look for insinuating that he should sit out on the sidelines just because of some bad memories. He bit a piece off his second chocolate bar as he glared, somehow managing to express his anger simply by that one action.

"Oh, nothing strenuous." Lupin dismissed idly, pausing in the doorway, "Very revealing, possibly embarrassing, and I'd even go so far as to say a public spectacle... but it doesn't take as much effort as some of the rumours I've heard about it."

Owen spluttered at the possible double-entendres, and Jack tried to aim a kick at Owen for it... but Owen was too fast for him.

After Lupin left, closing the door behind him, Ianto sighed, sitting back against the seats, still on the floor next to Jack. "Owen, why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Owen asked, confused.

"Making- or at least pointing out- the obscene jokes." Ianto insisted, turning to glower at him.

Owen shrugged, "Well Jack's too decent to do it now he looks like he's twelve. I, however, feel that someone ought to. It's my amoral duty."

At that moment, an announcement came over some sort of internal system, on the train, informing them that they would be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes, and all students were to be dressed in their school robes and leave their luggage on the train.

After a brief staring match between Jack and Owen it seemed to be silently decided that they would just all get changed, together, and no one would comment on it.

x x x

They disembarked from the train together, Jack idly fidgeted with his school robes, grumbling about them not hanging right and how he preferred his coat. Clearly he had gotten over the Dementor attack quite effectively. Just as they were looking around, trying to figure out which direction to go next, a loud voice bellowed from one end of the platform.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way, now!" they turned to see the man who was shouting for them, and all froze in shock. He was unnaturally tall, and wider than normal proportions should account for, with a huge bushy beard and hair that said quite clearly that he'd never heard of a comb or a hairbrush in his life. The coat he wore looked like it was made of animal skins, and he was waving far too enthusiastically over the top of the milling crowd of students. "Firs' years over 'ere, please!"

Gwen was only distracted from her wide-eyed stare when Jack muttered, "He's huge..." and earned a vicious glare from Owen for getting away with saying this and not being called on it being a blatant double-entendre.

"I'll say..." Tosh added, awed.

"Over ten feet tall." Ianto muttered, "Can't be all human."

"What do you mean?" Tosh asked.

"There are some non-human beings protected by the magical community from the rest of the world." Ianto explained, pushing Jack ahead of him and beginning to walk in the direction of the large man. The others followed as he continued, "It's entirely possible to cross-breed."

"Yeah, I know that." Jack muttered, earning a light smack on the arm from Ianto before being released and expected to walk on his own. Which he reluctantly did.

"Can't think with what- off the top of my head- to make him, though." Ianto added bluntly. But that debate was cut short as they got close enough that they figured the man could probably hear them.

"This all of yeh?" the large man asked, scanning the group of children that had gathered around him, "Alrigh' then." he nodded, "Follow me, this way." and he turned to lead the way down a path adding over his shoulder, "Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

"We're just trusting this guy?" Owen grumbled.

"Is there anyone you actually _do_ trust, Owen?" Tosh asked.

"You three." he shot a scowl at Ianto, "Was four before you shot me, tea-boy."

"You know you love me really, Owen." Ianto sniped right back, grinning at the disgusted face Owen pulled at that, and the girls' giggling for it.

"'ere we are, then. Jus' round this 'ere corner, ye'll get yer first look at Hogwarts." the large man said brightly.

And as they turned the corner, they saw a vast shimmering lake before them. Beyond that was a cliff rising up, upon which stood a great castle, lit up by hundred of tiny pinpricks of light coming from the window. By the light of the gibbous moon, reflected up from the lake, it was absolutely breathtaking.

Oooohs and ahhhhs could be heard murmured by the other new students. Gwen gasped in shock as she saw it. Jack straightened up slightly, eyes lighting up with a sense of anticipation as he looked up at it. Tosh's jaw dropped in silent awe. Ianto grinned brightly, and whispered, "It's beautiful." Jack nodded slowly in agreement. Even Owen was suitably dumbstruck by the castle's magnificence.

"Now!" the large man announced, tearing their attention away from the sight of the castle, "No more'n four to a boat!"

They looked to the lake to see a boat magically rising out of the lake. The man stepped into the boat, causing it to float low in the water, to the point were the slightest bit more weight would make it sink. It drifted on, and a second boat rose up behind it. Four students quickly scrambled into this boat, while the Torchwood team glanced at each other... a silent but somehow effective debate on who should split away from their group.

Jack was the one to step back from the other four, shrugging slightly, and smiling. Ianto frowned, but Jack shook his head telling him to stay with the others.

He scanned the group of other students and quickly found a small clique of three girls whispering nervously to each other. As another boat rose out of the water, he approached them, "Mind if I join you, girls?" he asked hopefully.

They stared at him, but then the slightly taller girl smiled, "Not at all." and her friends didn't take their eyes off him as they hopped into the boat first, "I'm Romilda Vane."

"Jack Harkness." he answered, taking her hand as she stepped into the boat.

The other two girls giggled, "Oooh, he's a proper gentleman." the blonde cheered.

Jack smiled at her as she settled in the boat, "And you are...?"

She giggled, blushing slightly, "Vicky Frobisher." she answered.

Jack leaned back casually on the back of the boat, noticing as the rest of the team got into the very next boat. It was a clear night, but very cold. It might have been beautiful if the darker thoughts that had been brought back to the front of his mind on the train wouldn't linger so.

"Everyone in?" the large man called out, and didn't wait for an answer before checking for himself and announcing, "Right then... _FORWARD!_" In perfect formation, the boats all began to drift smoothly across the still lake, with no visible means of propulsion, leaving minimal ripples in their wake.

"I'm Demelza Robins." the other girl offered, while Jack distractedly watched Tosh leaning on the edge of the boat behind them, trying to figure out how it worked. Jack looked back at Demelza and smiled at her too, "Are you related to... Agatha Harkness?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, "Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked, grinning.

"Doesn't really matter either way, does it?" Romilda asked edgily, "Not like any of us are _Purebloods_." she sneered at the word.

"You assume I'm not?" Jack asked innocently. By the Time Agency's definition- and they literally used that word- he was... but that just meant that he was completely human. They all looked at him slightly startled, but he shook his head and laughed, suddenly grateful for choosing to read that book first, "I'm not one of those people who thinks it matters, though. Don't worry."

Vicky seemed to relax more noticeably than the others, "Well that's good." she said, relieved, "Both my parents were Muggles. I only know about that strange prejudice because Rommy told me."

Jack looked at Romilda curiously, and she elaborated, "My mother works at the Ministry. I've heard some stories about the war."

"War?" Jack asked, frowning. This was new to him.

"You know..." Romilda said, surprised that he might not, "Twelve years ago. With-" her voice lowered to a hushed whispered, "-with You-Know-Who."

"I _don't_ know who." Jack said, smiling in bemusement.

Romilda looked utterly shocked, but it was Demelza who put her right, "Rommy, he sounds American. You-Know-Who never got further than Europe." then she added, "You know, I think he _is _ related to Agatha... I mean she's rumoured to live in America now, but she went to Hogwarts. Why else would an American come over here, when L.A. and Salem have schools that're almost as good?"

Jack blinked at this news, but frowned and allowed them to believe this theory. It would be an easy way to explain his accent- which technically wasn't American, but Andromedan... even if they did sound kinda similar.

Romilda- or Rommy as she seemed to like being called- scowled, and began to continue what she'd been saying before, "You-Know-Who-"

"But I don't." Jack insisted, smiling slightly at her obvious discomfort at this fact.

"He- it's a terribly bad omen to even say his name." Demelza explained, "He used to be known as 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"But you said that war was twelve years ago?" Jack asked, receiving nods from both of the girls who had been raised as witches. "Then I'm assuming he's dead...?" More nervous nods. "So you're afraid of a dead man's name?"

They stared at him, then looked at each other, and Rommy was the one to speak, "They called him-" and she leaned forward conspiratorially. Vicky leaned in to hear it as well as Jack, "V-Voldemort." Rommy whispered, before quickly leaned back again, covering her mouth in shock and fear. She looked both gleeful at the taboo of saying what was obviously a very bad word, and terrified that it might have repercussions.

"So this guy started a war, because he was prejudiced against anyone who couldn't do magic?" Jack asked, just to get the facts straight. Rommy and Demelza both nodded. "Sounds absolutely delightful." he said sarcastically, before adding most sincerely, "Glad he's dead."

"You're not the only one." Rommy said, grinning sheepishly.

By this point, they had reached the far side of the lake, and the bellowing voice of the oversized man called out from ahead of them, "Heads down!" as they approached a veil of ivy that hung over the entrance to a cave. Everyone complied, although as they passed under the veil Jack did look up and saw that the mouth of the cave was a good six feet above the surface of the water.

The boats came to rest in an underground harbour, and a few seconds after each boat was emptied of passengers it sank into the depths and out of sight. "Fascinating form of transport." Tosh said, as the rest of his team joined him again.

"You quite done chatting up these poor innocent girls, Jack?" Owen asked, grinning.

Jack glared at him, "Want me to push you into the lake?" he asked sharply. The girls giggled behind him, but looked nervous all the same.

The giant of a man chose this moment to announce, "Righ', ev'ryone up this way, 'ere." and he led them up steep stone steps, out of the cave. Ianto took the time, halfway up the steps, to reach an arm out over the edge and discover that there was some sort of force-field preventing them from trying to fall off. Just like the invisible lift back at the Torchwood Hub.

They finally came to a large door at the top of these steps, upon which the giant of a man knocked loudly four times.

In direct contrast to this man who had led them up here, the man who answered the door was of dwarfish proportions. How he managed to even open the door was beyond reason or logic, and therefore they assumed it must be magic. He looked up as the giant informed him, "The firs' years, Professor Flitwick."

"Yes, yes. Thank you Hagrid. Do come on in then, all of you." Professor Flitwick answered, and the door opened further all by itself, "This way, children." he added as Hagrid strode off in a different direction.

Flitwick led them across a vast stone hall, complete with a grand sweeping marble staircase leading upwards opposite the main doors, and another pair of huge double-doors- through which Hagrid disappeared- to the other side. But they barely had time to appreciate the sheer size and grandeur of the hall, before they were let into a smaller room.

Flitwick climbed up onto a chair, to address the group of new students, who had the good grace to quiet down when he looked ready to speak, "Welcome to Hogwarts." he announced, "The start-of-term feast will be starting shortly, but first you will have to Sorted into your houses. The Sorting ceremony is of great importance, as it will determine where you spend most of your free time here. While at Hogwarts, your house will be as an extended family."

"In some cases literally." a dark-haired boy muttered to one of his friends.

"You will attend classes with your housemates, sleep in your house dormitory, and eat meals at your house table." Flitwick continued, either not hearing, or ignoring, the interruption, "The four houses- in alphabetical order- are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own merits and history, and each house has produced outstanding witches and wizards."

"Some more than others." that same boy muttered. Flitwick gave the boy a sharp look, but continued regardless.

"While you attend Hogwarts, your achievements will earn points for your house, but likewise any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup. I expect you all to do credit to the houses of which you become a part." the diminutive teacher glanced at his watch, then continued, "Now, I believe the Sorting will begin shortly, so if you wouldn't mind waiting here for one moment." he hopped down from the chair and left the room quickly.

As soon as he had gone, a babble of chatter rose from the rest of the children. Jack shrugged, and glanced at the three girls he'd met on the boat. They were watching him curiously, and he beckoned them over. "Always good to make new friends, whatever you may say about it, Owen." Jack said bluntly.

Owen scowled, and muttered, "I hate kids."

"You _are_ a kid, right now." Ianto observed, causing him to sulk.

"So guys, this is Demelza Robins, Vicky Frobisher, and Romilda Vane." Jack introduced, "Girls, this is Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, Owen Harper- he's really not that bad when you get to know him-" Owen pulled an insulted and disgusted face at this statement, "-and Ianto Jones."

"Nice to meet you." Rommy said brightly.

Gwen smiled at the other girls, then glanced at Jack as if wondering what he was up to... but Ianto spoke now, "And you." he said politely, "I hope we can still be friends, even if we don't get Sorted together."

The girls giggled, "My mom was Gryffindor." Rommy said, "And with manners like his, Jack's bound to be there too."

Ianto raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't answer. It was Tosh who spoke up next, "How does that suggest what house he might be in?" she asked.

Demelza grinned, and opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment Professor Flitwick returned. "The Sorting ceremony is about to begin!" he called out, "So I'd like to ask you all to form two orderly lines."

Everyone started moving, jostling to stand next to friends or be near the back of the line so as not to be Sorted first. Jack stayed close to the rest of his team, after wishing a hurried, "Good luck." to the girls.

And then they were led out across the entrance hall, through those large double-doors and into an even larger room, which must be the grand dining hall. It had four long tables, running the length of it, with students seated along each table. At the head of the hall was a fifth table- apparently for the teachers, as Jack recognised Professor Lupin up there.

The hall was lit from overhead by thousands of candles with no means of support, just floating in the air above the tables. "Oh my god!" Gwen whispered, awed, "It looks like there's no ceiling."

"Not quite, you can see the outline of the buttresses." Tosh whispered back, just as awed.

"It's enchanted to look like the sky outside." Ianto informed them.

"Do you really know everything?" Owen hissed.

"Yes." Ianto answered, smirking faintly, "I really am omniscient and couldn't possibly have read that somewhere."

Jack laughed, and put an arm around Ianto's shoulder, leaning over to whisper, "Don't provoke him, he's grouchy enough as it is."

Ianto pouted, "But it's fun!" he complained.

They were instructed to line up at the front of the hall, facing the teachers' table, and Professor Flitwick scurried up to set a small stool in plain view in front of them, a perfect place for the centre of attention. Then he set an old and patchy, but classic and clich -looking- witch's hat upon this stool.

Silence fell, and everyone seemed to hold their breath... then a rip just above the brim of the hat opened, and it... began to sing.

"_Over one thousand years ago,  
><em> _In ages long gone by,  
><em> _There lived four mages of great skill,  
><em> _The greatest of their time._

_Brought together here, you see,  
><em> _They sought to better learn,  
><em> _And teach young witches and wizards,  
><em> _These magics in their turn._

_Each Founder had a different taste,  
><em> _Of ways in which to teach,  
><em> _And so the houses formed within,  
><em> _Now named so, one for each._

_Will you then go to Gryffindor?  
><em> _The house of bravery,  
><em> _Where value's placed in honour,  
><em> _Daring, nerve and chivalry._

_Or perhaps instead to Hufflepuff?  
><em> _The home of loyalty,  
><em> _If you always do the best you can,  
><em> _It's there you just may be._

_Or might you go to Ravenclaw?  
><em> _The house for an eager mind,  
><em> _If you love learning and knowledge,  
><em> _Then here, these things you'll find._

_Or will you become Slytherin?  
><em> _The house of cunning and wit,  
><em> _Where those of drive and ambition,  
><em> _Are best known to sit._

_I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,  
><em> _And I'm now on the case,  
><em> _For I can read your true calling,  
><em> _And I'll find your right place._

_So step right up, don't hesitate,  
><em> _Try me on, I will not bite,  
><em> _Just ask me now, and I'll tell you,  
><em> _Which house suits you just right._"

A loud cheer erupted from the rest of the school. "That's it?" Owen muttered, clearly having expected something else entirely, "We just put on the ratty old hat?"

"The ratty old hat that can read your mind and bare your soul... yeah." Ianto answered, far too cheerfully.

x x x


	5. Getting Sorted

x x x

**Chapter 5: Getting Sorted**

x x x

The first of the Torchwood team to be called out was, "Cooper, Gwen."

Gwen glanced at the rest of her team with uncertainty, receiving a childish grin and a thumbs up from Owen, and encouraging smiles from the other three. She smiled nervously at them, and hesitantly stepped up to the Sorting Hat.

She was startled to hear a voice in her head, the moment the Hat fell over her eyes.

'_Ah, what's this?_' it asked, '_You are not so young as you appear... but a Sorting is still a Sorting, let me see, then. You are a very loyal, intelligent and inquisitive girl, aren't you? But it's quite easy to see where you belong, with a heart of gold and nerves of steel..._'

"**_GRYFFINDOR!_**"

It had the same voice aloud as in her head, and she jumped when she heard it shout. She took the Hat off and set it down on the stool, glanced around to see one table cheering loudly for her. She quickly trotting over to that table, as magic made her robes grow red and gold trim all on their own.

x x x

"Harkness, Jack."

Awed whispers erupted around the hall, "Is he related to-?" "Can't be." "Not exactly a common name." "Must be some connection." "I heard she's still-" "I hope he's in our house."

Jack gave Ianto a Look. It deserved the capital letter... it was significant. Wide-eyed but unafraid, determined even. He knew why they were whispering, and he'd seen this coming a mile away. Ianto nodded, acknowledging this in his usual efficient and calm way, and Jack smiled at the reassurance of that slight gesture.

He stepped up to the Sorting Hat, glancing at the sources of the excited whispering with mild bemusement. He knew why his name had caused a stir, and found it quite amusing that this wasn't even his real name, so it was all for nothing in reality. Still, he was more than happy to play up to it, for his own benefit.

And as he was thinking this, the Hat was lowered over his head. A thought, not his own, echoed in his mind, '_Oh, you're easy..._' and then that same voice shouted out aloud.

"_**SLYTHERIN!**_"

Jack idly thought, before removing the Hat, that he'd prefer it call out his own name, if there's a next time. He could literally feel the sense of amusement from the Hat, at this joke... and was quite surprised that an enchanted bit of cloth had understood it.

But then wild cheers erupted from the table that he assumed was Slytherin house... while the rest of the hall fell into almost horrified silence. Jack set the Hat back on its stool, and glanced at Ianto, who smirked faintly, completely unsurprised. Then he made his way over to the gleefully celebrating Slytherin table, idly running his fingers over the newly turned green and silver trim on his robes.

"Are you related to Agatha Harkness?" the student he sat next to asked, immediately. He wore a prefect badge, and had a face that made Jack idly wonder if this boy's mother was a Weevil.

Jack just grinned at that student, and the older-looking boy seemed to take it as a positive answer. Jack found himself thoroughly enjoying the warm welcome he received. Everyone within earshot was clamouring to shake his hand, ask after his family, tell him who they were related to, and generally make friends with him.

Jack suddenly felt eternally grateful that he had read the book on wizarding bloodlines first. At least half of the students here seemed to hold some stock in the concept that being from an old magical family meant something.

One of the younger students shoved his way down the table and leaned across to greet Jack, "Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy."

Jack nodded to him, smiling warmly in spite of his distaste for this sort of political ass-kissing, "Pleasure to meet you, I've heard a lot about your family." Jack said. He had actually only read the family name- it was one of the more prominent bloodlines mentioned in that book- but from the context, this wasn't a compliment. The boy seemed to interpret it as one anyway, and grinned as Jack shook his hand.

Jack felt disturbingly at home, here... it was almost like being back at the Agency, where anyone with a trace of infamy could get away with murder and the rest of them would cover for him. He got a feeling he was actually going to like it here.

x x x

"Harper, Owen."

"Good luck." Ianto whispered sincerely, from behind him, before he stepped up to put on the Hat. Owen nodded curtly, not reassured in the slightest. He had seen the warm welcome Gwen and Jack had met at their respective houses, but he had also seen the horror that everyone else had shown at Jack- clearly infamous, go figure- being sorted into Slytherin. Like they were the bad guys.

When he put the Hat on his head he was a bit annoyed to hear it talk to him, and even more annoyed by what it had to say, '_Oh dear... you are a very contrary person, aren't you? So intelligent, but no diligence. So loyal, but no drive. Very brave though, and headstrong. Yes, clearly..._'

"**_GRYFFINDOR!_**"

Owen took the Hat off and blithely wandered over to sit next to Gwen. That had been annoying, but at least it kept its opinions to itself. And it had effectively told everyone here that he was brave... that's not necessarily a bad thing.

x x x

"Jones, Ianto."

Ianto stepped up to the stool, positively buzzing with excitement at the very fact he was even here... even if he was good enough at hiding his real feelings to appear calm to the casual observer. He glanced briefly at Jack, and the last thing he saw before letting the Hat fall down over his eyes, was his Captain's trademark grin.

'_Oh, now you are a tricky one. Very cunning, you managed to fool your Captain for over a year, which is a trait most worthy of Slytherin house. The academic knowledge and research necessary to enact such a plan is impressive, too. Bravery proven beyond a doubt, many times. But... persistence and diligence to your work, loyalty beyond measure. Yes..._'

"_**HUFFLEPUFF!**_"

Ianto blinked, only slightly surprised, as he took the Hat off. When he met Jack's eyes this time it was to a slightly stunned stare. Jack had expected Ianto to be in the same house as him? Honestly, Ianto had expected it, too.

It didn't matter now. He quickly made his way to the Hufflepuff table, sitting as close as he could to where Gwen and Owen were, so that he could lean across the space between the two tables to talk with them.

As soon as he sat down, Gwen looked over at him and smiled... but Owen, "Alright, why's Slytherin a bad thing?" he asked immediately, fully expecting Ianto to know the answer.

"You must be Muggle-Born." another Gryffindor said, his tone friendly but condescending, "Everyone knows that Slytherin are the evil ones. Wasn't a witch or wizard went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

"And you are?" Ianto asked, the perfect picture of politeness, unless you actually knew him... because this was really his ominous tone.

"Ron Weasley." the boy said curtly, "I saw you and Harkness conspiring on your way in here."

"That's all you were doing?" Owen asked snidely, shooting a sideways glance at Ianto.

"Owen." Ianto said, glaring darkly, "Be silent, or I will make it my business to learn a silencing spell before you learn a shielding charm."

A Hufflepuff girl giggled at this, and Ianto flashed a brief smile at her. She had been sorted between Gwen and Owen, her name was Lindsay Davies.

"Good comeback." another Gryffindor boy said brightly, if a bit too fast... kind of like he had eaten too much sugar, "Hi, I'm Colin Creevy." Ianto nodded in a relatively warm greeting.

"Don't go making friends with him, he's with that Slytherin, Harkness!" Ron snapped.

"You have no idea." Owen grumbled.

Ianto raised an eyebrow, "That wasn't an idle threat, Owen."

"See, he's evil!" Ron snapped.

"Wanting to silence Owen isn't evil. It's practical." Gwen offered, smiling a bit too innocently, "Oh, look. Tosh is up!"

x x x

"Sato, Toshiko."

Tosh nervously approached the Hat, eyeing it sceptically. It doesn't bite... or it would have by now, surely. She carefully placed it on her head as she sat down, and having seen Gwen's reaction she was prepared for almost anything.

The voice she heard didn't bother her much, and she smiled slightly at what it said, '_Oh, such a mind I haven't seen in years!_'

"_**RAVENCLAW!**_"

Tosh took off the Hat and looked at her friends, feeling slightly forlorn at being alone. The only house table that didn't yet have a member of Torchwood seated there was cheering warmly and politely. Nowhere near so raucous as the others. It seemed the Ravenclaws were the cool and rational ones.

As if somehow sensing her disappointment, Ianto let out a loud whistle and cheered for her as well, "Yeah, Tosh! You rule!" he shouted, which did succeed in provoking a few members his house into joining the Ravenclaws' adulation, laughing at him as much as cheering for her.

She smiled and blushed slightly, as she quickly scurried down to join the Ravenclaw table.

x x x

Once the Sorting was completed, a buzz of chatter erupted in the crowded hall, as a couple of late students slunk in and hurried to the Gryffindor table. Several Slytherins started snickering, and Draco Malfoy leaned across to announce cheerfully, "I heard he passed out on the train, when the Dementors came round." nodding in the direction of the boy that had just arrived.

Jack frowned, "And how did they affect you?" he asked a bit too sharply. The others nearby looked at him and he blinked once, very quickly affecting his best innocently curious expression.

"Why'd you ask?" the prefect- he had called himself Marcus Flint- asked almost tensely, while Malfoy was too busy pointing and laughing at the Gryffindor boy.

"Answer the question, Draco." Jack insisted.

Draco distractedly turned to Jack, and shrugged, "Like I was gonna be sick."

The boy next to him- a weedy-looking kid who'd said his name was Theodore Nott- snorted, "Yeah, we all felt like there was nothing worth being happy about. Not exactly worth fainting over."

Jack's eyes darted around his housemates, calculating their expressions... and he came to the conclusion that Draco was lying, Theodore was most probably telling the truth, and Marcus was trying to hide something. He simply shrugged, "I heard somewhere that the more magically powerful you are, the worse the Dementors try to make you feel." he lied.

"And you buy that?" Draco snorted.

"I'd like to... since I nearly passed out." Jack said, emphasis very carefully applied to the word 'nearly', just enough to make sure they noticed the word without sounding like he thought it was that important.

They all glanced at each other, unsure now... until Marcus spoke up, "Gave me flashbacks, too. Bad memories." he admitted. Jack nodded slowly, accepting that as the best he'd get from them. They didn't seem the type to show weakness.

He shrugged, dismissing that debate in favor of asking, "Who is that Gryffindor, anyway?"

The stares he received for this told him it was a Very Dumb Question. "That's Harry Potter." one of his fellow first years said, stunned that he didn't know. He looked at the boy- the one who had interrupted Flitwick's speech, and who the Sorting had identified as Mark Avery- and showed his confusion with a slight frown.

"You _don't_ know who Harry Potter is?" the girl sitting next to Marcus- Emily Greengrass, another prefect- asked, incredulously.

Jack shook his head, and decided it best to stick with Demelza's theory, "Do I sound like I grew up in this country?"

"No, you sound American." Emily answered, making it easier for Jack to avoid lying outright. He usually tried to avoid it when he had a choice.

They glanced at each other with unsure frowns, but then shrugged and Marcus explained, "He's famous for stopping You-Know-Who when he was only one year old. Of course no one knows _how_ that's even possible, but most people seem to buy it anyway."

"I think he just got credit for being the last-man-standing." Theodore said blithely, "We're in the same class, and he's really not that great."

"Right." Jack said, glancing across the Hall to see that Gwen and Owen were being introduced to the apparent celebrity by a couple of the older Gryffindors.

The chatter of the crowd was finally beginning to die down, and now the old man in the centre of the staff-table- clearly the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore- rose to speak, "Welcome!" he said in a warm and friendly voice, "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast." It was quite impressive how easily he now held the entire hall's rapt attention.

"As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express-" he continued, "-our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business." he really didn't look too pleased about this- in fact he seemed as if he quite despised the thought of it.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises... or even invisibility cloaks." was it Jack's imagination, or was he looking specifically at the Gryffindors as he said that? He'd have to find out more about these 'invisibility cloaks', they sounded useful.

"It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses." the Headmaster explained, "I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs foul of the Dementors." he paused now to systematically look at every single student with an intensity that made Jack quite uncomfortable.

Then quite suddenly, his mood lifted and he spoke again, "On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. Firstly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Not many people seemed keen to applaud for Lupin. A fair few Gryffindors near where Harry Potter sat did, however, make the effort. Gwen and Owen joined in more out of politeness, it seemed, rather than anything else.

"As to our second new appointment, well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs." Now that didn't sound good... note to self, never take Care of Magical Creatures class, "However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

"That big oaf ... a teacher?" Draco asked sceptically, almost horrified even, while most of the school cheered for the giant of a man who had led the first year students up to the castle.

"What's wrong with him?" one of the other first years- Zoe Alderton- asked.

"He's utterly incompetent." Draco sniped darkly, clearly most displeased with this new appointment... as if he had a personal grudge against this teacher.

"Well I think that's everything of importance." Professor Dumbledore said brightly, "Let the feast begin!"

And with those words, food appeared on the table out of thin air. Jack stared at the vast feast for several seconds, unsure exactly where to begin, before simply shrugging and going for whatever was closest, as most of the other students seemed to be doing.

He found himself grateful not to be sitting further down the table, near where Draco had been before coming down here to meet him. Two boys up there seemed intent on eating the entire feast themselves, threatening stabbings with forks to those who went for the same plate of food as they did.

x x x

Tosh nervously went along with the group of Ravenclaw first years, up to the fifth floor on what she believed was the western side of the castle. Up a tightly spiralling staircase that they were only able to ascend in single-file. It was a bit of a tight squeeze for them all, and soon they were packed into the stairway but something must be stopping them from going further.

The prefect, Roger Davies, called down to them quite clearly, "Access to Ravenclaw house isn't like the other three houses." he informed them, "They have a password, only members of their house may know it, and it's easy enough to remember. Ravelclaws require logic. A little question that doesn't often have a 'right' answer, but a display of logic in attempting to answer it is all that's needed to get in."

The sound of a doorknocker tapping echoed down to where Tosh waited, and then a soft voice asked in a melodic lilting tone, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

Murmuring erupted down the stairway, and one boy a couple of steps up from Tosh laughed, "I've seen this episode!" he then mimicked the sound of a tree falling. Tosh was sure he was referring to an episode of The Simpsons.

Roger Davies chuckled, while the rest of the first years giggled. The lilting voice replied, however, "Sometimes the simplest solution may be the correct one."

"She liked that, but would anyone else care to try?" Roger asked, "Make sure you all know what she's expecting?"

No one else answered, either too shy, or unsure of what else could be said. So Tosh spoke, "The energy that creates what we perceive as sound still exists, but sound itself is based in human perception... so the answer is actually yes _and_ no."

"Marvellous deduction indeed!" the lilting voice called down to her. Tosh grinned brightly.

"Wow. You're good." Roger said, laughing nervously, "When she asks me that one, I usually say, 'with no one around to hear it, how will we ever know?' Come on up, then." he called brightly.

And the group began to move again, until they had all filed through a door- being welcomed warmly by that lilting voice, which appeared to be coming from a bronze doorknocker in the form of an eagle, as they passed it- into a large and airily spacious room. Graceful arched windows gave a panoramic view of the school grounds, spanning from a dark-looking forest across to an odd structure involving golden hoops, which she would guess was for this game- Quidditch- that Oliver Wood had told them about.

A soft midnight-blue carpet beneath their feet showed accurate renderings of constellations, while blue and bronze hangings adorned the walls. Bookcases and old-fashioned study tables were all around, and a small cluster of armchairs huddled by a cosy-looking little fireplace. The high ceiling matched the floor, but the stars there twinkled brightly... possibly in time to the sky above.

To the far side of the room from the main door were another two doors she guessed must lead to dormitories, and possibly other rooms as well. Between these doors stood a life-sized statue of a beautiful woman in witches robes, wearing a tiara, and holding a book with some love or reverence for the tome in her arms.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw." Roger announced. A couple of older students glanced up from their study tables, waved brightly, and then went back to work. "While we're here, I'd like you all to remember that, unless we win a Quidditch match- or something of equal importance like the world ending- the common room is to be treated with the same hushed respect as the Library."

One of the two older students- a Chinese girl- giggled at this, "Except Madam Pince isn't here to threaten you if you accidentally crease a page in her books." she announced cheerfully with a slightly Scottish accent that seemed almost entirely out of place on her.

"Quite." Roger said with a slight frown at that, "But the fact remains, there will always be someone trying to work, and it's only polite to allow them to get on with it, wouldn't you all agree?" The first years all nodded, some more eagerly than others.

Tosh found that she was liking this place more and more. A glance at the bookcases told her that they were ordered by subject and then alphabetised by title. The desks were all neatly arranged, not even a scrap of parchment was left out of place, and she did feel that sense of silent study that she associated so positively with any library she had ever been in.

Yes, she decided that she really could enjoy living and studying here.

x x x

Gwen and Owen followed behind the rest of the of Gryffindor first years, up several flights of stairs ("Careful, the staircases like to move") into one of the corridors on the seventh floor. A portrait at the far end of this corridor showed a rather large woman in a pink dress, who smiled warmly and waved at them as they arrived.

The prefect who had led them here- and vaguely introduced herself as Angelina- announced, "This is the way in to Gryffindor Tower. The password is 'Fortuna Major'."

The portrait swung out from the wall, allowing them access to a hidden passage behind it. Through this passageway, they found a large tower-room, decked out in red and gold hangings, all the chairs and other decorations were in the same colours, and some kind of enchanted object that looked like a neon green frisbee was zooming around the ceiling... and giggling.

The place looked cosy and comfortable, while at the same time thoroughly chaotic.

"Wow, tea-boy's gonna be happy he didn't get put into Gryffindor." Owen muttered, staring around for a moment before adding, "I really like this place!"

Gwen elbowed him sharply, as Angelina began to speak again, "Boys dormitories up the stairs to your left, girls up the stairs to the right." she announced, with the sort of false cheer of one who really didn't want to be doing this, but also didn't want to show it, "Breakfast's at eight, and no one in their right mind should ever leave their Potions' homework until the last minute." with that dismissal, she pulled out a book titled '_Advanced Potions Making_' and settled down into one of the chairs to read it.

Owen chuckled at this as they headed towards the stairs, "See you in the morning, right?" he asked.

Gwen nodded, and headed up the stairs to the right with the three girls Jack had met on the boat and one other who the Sorting Hat had identified as Rachel Williamson.

Up in the first year girls' dormitory, Gwen easily found her own bed by the fact that her clearly labelled school trunk was at the foot of it. Pulling out her copy of '_Magical Drafts and Potions_', she settled down cross-legged in the middle of the bed, to read.

"I can't believe Jack Harkness is a _Slytherin!_" Demelza Robins said to the others. Gwen perked her ears up, while still looking at her book.

"I know!" Romilda said in shocked agreement, "I mean, he seemed so _nice_, when we were on the boats."

"Must have been an act, I mean we all know what Slytherins are like, don't we?" Rachel pointed out darkly.

"No... we don't _all_ know." Vicky muttered nervously, "Why, what's wrong with Slytherin?"

"You-Know-Who was a Slytherin." Romilda said in a hushed and fearful whisper, "They're all bad news, that house."

Gwen snapped her book closed with a sharp thumping sound, and looked up at the others, "He's not a bad person." she said defensively.

"Everyone who goes into Slytherin house is always trouble." Romilda insisted, "Everyone knows that!"

"Yeah, Trouble is Jack's middle name." Gwen agreed, "Possibly literally." she added thoughtfully, before continuing, "That doesn't make him bad, though."

The other girls eyed Gwen doubtfully, but Vicky was the one who asked, "You're his friend, right?" warily. Gwen nodded, "So what's he really like, then?"

"He's brilliant." Gwen said eagerly, "Really smart, a great friend." she hesitated, considering that everything else she could say about him would be telling of their real lives, before they had been brought to Hogwarts. "He's really a good person, I swear." she finished kind of lamely, but with determination nonetheless.

Vicky seemed to consider Gwen's words, but the others just looked at her doubtfully.

x x x

Ianto was swept along with nine other first year Hufflepuffs, as they were led by a fifth-year prefect- Cedric Diggory- down into a basement-like level of the castle. They stopped between a pair of paintings on opposite walls. One was of a bowl of fruit, and the other was of a cosy looking cottage, "Alright." Cedric said, turning to face the second painting, "The password is 'Butterbeer'."

As soon as he said it, the painting slid to one side to reveal a round wooden door.

"Incidentally..." Diggory observed, "The kitchens are just behind that painting. Free food, whenever you like." he said with a wink and a grin. Everyone looked over at the other painting behind them, curiously... and when they turned back, Diggory was standing in the open doorway. "Well, come on in." he said brightly.

They followed him into a large room. It felt so... homey. The walls were panelled in soft warm wood, with yellow, gold and earth-tone hangings almost randomly dotted around to break up the solid color of the wood. Plump overstuffed armchairs and sofas were scattered about in little clumps. A merrily roaring fire crackled in the fireplace, and the soft golden lighting made this place feel really... safe.

Ianto hated it.

He was used to and preferred the cool, stark and almost ominous metals and electronics of Torchwood. His own flat, where he spent so very little time anymore, was practically clinical with cleanliness and order. This place seemed so... rustic. He felt almost ill in wonderment at how these people just didn't know how to tidy up after themselves.

The school year hadn't even started yet, but he noticed the handful of magazines haphazardly thrown onto one of the couches, the yellow-gold robes draped randomly over two separate armchairs. The notice board with so many things just pinned on top of each other with no care for what was hidden beneath- a closer look showed him that some of these notices dated back to before he was born!

Somebody's owl making a bit of a racket, still in its cage on one of the desks he assumed was intended for doing homework. Bookshelves where the books were stacked at funny angles with scraps of crumpled notepaper between their pages.

He was either going to be driven insane looking at this room, spend _no_ time here, or have to organise the place. Possibly all three... likely in that order, too.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff!" Diggory announced cheerfully. Ianto glared at him. "Dormitories are just down those two corridors-" he pointed off to his left, and Ianto glanced that way to see two more round doors, "Boys on the left, girls on the right. Your rooms will be clearly marked for first years, and your luggage will be waiting for you. Now get to bed. Breakfast is at eight AM, and you'll probably want to follow some of the older students, until you know how to find your way back. The corridors are temperamental, and prone to changing."

Ianto frowned, reluctantly accepting these instructions, as he followed the other boys down a perfectly round tunnel-like corridor to their room. "We're in the Shire!" one boy joked, as they found the correct door, which like the others was also perfectly round. The joke did seem to fit quite well.

It wasn't an unpleasant room, and all five beds were large four-posters with gold-coloured curtains... and if his own was any indication, they were all very comfortable, too. In spite of the fact that he felt completely out of place here, he managed to fall asleep within seconds, where usually it would take him at least an hour or so of staring at the ceiling to fall asleep without Jack.

x x x

Jack was at the front of the group of Slytherin first years, as they followed Emily Greengrass down to the lower levels of the castle. It had a distinctly dungeon-y feel to it, down here... and while Jack knew that atmosphere could be re-created he was quite sure this was the real thing. He wouldn't be surprised at all to peer through one of these heavy wooden doors and find a torture chamber, complete with rack and iron maiden.

Emily stopped at a blank wall, and turned to face them, "You'll need to learn to find this on your own." she informed them, pointing down the corridor, "See the painting of Wendelin the Weird down there?" she asked.

Everyone peered past her to see a moving- and now that she had been named, cackling- portrait of a witch bound to a stake as if about to be burned for, well, witchcraft. A bit of nervous laughter rippled through the group of students, and one girl- whom the Sorting had identified as Lucy Rosier- pointed out brightly, "I heard she enjoyed that so much she deliberately got caught by Muggles like fifty times."

"What, being burnt at the stake?" Jack asked, incredulously, knowing damned well what it felt like to be burned alive, even if not in that specific context, "Really doesn't sound like that much fun to me."

"Flame-freezing spells." Lucy observed, giving Jack a 'well duh' look, "They make it just kinda tickle." Jack scowled at her, but said nothing more on the subject.

Emily ignored the debate and continued her explanation, "A lot of people think she guards the doors to our common room... but really, she's just a landmark. We're right here." she turned and waved a hand at the bare stretch of wall between two burning braziers on the wall. "You'll need to remember the password, so listen up." she now spoke, it seemed, directly to the wall, "'Toujours pur'."

And the wall slid back to reveal a hidden passageway. Jack frowned very slightly at the password. He wasn't a linguistics expert, but he knew some French- even if it was a dead language in his own time- and he knew what the password actually meant. Whoever chose it was clearly one of those people who believed the drivel that he'd been reading on the train.

Emily led them up the lightly sloping narrow corridor, and turned a corner into a much larger room.

Cold stone walls were broken up with tapestries in rich shades of green and where there wasn't a tapestry there was a bookcase. Dark leather sofas and armchairs were dotted at apparently random intervals around the floor, a small group of which had the good fortune to be right next to a roaring fireplace that managed to feel warm in spite of the fire being _green_.

Overhead, green-shaded ceiling lights glowed softly, while on some desks candles burned to provide better light. "You really like the house colours, here..." he muttered, earning sharp looks from some of the first years, and a bemused laugh from Emily. At the colder stares he felt the need to respond, "What? I prefer blue." he protested in all innocence.

Emily really laughed again, and a couple of the other Slytherins looked amused by it. Avery and Rosier continued to scowl at him.

"For those of you who are unfamiliar with Slytherin house." Emily said, glancing mostly at Jack, but also at a couple of the other students who appeared nervous, "Everyone hates us, because our Founder was reputed to be a bit of a jerk. Then You-Know-Who says he was in our house, and half of us up and join him. Nobody bothers to remember the 'exceptions', like Sirius Black who was a Gryffindor, Crouch Junior from Hufflepuff, or that one of the Davies family- all Ravenclaws, the lot of them- went to the dark side."

"One's a Hufflepuff this year." a boy called Malcolm Radford pointed out, and was glared into silence by the prefect.

"That's not even accounting for the fact that most of You-Know-Who's followers weren't even from Britain. He recruited from Germany and Bulgaria as well." Emily continued pointedly, "So we have a bad reputation... and if we get called on it, I don't care if you hate the person standing next to you, we _stick together_. Understand?"

Everyone nodded slowly, even Jack... though he was already fully planning on stealing Ianto's copy of 'Hogwarts: A History', to find out more about just how much of a jerk Slytherin was supposed to have been.

"Alright then." she said, nodding, "Breakfast at eight... but be warned, you shouldn't go wandering alone on your first day... easy way to get lost, so stick with someone who knows the place, okay?" Once more, everyone nodded, "Dormitories are that way. Boys on the left, girls on the right." she said, waving dismissively at a pair of corridors leading out of the common room. "Shoo. Scat. Go!" she laughed, before turning and heading down the girls' dorm corridor herself.

x x x


	6. Day One: Hogwarts Style

x x x

**Chapter 6: Day One... Hogwarts Style**

x x x

Jack Harkness didn't sleep much at the best of times- unless he had recently died, that was usually very tiring- and he had always blamed his insomnia on his curse of immortality. He had quickly discovered that this had continued even after he had been de-aged, as he had found himself unable to sleep the night before coming to Hogwarts, and now his first night here.

Although the disturbing and completely unfounded feeling that Mark Avery might try to kill him in his sleep may have contributed to that.

He had spent the better part of the night reading by candlelight in the common room, effectively trying to get a head-start on the first day's classes, whatever they may be. So it was that he had now read the first few pages of all his school books, and a fair chunk of '_Magical Law and Law Enforcement_'.

The chapter on how the Ministry of Magic employed Dementors was truly sickening. Not only were they the jailers of the most secure magical prison in the world- Azkaban, from which Sirius Black had apparently escaped- but they were also used as a form of capital punishment that didn't kill the victim, but in Jack's opinion was far worse than death.

It was called a Dementor's Kiss... in which the Dementor literally sucks out the victim's soul through their mouth. The very thought made him want to hunt down whoever decided such a punishment was justified, and force them to experience it for themselves.

For now, however, it was about 7am, and he wanted to prove a very different point. He left the common room on his own, and started walking.

It took him about ten minutes to find the main entrance hall, and as he approached the double-doors that led to the dining hall, he noticed something move in his peripheral vision. He glanced in that direction and saw the headmaster standing there. He was sure the man hadn't been there a moment ago.

"I do believe this is a new record, Mr Harkness." Albus Dumbledore said calmly, crossing the hall and passing Jack on his way to the dining hall. The tone and body-language strongly suggested Jack should walk with him to continue the conversation. He did so.

"For what, sir?" Jack asked, curiously.

"For someone new the school to learn to navigate the corridors so quickly." Dumbledore said with a faint smile. Jack frowned, keeping his eyes on where he was going, as they walked slowly down the length of the great hall. He didn't really trust this man... at all. "To find your way here, from your common room, so quickly on your first day."

"Quickly?" Jack asked, smirking, "How do you know I wasn't awake at four AM?" ...which he actually was. He had a good guess at why the castle was easier for him to navigate, though... and it might have had something to do with those two months he had spent on the TARDIS with the Doctor and Rose, learning to follow instinct rather than memory for a sense of direction.

"Wendelin informed me when you left your common room." the headmaster answered with a slight shrug.

"So am I constantly being spied on, here?" Jack asked, curiously, "And more to the point, why tell me?"

"You are not being spied upon, Mr Harkness." Dumbledore said idly, "It is simply in the best interests of all Hogwarts inhabitants, students and staff alike, that the hallways be observed. Had you gotten turned around, I believe it was Ravenclaw's house ghost who had set to following you, and would have guided you here."

"Following me?" Jack asked, stopping short at the end of the Ravenclaw table. He was more sceptically amused now, rather than genuinely offended. In his mind, he was beginning to compare it to security cameras in the real world.

Dumbledore stopped a few steps further ahead, at the point where the first year students had waited to be sorted last night, in front of the staff table, and turned to face Jack, looking serious now, "As I am sure you are aware, unless you slept through my speech last night- and I would not begrudge you for doing so- there is a dangerous criminal on the loose, and it is in your best interests to be kept safe."

Jack nodded, looking up at him... but when he met the old man's eyes he quite quickly became aware of an attempt at reading his mind. Memories- of his old flat, his past-self, his friends and all their reactions to the sudden unexpected arrival of five owls- flashed quickly across the front of his mind, before he could react.

He averted his eyes immediately, and after thinking about what had just happened for a second, he came to the conclusion that the headmaster had only seen images, not been aware of his thoughts or emotions on the subject of these images. Nothing important or personal.

Jack made a mental note to research magical forms of telepathy. "I understand, sir." he said with a frown.

He could feel the headmaster's gaze on him, still, and didn't feel comfortable with it at all. He knew very few mind-readers, and only one he had ever trusted. A careful glance confirmed that Dumbledore was also frowning slightly... probably annoyed that his mind-reading trick had failed.

But then he nodded in acceptance of Jack's answer. Nothing else he could do about the failed telepathy, short of admitting to trying it in the first place, or forcibly reading his mind. Somehow Jack doubted that either option was something that this man would even consider.

"Sir... if I may ask?" Jack asked, suddenly.

The headmaster had just been about to leave him to his own devices, had taken a couple of steps towards the staff table before Jack had spoken, but now he turned to face Jack, who carefully kept his gaze focused on thin air a few of inches to the right of the man's face.

"Yes, Mr Harkness?" he replied in an amicable tone that belied what they both knew had happened a few seconds ago... whether or not he knew that Jack was aware of it.

"Three questions. One is incredibly rude and I'll understand if you refuse to answer." Jack said with a grin, "The second is very serious and I hope that you'll answer me honestly. The third is perfectly innocent."

"Very well." Dumbledore said, appearing amused at the up-front way Jack was presenting these questions.

"How old are you, sir?" Jack asked, his grin becoming most incredibly impudent.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in surprise, but did answer, "I am one hundred and twelve years old, Mr Harkness." Whether this answer was true or not, didn't really seem to matter. In the back of his mind, Jack was silently cheering. In spite of appearances, he was still older than this man, and that made him feel a great deal more confident.

"Why are the Dementors allowed near the school?" Jack asked bluntly, "After last night, I read up on them... being _near_ one is cruel and unusual punishment. Allowing them near defenceless children..."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, "I did my best to dispute the Ministry's decision in this matter. I have, however, insisted that they not be allowed to enter the school grounds. As long as you do not wander, you will be safe."

Jack frowned, "Right..." he said darkly, before feigning cheerfulness as he asked his third question, "What's my first class today? Only I've got some time to kill here..."

Dumbledore looked mildly amused, but answered this as well, "Potions."

"Thanks." Jack said, nodding politely to the headmaster, before making his way over to the Slytherin table. Breakfast would be starting in about ten minutes, but he had time to read before then.

x x x

Ianto and the four other first year Hufflepuff boys were following a pair of older Hufflepuff students up to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was glad he had listened to the prefect about this. He really wouldn't have been able to get there on his own.

Just as they reached the entrance hall, an unidentified creature swept down at them from the ceiling. The two older students had made it to the dining hall ahead of them, before this creature had shown itself, and now the five first years were left to fend for themselves.

"Firstie firstie firsties!" it cheered, zooming around them in circles, throwing chalkboard erasers at them. The first two students were struck on an arm and in the face, respectively. Ianto quickly ducked, and was the first one to avoid being covered in chalk-dust.

The creature took offence at his ability to dodge, and threw two more at him. The other boys had scattered, but Ianto caught the second one in one hand and dodged the third. All those nights of Weevil-hunting had really honed his reflexes. Or was it all those nights with Jack? Possibly both.

"_PEEVES!_" a voice bellowed from the top of the marble staircase.

"_Flichy Fartsy Filchy Filch!_" the creature- Peeves- cackled, before zooming off, its voice echoing, "_Can't catch me Filchy!_" as it fled.

The man- who was probably named Filch, but Ianto wouldn't dare take that creature's word for it- gave chase, closely followed by a slightly ragged looking longhaired tortoiseshell cat. The cat took the trouble to try to trip the two boys with dust on their robes, but other than that kept close to the man's heels.

"What was that?" one of the other two boys whose uniform was unharmed asked.

"Peeves, Mr Filch, and Mrs Norris." a girl said, trotting down the marble steps, "Hi, boys, I'm Lilah Wildsmith. Ravenclaw prefect." she said brightly.

Ianto nodded, and then saw Tosh and a couple of other girls who had clearly been following Lilah down to breakfast. Tosh smiled and ran down the rest of the steps to Ianto, "You okay?" she asked him.

"Peeves is mostly harmless." Lilah admitted, "He's a Poltergeist. Trouble, but he's mischievous rather than malicious."

"I'm fine, Tosh." Ianto answered.

"It's the caretaker Filch, and his cat Mrs Norris, who you ought to watch out for." Lilah added, moving closer and gathering all the first years around her, "He's a Squib, you see. Jealous of the rest of us, and looking for any excuse to get us in trouble. I think it's his life goal to get someone expelled."

"What's a Squib?" one of the other Ravenclaw girls asked.

"It's a relatively insulting- but commonly used- term for a person from a magical family, who has no magical power themselves." Ianto answered the girl. Everyone looked at him and he shrugged, "My father's one."

With that, Ianto turned and left the group. Tosh followed him, and together they entered the dining hall. After scanning the room, he saw that Gwen and Owen were conspiring, thick as thieves, at the Gryffindor table, while Jack sat alone at the Slytherin table picking at his breakfast.

He and Tosh shared a glance, before nodding wordlessly and splitting up. Tosh went to find out what Gwen and Owen were up to, while Ianto made his way over to Jack.

Just as he approached the Slytherin table, a voice from the far end of said table called out loudly, "Hey, Potter! Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooo!" a blonde boy was taunting the celebrity of Gryffindor house. The same boy had just done a very dramatic imitation of a fainting fit for a large Slytherin audience.

Ianto noticed that Jack was watching the source of the disturbance idly, as he sat down next to him and picked up a piece of toast to eat.

"How old is he?" Ianto asked quietly, "I didn't know they let overgrown five-year-olds or mentally handicapped students into Hogwarts?"

"He's thirteen, and he actually seems relatively civilised, when he's not acting up for attention." Jack answered blithely, before turning to grin at Ianto, "Oh, and don't let Dumbledore look you in the eyes, he's a telepath."

"You figured this out how?" Ianto asked warily.

Jack raised an eyebrow, grinning, "How do you think?" Ianto rolled his eyes, exasperated, but Jack continued before he could say anything, "Don't worry, he doesn't know anything important. You might want to tell the others to watch it, though."

Ianto nodded slowly, glancing around at the rest of the food on offer, "Hmm... no coffee. I'll have to do something about that."

"Like what?" Jack asked, suddenly perking up at this thought.

"Like get you some coffee." Ianto said evasively, with perfectly false innocence.

"Ianto Jones, if you can do that, I will love you forever!" Jack cheered gleefully. Ianto smiled weakly, knowing that it was only said in jest and caffeine withdrawal. He kind of wished that Jack really meant it.

Instead, he looked across the room to the Gryffindor table, "Right, I'll go warn the others." he said bluntly, before quickly standing and making his way across the hall.

x x x

Gwen and Owen had been going over timetables, and discussing ways of finding out why they had been as good as summoned here, when Tosh had joined them. And she had just finished filling them in on the Peeves incident, and the dangers of disenfranchised Squibs, when Ianto approached.

"Look at him, waltzing on over here like he thinks he owns the place." Ron Weasley grumbled darkly, glaring at Ianto.

"You leave him alone!" Owen snapped, but looked blatantly embarrassed when he realised Ianto had already been within earshot when he'd said it. Sticking up for the tea-boy was one thing, but letting Ianto actually find out about it was another matter entirely. Owen glowered at Ron and muttered under his breath, "Ginger twat."

Gwen heard this, and snorted with poorly suppressed laughter.

"What's so funny?" Ianto asked blandly, as he sat down next to Tosh and found a pastry nearby to claim for his own. Breakfast on the move, because he felt the need to maintain the balance between his friends and colleagues, who were now separated by this school's unique house placement system.

"Owen." Gwen said innocently, as if she had been laughing at him instead of at the remark he'd made.

Owen pulled a face, "Need coffee." he complained.

"I'm sure they'll have some tomorrow." Ianto reassured him, "Just you wait and see."

"Tomorrow? Twenty-four hours with no coffee? You're killing me here!" he whined.

"I assure you, if I wanted you dead, I could have done it a hundred times over by now, Owen." Ianto said blithely, peering carefully at a jug of some kind of reddish-orange juice. He poured some into an unused glass and took a sip, "This tastes like it's got loads of sugar in it, though. That might help?"

"Bite me." Owen snarked.

"Ask nicely." Ianto sniped right back.

"Your timetable, Miss Sato." a voice said from right behind Tosh and Ianto. They turned to see Professor Lupin standing right behind them, holding out a sheet of parchment, "It's usually advisable to stay at your own house table on the first day, so that your teachers and prefects can find you more easily."

"Sorry, sir." Tosh said nervously taking her parchment.

"And yours, Mr Jones." Lupin added, glancing in an almost annoyed way at Owen, as Ianto took his own timetable.

"Thank you, Professor." Ianto said politely. As soon as the teacher left them alone again, Ianto turned around and asked, "Alright, Owen... what did you do?"

"Nothing I swear!" Owen complained, "I guess he just doesn't like me."

Ianto rolled his eyes at Owen's blatant denial, but then began to relay Jack's warning to the others.

x x x

"So what did the Hat say to you?" Gwen asked, as Jack sat next to her in their first class. It was Potions.

Jack turned to look at her with his usual cocky grin, and quite bluntly declared, "I refuse to answer that on the grounds that Owen will laugh."

"Even magically animated clothing isn't safe!" Owen- who was sitting on Gwen's other side- cried out, laughing anyway.

"What are you doing?" Mark Avery asked, his tone all-but hissing in his obvious annoyance.

Jack glanced in his direction, looking at him as if this was just about the dumbest question he'd ever heard in his life, "Talking to my friends." he answered in his most blatant 'what are you, stupid?' tone.

"But they're Gryffindors!" Avery snapped, trying his best to look intimidating as he stood over where Jack now sat.

Jack very slowly turned his head to face Avery directly, and then stood up just as slowly, showing that he was slightly taller than the other boy, and Avery really couldn't make the intimidating looming thing work on him.

No one noticed as the door opened silently, and their teacher paused in the doorway, observing the imminent confrontation.

"You expect me to throw away years of friendship because a moth-eaten piece of enchanted rags told us last night that my friends happened to be brave?" Jack hissed. Avery cringed slightly. "You know, Slytherin won last night. You got the infamous pureblood name, so congratulations. But one more word against my friends and you will personally learn just _why_ my name is so infamous."

Jack stared Avery down for another few seconds, before the shorter Slytherin gave in and retreated to his own seat. Then their teacher- a tall and ominous man with greasy black hair and equally black eyes- cleared his throat pointedly. Jack took one look at him and sat down quickly, too.

"I am Professor Severus Snape." he said, by way of introduction. His tone was soft but menacing, in the sort of way that tells you to pay complete attention to his every word or you'll seriously regret it. He began with the roll-call... checking that everyone had managed to find and chosen to attend his class.

On some names he would hesitate, like Avery for one... and just like Albus Dumbledore, the way he looked the other Slytherin in the eyes was unnerving... like he could read the boy's mind.

Jack quickly leaned over and whispered to Gwen, "Don't look him in the eyes, either." he warned her, while watching Professor Snape very carefully. Gwen gave him a confused glance, possibly wondering just how many mind-readers there were in this school, but she did pass the message on to Owen.

Snape turned sharply to look at Jack, "Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class, Mr Harkness?"

Jack blinked, and looked up at Snape, purposefully employing an old Agency trick for dealing with mind-readers, "No, sir." he said, in the tone that all-but offered to share what he was thinking if Snape really wanted him to. However, _what_ he was thinking included several ways in which the eerie eye-contact the teacher has made with his other student had looked almost indecent.

Snape didn't show any signs of recognising the thought, but simply turned and called out the next name on the list. Either he had accepted Jack's answer at face value and wasn't really a mind-reader... or he was a _very_ good actor. Jack, being a former Time Agent, opted for the paranoid approach.

The rest of the roll-call went by without incident. Snape breezed over Jack's name without even glancing at him, although a couple of other Slytherins- Elaine Gibbon and Lucy Rosier- received similarly intense stares.

Finally, after the last name was called, Snape turned to the class as a whole and began what sounded distinctly like a practiced speech, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making." he intoned, in that ominously authoritative voice, "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic." he explained.

"See, I told you wand-waving was foolish." Owen hissed at Gwen, who elbowed him to shut up as Snape shot a glare at the pair of them... but chose to continue his speech rather than telling off the student who had just agreed with him.

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death... if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Owen grinned, seeming to rise to the challenge of this speech quite eagerly. Jack leaned past Gwen, and whispered loudly, "You are going to _rule_ in this class, Owen."

Snape heard him- Jack had meant him to- and snapped sharply, "Harper!"

Owen mock-glared at Jack, who answered the expression with a practically gleeful grin. He then turned to answer, "Yes, Professor?"

"Tell me, what potion requires powdered silver, essence of mistletoe, and concentrated aconite as its primary ingredients?" Snape commanded.

Owen resisted the urge to smirk at this. He had spent the entire train-ride reading up on Potions, after discovering that magical medicine used them quite extensively. He had managed to skim through most of the text-book that was supposed to cover the first five years of a wizard's education in this subject.

And he'd recognised the bit about mistletoe from something in the Torchwood database, too.

"Well, we're not meant to learn about this 'til fifth year, and even then it's so complicated we're not expected to ever learn how to make it properly... but..." Owen smiled in a perfect illusion of innocence, "I'm pretty sure that's called the Wolfsbane potion."

Snape blinked, stared at Owen for a couple of seconds, then shot a brief glare at the smugly grinning Jack Harkness, before pretending that _that_ had not just happened, and going about his lesson-plan for a simple potion to cure boils.

By the end of the day, Owen's potion was the only perfect one in the class. Snape made no comment on it, silently and reluctantly marking it with a perfect grade and moving on to criticise the rest of the Gryffindors' work. It seemed obvious that he hated Gryffindors with a passion... Jack made a note of this for future reference.

x x x

Jack's next class was Herbology, taught by a very kindly looking woman, named Professor Sprout, who was apparently also the head teacher of Hufflepuff house.

In the same way that Potions was shared with the Gryffindors, Herbology was shared with Ravenclaw. So it was that Jack and Tosh worked together, both in disgusted silence, as neither of them appreciated the fact that this subject involved putting both 'practical work' and 'dragon dung' in the same sentence.

Everyone in that class took most of their lunch break to go back to their respective common rooms for a shower and a change of clothes. Jack was the only Slytherin or Ravenclaw first year who got to eat anything for lunch that day, seeing as he was able to actually _find_ his common room in good time.

x x x

After lunch was Charms with the Hufflepuffs, taught by Professor Flitwick. Ianto seemed quite relieved to find Jack there, and slumped down next to him, "If he wasn't already dead..." he hissed in a threatening tone.

"Who?" Jack asked, slightly concerned.

"Our history teacher is a ghost." Ianto announced with a tone of depression, as he gave Jack a baleful look, "Have you ever been bored to death?" he asked. Jack warily shook his head, "It may yet happen, when you get his class."

"That bad?" Jack asked, smirking.

"I like history, Jack." Ianto complained, "He made me want to hate it." his voice lowered darkly as he added, "He also made me want to find a way to resurrect him, just so I could torture him to death using his own History textbooks as blunt instruments."

Jack snorted with suppressed laughter at that thought, but then, "Harkness, Jack?" Flitwick's voice called out, and he jumped slightly, turning to look at the teacher, who now stood atop a stack of books so as to be seen.

"Yes?" Jack asked, unsure.

Flitwick gave him a stern look, which seemed incredibly out of place on the diminutive teacher's amicable face, "Present." he said with some emphasis, but he didn't press the point that Jack had been ignoring the roll-call.

"Jones, Ianto?"

"Present." Ianto intoned innocently, earning a half-glare from Jack.

Once the roll-call was finished, Flitwick cleared his throat, "Alright, class. Wands out!" Professor Flitwick announced. Jack and Ianto shared an amused look, but both obeyed the teacher, "Today we shall be learning the most basic of charms. Levitation."

Ianto's eyes lit up, and he leaned over to Jack, "Two words... Star Wars."

Jack snorted with laughter, "'Judge me by my size, do you?'" he snickered.

"I pity Owen's class..." Ianto muttered, smiling almost cruelly, as if he really felt no pity for them at all, "I think Gryffindor had charms this morning, too."

"Yeah, I think so." Jack said, nodding, "While I had Herbology, and you suffered in history class."

Ianto shuddered at the clearly traumatic memories of the cruel abuse his favourite subject had been forced to endure... but then he smiled far too innocently and raised his hand, looking to the teacher now.

"Yes, Mr Jones?" Flitwick asked after a moment.

"Excuse me, sir... but when will we be able to learn silencing charms?" he asked innocently.

Flitwick frowned, "Fifth year." he said sharply. Ianto sulked slightly, and muttered darkly under his breath. "Is there a problem, Mr Jones?"

"I just know someone I really want to use that spell on, sir." Ianto answered honestly, eliciting snickers from some Slytherins, and shocked stares from his fellow Hufflepuffs.

Flitwick stared him down, finally saying, "Charms are not intended as weapons, Mr Jones."

Ianto frowned, "Sir... you had our year's Gryffindor class, earlier, yes?"

"Yes." Flitwick answered, sounding wary now.

"When you said 'wands out'... who laughed?" Ianto asked, his face perfectly straight, completely serious. This time, not only did the Slytherins snicker, most of the Hufflepuff girls giggled, and Jack snorted with surprise that Ianto would _dare_ say this to the teacher.

Flitwick scowled, "Mr Owen Harper." he answered.

"It's not a weapon, sir... it's a public service." Ianto answered with a curt nod, and the entire class was laughing now.

x x x

At breakfast the next day, Jack was surprised to find a steaming mug of fresh, hot coffee magically appear next to his plate as soon as he sat down. Owen's cries of glee and gratitude to every imaginary deity ever conceived of could be heard across the hall mere seconds later. Ianto seated himself opposite Jack and feigned innocence as he sipped at a mug of coffee of his own.

"You're amazing, Ianto!" Jack said, grinning brightly.

"So you've said before." Ianto said smugly.

Jack took a sip of the coffee and grinned at him, "Alright, you have to tell me exactly how you did this."

"Do I?" Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow, "You've never demanded to know the secrets of how I operate, before." Jack gave him a pleading look, which seemed to go completely unnoticed, "The girls seem to have resolved themselves to adapt to life without coffee." Ianto observed, in an attempt to change the subject.

"Ianto." Jack complained, in a falsely stern tone of voice.

Ianto shrugged, "I found the kitchens." he said, and this seemed to be the end of the conversation.

x x x


	7. Making Friends

x x x

**Chapter 7: Making Friends**

x x x

Professor Lupin was still feeling a bit off-colour, even on his second day of classes. It was, perhaps, a very good idea then that he had first year students with no practical work to be seen, first thing this morning. But now he found himself watching one student in particular.

Jack Harkness had been severely affected by the Dementors, Remus had witnessed that with his own eyes... yet by the time of the Sorting he was cheerfully chatting with his friends, and then making new friends in Slytherin house. Harkness was currently sitting between his fellow Slytherins, Malcolm Radford and Zoe Alderton, diligently making notes on the chapter they had been instructed to read.

Hinkypunks... nasty little one-legged demons that lead travellers to their deaths in swamps. Something every wizarding child should have at least heard about, like Redcaps and Boggarts, but Remus had been shocked to find that even some seventh year students couldn't correctly identify them.

It was alright for the first years, but apparently his predecessors had failed to go into any detail on lesser dark creatures. Fifth years and above knew almost everything there was to know about vampires and zombies, seventh years had a brilliant training in counter-curses, but the second years may as well have been held back with this class for all the good Gilderoy Lockhart had done for them.

"How do they even breed?" Harkness asked his neighbours, in what he must assume was an undertone Remus wouldn't hear, "Seriously, you look at the illustration, it doesn't even give any hints..."

"Y'know, you're officially obsessed!" Radford snorted, trying not to laugh, "We spent our entire astronomy class last night listening to your theory that it could be possible for a human to crossbreed with a Dementor!"

"I'm sure someone's tried it by now." Harkness muttered, grinning, "I mean, look at our beloved head of house! The aura of despair he projects to Gryffindors is nearly tangible, he's gotta be at least half..."

Remus barely resisted the instinct to laugh at this jab against Severus Snape, while Alderton shook her head in revulsion and sighed, "Boys." in a despairing tone.

"Hey, I'm on your side, Zo'!" Radford protested, and they both proceeded to ignore Harkness, who shrugged and went back to taking notes.

When the lunch bell rang to signal the end of class, Harkness lingered, waiting for the others to leave... then approached Remus warily, "I have a question about the dark arts, Professor." he asked innocently.

"Yes, Mr Harkness?" Remus asked warily, still unsure what to make of this one. That a first year student- and a Slytherin at that- would dare to walk right up to their _defence _ teacher on the first day and ask outright about the Dark Arts... well, it was practically unheard of!

"I was hoping you could tell me something about spells that affect memories." Harkness asked bluntly, "Like... how to know if it's been used on someone, and how to reverse it."

Remus stared in some surprise at this, but answered automatically, "Well, there are a couple of different memory charms... detecting them is very difficult indeed, but I think I have... a book on the subject somewhere."

Remus turned and looked through a selection of books on a nearby shelf, quickly finding what he was looking for. When he turned back to face Harkness, he saw that the boy had tilted his head to idly read a piece of parchment on his desk. Remus quickly snatched it away, pocketing it and drawing Harkness' full attention once more.

Serves him right for leaving incriminating evidence sitting out on his desk, Remus thought. Severus shouldn't have sent the note up here with Lucy Rosier, in the first place.

He held out the book, now, showing it to Harkness, "This is a fairly complicated text on the subject, I'm not sure if you'll be able to follow it." he said rather quickly, "But it does have to do with the detection of malicious memory charms. Might I ask why you want to know about this?"

"If I remembered, I'd not be asking." Harkness said with a cocky grin.

Remus shook his head at that, "It doesn't have anything to do with the Dementors, I hope?"

He saw the odd way Harkness froze at the mention of the subject, before the boy quickly recovered his composure and shook his head, "No, sir." he said tensely.

"Might I ask what the Dementors did show you?" Remus asked warily, and the cold stare Harkness gave him in return for that seemed intended as a deterrent from the question, "It is most unusual for one so young to have the kind of suffering in their past that could cause that reaction."

"According to rumour, Harry Potter fainted." Harkness said sharply.

"Yes, and it is also common knowledge that Harry Potter was the only witness to his parents' murder at the hands of Lord Voldemort." Remus retorted pointedly.

Harkness seemed to consider this with more interest than Remus had expected, almost as if it was new information to him, before answering too-calmly, "With all due respect, what I saw is none of your business, Professor."

Remus frowned at the boy, but then offered the book for him to take. Harkness eyed said book sceptically for a moment, clearly expecting some form of reprimand to that impudent remark. When none was made, however, he took the book and glanced up at Remus curiously.

"Let me know if that book is of any use to you." he said with forced calm.

Harkness frowned, but then nodded shortly, "Thank you, Professor."

Remus watched him leave the classroom, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind the boy, he sat down at his desk, pulling parchment and a quill towards him, and set about writing a letter.

x x x

On their first weekend at Hogwarts- the first real free time they had, between classes and research- the team met up in the school library to compare notes. They had found a table out of the way, abiding by a rumour Ianto had heard that sitting near the Invisibility section of the library made you less susceptible to being spied on.

"Y'know, guys... I kinda like it here." Owen said, joining the others, and dumping his heavy schoolbag next to his chair as he sat down.

"Says the one who was offended at the very thought of going back to school." Ianto observed idly, only glancing up from his copy of '_Hogwarts: A History_' to grin infuriatingly at the glower Owen shot his way.

Owen threw a pen at Ianto, but only hit the back of the book instead of his target.

Everyone in the bloody school used quills and inkpots, but Ianto had insisted on bringing a bunch of ordinary pens for the team. It earned them odd looks from the teachers and other students, but it also made life much easier.

Jack and Ianto, both being relatively old-fashioned in such matters, used fountain pens- and Jack had a tendency to steal Ianto's pens, when he needed, or just wanted, a different coloured ink. The others had regular ballpoints, and had already been asked on several occasions, by students from non-magical families, for the loan of said pens.

"Yeah, well at least they're not making me re-take English lit." Owen muttered, grinning, "Seriously, though. Think about it. This is like a holiday, for us. No alien invasion, no mortal peril. Just the chance to learn about a whole load of weird new things."

Tosh nodded eagerly, "It is fascinating. I've been reading up on Arithmancy, the correlations of seemingly randomised numbers in relation to supernatural events. It could help me work out better calculations for rift-predictions, when we get back home."

"And when will that be?" Gwen asked, frowning, "Should we allow ourselves to get settled in, or will we leave in a week or two? I mean, I'd really like to make friends with the girls in Gryffindor... they're kinda nice. But then I really want to go home, too..." the way she trailed off made it clear she was already missing Rhys quite a bit.

"It would be useful to have friends in this world." Jack pointed out, "There's things these people can do that we've only dreamed of, before. Even if we don't stay long, getting to know them can't be a bad thing."

"We should be prepared for both." Ianto said, shrugging, "Pick only one to plan for, the other is bound to happen. Sod's law."

Jack nodded in agreement, "So then we make the most of it while we're here."

x x x

Within the first two weeks, every member of the Torchwood team succeeded in finding the Great Hall unassisted. This wasn't unusual, most of the other first years had got the hang of it by then, as well. By this time, everyone seemed to have settled into the routine of secondary education.

"I've figured this out, guys." Tosh informed them, sitting down opposite Jack and Ianto at the Hufflepuff table, one afternoon. There were plenty of free seats around them, as it seemed Ianto was the only member of Hufflepuff house who wanted to be anywhere near a Slytherin if they were given a choice in the matter.

She dropped a book in front of her, letting it hit the table with a resounding and attention-grabbing thump. The book was '_Why Your Muggle Gadgets Don't Work In Magical Places_'. She turned to a page near the middle and only glanced up briefly as Gwen and Owen joined them as well.

"Why we're here?" Owen asked.

"Forty two." Jack said idly, and Ianto snorted. The others stared blankly, and Jack looked at them in surprise, "Nobody else reads Douglas Adams? Seriously?"

"I got it." Ianto muttered, grinning.

"You know everything." Owen sniped dismissively.

"The incantation is Silencio. I am working on it." Ianto said, pointing his wand threateningly in Owen's direction, and smirking faintly. No one had seen him draw the weapon, but it was definitely aimed at Owen's face now. His point made, Ianto put the wand away again and turned to ask, "What'd you find, Tosh?"

"Electronic items don't work in the energy fields projected by magic, because they're opposing forces." Tosh explained brightly, "Magic negates electrical current above a certain level... but the minor electrical impulses within the human body aren't affected, because they're too small. Too low a frequency, compared to things like computers."

More students were listening, now. A small cluster of Ravenclaws formed almost as soon as they realised it was a technical discussion. Others lurked not far away, as well, also wanting to find out what was going on.

"So?" Gwen asked, not getting how this was helpful.

"So, smaller electrical signals will still get through, like the kind of tech we had at the Hub that run off your own personal electrical field." Tosh explained gleefully.

"Like my wrist strap." Jack offered, grinning.

"We are _not_ calling John just to prove we can, Jack." Gwen complained.

"It's not just for communication, Gwen." Jack protested, "It tells the time, too!"

"But Jack, don't you see? These magical fields are an energy source on their own. It's just a matter of identifying and attuning the technology to the correct frequencies, and then..." her eyes lit up, "Oh, I could make my laptop work here, I just know I could!"

"If you still had it, Tosh." Owen reminded morosely.

"So I'll get a new one." Tosh defended.

"But it's impossible!" a Gryffindor girl- one of Harry Potter's friends- protested, "People have been trying to get Muggle technology to work in a magical environment since the invention of electricity!"

Jack grinned at her, "There's no such thing as 'impossible', Miss-?"

"Uh, I'm Hermione Granger." she introduced herself, before giving Tosh a wary look, "There's no way you could possibly make a computer work here."

Tosh turned directly to her, now, "And I suppose there was no way to make a radio, gramophone or electric guitar work here, either... until someone really wanted one."

"They've got electric guitars in the magical world and no one told me?" Owen asked, laughing. He had precisely zero interest in playing guitar, but as with the obscene jokes it seemed he felt _someone_ needed to say it.

Tosh grinned, "Some of the more recent wizard-bands figured it out only a few years ago. Instead of using electric speakers to enhance the sound and quality, they integrated a Sonorus spell in place of the electronic pickups." she said brightly, tapping her book to emphasise her source of information, "And radio was accommodated very soon after its invention, too, using wind-up sets and magical signals instead of the usual radio waves."

"Guess the magical world really likes its music." Jack said brightly, laughing. Hermione Granger seemed to be having trouble deciding between keeping a straight face, outrage at being proved wrong, or finding it funny as well. The expression was priceless.

"Just wait until they get a load of the Internet and MP3 downloads, then!" Gwen laughed, and a fair few of the Ravenclaws around them giggled or snickered as well.

This seemed to catch Hermione's attention, "The... Internet?" she asked hopefully. Tosh nodded cheerfully. "Um... would you... uh, mind if I tried to help? I'd love to be a part of this if it works."

Several other Ravenclaws echoed this sentiment, and Tosh grinned eagerly, "Sure, anyone who wants to help is welcome to."

"I can arrange a study group for it, up in the Ravenclaw common room." Lilah Wildsmith offered, "Anyone else is welcome as well." she added, glancing at Hermione and a few other students who seemed curious. Murmurs of assent rippled through the gathered group, and it didn't take long for a piece of parchment to start being passed around for people to sign up for this extra-curricular activity.

Tosh, meanwhile, turned to Jack, "Jack, could you get... uh, your dad to send us a laptop, your wrist strap, and my tools... including that CD player?"

Jack wrinkled his nose at the cover-story, but nodded, "Sure, no problem."

x x x

The very next day, a note had been posted in each of their common rooms announcing flying lessons that Friday. Naturally, the day before they were to have these lessons, every single first year was incredibly over-excited at the prospect of learning to ride a broomstick.

Even the ones who claimed to already know how.

"So then I spun around to the left and into a dive, the Keeper didn't know what hit him!" Malcolm Radford was telling the other Slytherin first-years, augmenting his monologue with wild gestures to compliment the moves he was describing.

Malcolm, and his friend Zoe Alderton, had quite quickly become friends with Jack... although Malcolm had made it an ultimatum, that they would remain friends only so long as Jack refrained from bringing up the subject of cross-breeding magical creatures. Especially Dementors.

So far, in spite of that running joke being the cleanest version of his usual favourite subject, he had managed to behave himself for the sake of friendship.

"There's always one, in every new class." Marcus Flint sniped, walking past and rather violently smacking Malcolm upside the head, "Make the team next year or I assure you Montague and Bletchley will beat the living snot out of you in my absence."

"Assuming you actually pass your NEWTs this year, Flint!" Draco Malfoy jeered across the table, earning a spiteful glare from Flint and laughter from the first years.

Jack looked over at Draco, and frowned, "What happened to your arm?" he asked, noticing the sling the other boy wore, "Hit a desk pretending to faint?"

Draco glowered at him, "I was mauled by a giant chicken." he sniped darkly, "That great oaf they appointed to teach Care of Magical Creatures is incompetent!"

"Giant chicken?" Jack asked, laughing... before he suddenly realised, "Oh my god, you're not joking." but that didn't stop him laughing.

"It's not funny, Harkness!" Draco snapped darkly.

"Neither's fainting on the train, but you milked that for all it was worth." Jack retorted sharply, grinning in spite of what he was talking about.

Draco scowled, looking highly offended by this argument... but then he jumped as someone jabbed his- apparently injured- arm sharply. He didn't yelp in pain, or even flinch... he was just taken by surprise.

"Yeah, that's real alright." Owen muttered sarcastically, leaning over the table to Jack, "Where's my coffee?" he demanded.

"How should I know?" Jack defended, "Go find Ianto."

"Can't. Tried." Owen shrugged, looking so sulky and drowsy that it made zombies in the movies seem lively in comparison.

"What the hell is _that_ doing at our table?" a second-year Slytherin demanded, pointing at Owen and sneering in disgust.

Jack turned to glower at the boy, but then Draco grabbed Owen's tie and pulled him down so his head almost hit the table. Jack noticed that he'd grabbed Owen with his supposedly injured arm. "You tell anyone about this-" another tug on the tie, to clarify that he was talking about his arm, "-you'll find yourself hanging from the goalposts in your underwear, Gryffindor!"

Jack snorted with laughter, "Entertaining though that thought may be..." he said idly, "I'm sure Owen has better things to do than talk about your hypochondria."

Draco frowned, "What?"

"Technically the wrong term, Jack..." Owen mumbled into the table, "It means fear that a minor illness may lead to something serious... like if you genuinely believed that scratch would make your arm fall off. This is just melodramatics."

Draco pulled once more on Owen's tie, causing him to hit his head on the table, before letting him go, "You tell anyone..." he said warningly.

"Who'm I gonna tell, huh?" Owen complained, rubbing his head slightly, before pointing out, "Your classmates in my house already know you're faking it, and you've got the teachers convinced enough that my fully-qualified and professional medical opinion wouldn't mean squat." he turned to Jack now, "Kid's a real charmer. You honestly making friends with him?"

"More like _not_ making enemies, Owen." Jack said idly, grinning as the young doctor continued to rub at his head, "Speaking of hypochondria...?"

"I'm fine." Owen dismissed idly, sitting right next to Draco, in spite of the vicious glares he received all around, "You're doing a good job of faking that, by the way... but if someone jabs you like that again you have to squeal like a piglet or they'll see right through it. Bit of a twitch in the fingers would be a good thing, too, if you want them to think 'non-permanent nerve-damage'."

He snatched an unused glass and filled it with pumpkin juice, continuing to ignore the Slytherins around him.

"Owen Harper, giving medical advice on how to _fake_ an injury?" Jack snorted, grinning.

"Coffee... absent." Owen muttered, "Not really thinking too much right now." he downed the glass of juice in one go, "'Sides, you said make friends."

Malcolm blinked several times, "This is him trying to make friends?" he demanded, stunned.

"He's more eloquent when caffeinated." Jack said bluntly, "Also, more comprehensive vocabulary."

Owen levelled a cold stare at him, and said bluntly, "Jack, think about it... coffee is missing... ergo, Ianto is missing."

This was a serious problem.

x x x

Jack skipped his history class that morning to go looking for the Hufflepuff common room, instead.

It took him a while, but he knew it was down in the lower part of the castle and while the dungeons did seem to go on forever, the rest of the lower corridors were actually finite. In theory... maybe. He'd passed those same two painting twice, looking for it, and so now he stopped between them. On opposite walls, two still-life paintings, as opposed to the animated portraits more common in the castle.

Suddenly quite certain that he was in the right place, he looked from one painting to the other, trying to think of a password that might have been used. Considering how little he knew of the magical world, it really could be anything, and he'd probably never guess.

Just as he was ready to give up and return to the great hall to make it in time for lunch, the painting of a squat little cottage moved aside and Ianto hurried out, not looking where he was going. Jack just stepped out of his way in time to avoid getting knocked over.

"What were you up to in there?" Jack asked, falling into step with him easily.

"I lost my Potions homework." Ianto said, irritably, "And one of Tosh's computer-club friends assures me Nargles ate it, which really doesn't help me. I mean, I can't tell Snape _that!_" after a brief pause for thought, he added, "Actually, I think Albert Cadwallader may have stolen it..."

"One of your roommates?" Jack asked, and when Ianto nodded he sighed, "The fact I don't often sleep is probably a good thing, because I'm sure Mark Avery will try to kill me if I do."

Ianto snorted, with near-hysterical failed laughter, "What do I do, Jack? I've never failed in any academics before. I need this by this afternoon."

"Copy off Owen?" Jack suggested with a shrug, earning a spiteful glare for it as they crossed the main entrance hall, and he led Ianto up towards the library, "Why'd you skip class this morning for it?"

"It's not my fault I missed Herbology... much as I sorely regret the lost opportunity to get mud on my uniform again-" he observed sarcastically, before exclaiming defensively, "-but I can't be in two places at once!"

"Well, technically, Ianto..." Jack said vaguely, with a bemused grin. His tone was just suggestive enough to imply the fact that Ianto really _was_ in two places at once right now.

He idly wondered what school Ianto had gone to instead of Hogwarts, at this age. Out of the five of them, Ianto was the only one who had returned to his true age for this time, when they had been brought here.

They had been halfway up one of the higher staircases, about to pass a group of Gryffindor girls, when one stumbled and fell down towards them. Jack caught her, holding onto the handrail as he did so, to keep his own balance... then he got a look at her face, "Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked in one of his less flirtatious but still charming tones.

"Oh, um... yes." Hermione quickly scrambled to her own feet and took a step back, "Thanks." she glanced balefully at the foot of the staircase. "Oh no, it's moved again." she complained as her classmates walked on down without even sparing a glance back for her.

"Where were you headed?" Jack asked her.

"Oh, the Great Hall." Hermione answered with a frown, glancing at both of them with a vague sort of curiosity, "I suppose I can still make it in time for lunch, if I... hurry." she muttered, idly fidgeting with a gold chain around her neck, and watching the staircase to see if it would be kind enough to come back for her. It didn't appear inclined to do so.

Jack thought about it for a moment, tilting his head slightly to one side, "If you're sure...? I think I know a shortcut, though."

She gave him a sceptical look, clearly wary of trusting him. Ianto was also looking impatient, "Come on, Jack. I need to find Owen, the library... or possibly some form of time travel device, before Potions this afternoon!" he made the last part sound like a joke- although if Jack could get his hands on such technology he'd happily use it to help Ianto out.

Jack blandly pretended to ignore Ianto's words, while Hermione stared at them both sceptically, "If you just go back up there, and follow the back stairs to the left... it'll come out in the upper dungeon level right next to the entrance hall." he explained quickly.

"Since when do first years give directions to the older students?" she asked, laughing distractedly, and shaking her head, "I'll believe you because you said it went through the dungeons."

Jack watched her go, and Ianto tugged on his sleeve, "Library, now!" and as Jack obeyed, Ianto asked him, "How'd you know about that shortcut, anyway?"

"I think the castle likes me..." he answered vaguely. At the odd look he got for that, he elaborated, "Sentient space ships- or in this case buildings- can be very tricky and temperamental if you don't know how to be nice to them... but I learned how to behave properly around one, travelling with the Doctor. His TARDIS is the most pernickety female I've ever known... and you've never met my old Torchwood boss, Carol, so you cannot possibly comprehend the full impact of that statement."

Ianto continued to stare at him for several seconds, before shaking his head, "You never cease to amaze and confuse me." then he grinned and added too brightly, "Mostly confuse."

Then it clicked in his mind, and he froze for half a second, before stumbling to catch up with Jack.

"Wait a second, you're telling me Hogwarts Castle is _sentient?_"

x x x


	8. I Believe I Can Fly

x x x

**Chapter 8: I Believe I Can Fly**

x x x

It was the morning of the much anticipated flying lessons when a fleet of five owls, led by Aderyn, swept down upon the Ravenclaw table carrying a large box between them, "It's _here!_" Tosh cried out eagerly.

Everyone turned to stare.

"_YES!_" Jack cheered, quickly leaping up from his seat and the Slytherin table. He and Ianto were both at Tosh's side in an instant, to help her unwrap the package the owls had delivered.

Most of Ravenclaw house gathered around as well, eagerly peering to see what Tosh had got. The box contained an old laptop in its original packaging- well, old by their standards, it was brand new in this year- a Torchwood-labelled set of tools for working on tech in general... and Jack's wrist strap, which he had left at his old apartment when Ianto had told him magic was supposed to ruin all technology it got into.

"I missed you my love!" Jack cheered, snatching the wrist strap and putting it on, tightening it significantly further than he was used to, so that it fit on his wrist now, "Never let you go again, my Precious!" he joked, petting the wrist strap and earning a round of bemused snickering from a few students.

Ianto rolled his eyes, "That's just pathetic, Jack." he laughed, "I'm sure Sauron and Gollum will show up at any minute to demand retribution for copyright infringements, and all."

"What is that?" Roger Davies asked.

"Muggle toy." Jack said dismissively.

"When Jack Harkness says '_toy_'..." Owen put in innocently, from somewhere beyond the crowd of Ravenclaws.

Ianto sighed, "I will learn that silencing spell, Owen!" he called out clearly, not bothering to look for him through the crowd.

Jack, however, was frowning now, "There's a message..." he whispered to Ianto, eyeing the wrist strap warily. He looked up to see that both Ianto and Tosh had heard him, and they now nodded. Tosh gathered up her toolkit, and looked around at the other Ravenclaws, "Could you guys help me take this up to the tower?" she asked hopefully.

While she was distracting the crowd, Jack and Ianto slipped off unnoticed, into an empty classroom, and as soon as they were certain that they were alone Jack pressed the play button on his wrist strap.

"Okay, you probably haven't got the owls by the time I sent this..." Jack's own voice- his past-self- said, as the hologram flickered to life before them, "But I just got a letter from Hogwarts. A Professor R. J. Lupin. I know I'm not good with authority figures, but this is ridiculous! Two days and the teacher's asking quite frankly weird questions."

"It could have been worse..." Ianto muttered.

"It could have been John." Jack agreed.

"'Dear Mr Harkness'- you need to correct them on this, I'll only answer to Captain in future-"

"Anyone tell you you used to be insufferably arrogant?" Ianto asked too innocently.

"I still am." Jack answered, smirking.

"'I am writing to inform you that your son'- have I mentioned that cover story is creepy? Seriously, it bothers me-"

"Why?" Ianto asked, curiously.

"Because I'd not be averse to taking the phrase 'go fuck yourself' literally, maybe." Jack answered idly, pretending not to notice the way Ianto pulled a face at that.

"'-inform you that your son suffered a serious reaction to the presence of a Dementor.' Blah blah blah, tells me what a Dementor is, I assume you already know that- and I don't like them, by the way- then it asks me if anything may have happened to you that could have caused such a traumatic memory." the hologram snorted, "Does he expect a full list? Or should I just deny everything?"

Jack rolled his eyes as the holo-message flickered off, and he pressed the button to call back to the original sender.

"Hello?" Jack's past-self appeared on the hologram once more, "Oh... right." he stared at Jack, "Well, you got my message, then?"

"Deny everything." Jack said, grinning, "Except... um..." he glanced at Ianto for a second, "Tell him I was kidnapped once... tortured and saw my best friend murdered."

"Oh... that. I was trying to repress that." the hologram complained, shuddering slightly, "You want me to make it contemporary, I'm assuming?"

"Of course... real names... but give the guilty party a human face."

"Anyone in particular?" the hologram asked.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Um... make him look like our ex-partner. It's not ideal, but we need to get our stories perfectly straight."

"Gotcha." the hologram nodded, "God, which variation of him should I use? He always was good at blending in when he tried... I especially liked when he wore that Roman Imperial uniform..."

Jack snorted, "Let's go with the one and only time he ever wore a suit."

The hologram grinned slowly, "Oh yeah... wasn't that to a murder trial? It did look good on him..."

"Jack..." Jack warned the hologram darkly.

"What?" his past-self protested in all false innocence, "I was just thinking..."

"Try not to." Jack laughed, shaking his head, "But please do write back to that teacher... he could be a nuisance if he thinks we're hiding something."

"What could he possibly think we're hiding?" the hologram asked, "Besides the fact you're a time-travelling immortal who probably shouldn't be allowed near children..."

"Just because you don't know how to behave in civilised company right now, doesn't mean I can't." Jack sniped at his past self, grinning even as he said this, "But if we don't give him some acceptable story, what sort of traumatic memories do _you_ think he might guess at? Especially given your last statement."

The hologram stared for all of two seconds, then blinked, "You don't think this guy- I mean, his writing makes him sound really meek and proper and, well, decent- you don't think he'd seriously jump to the conclusion that... I would have hurt you?"

"That's exactly what I think." Jack said darkly, "So write to him with that story, yeah?"

The hologram nodded slowly, frowning now, "Sure, I will." but then he dropped the dour mood rather sharply, "You guys having fun there? Tosh sounded like she was enjoying herself."

"Yeah, so far it's been pretty good, except for the Dementors." Jack said, brightening up significantly.

"What _did_ they make you remember?" the hologram asked.

"It hasn't happened yet." Jack answered with a frown, before taking a deep breath and dismissing the entire conversation, "I'll call again later." and with that he turned off the wrist strap.

"You were kidnapped and tortured?" Ianto asked softly, stunned by this revelation.

"Yeah... I ran headlong into danger and was stupid enough to lead a friend with me." Jack said quietly, "I was fifteen at the time... they weren't human, but I... like my past self said, I try to repress it." he looked up to meet Ianto's concerned gaze, and shook his head, "It's alright now, I'm over it. Honestly."

x x x

The flying lesson for Gryffindor and Slytherin was outside in the courtyard. It was a cold day, with a chill on the wind that ripped right through even their warmest clothes. Still, no one was put out enough by it to want to miss this.

Jack Harkness had flown spaceships of every variety he'd been able to get his hands on in his home time, fighter planes in World War II, and once on a mission with the Agency he had landed a jumbo jet after the pilot had been murdered. Since his first death, he had tried everything from bungee jumping and parachuting... to leaping off bridges and buildings- and even out of a plane once- without anything to break his fall, just to try to get a cheap thrill out of it.

None of these things had prepared him for learning to fly a broomstick.

First of all you had to convince the thing that it should let you ride it. You needed the magic and the will to command it to fly into your hand, simply by standing next to it, holding your hand over it and saying "Up."

The first time he tried it, the broomstick he had chosen rolled over and didn't show any inclination to leave the ground at all.

Owen's didn't move at all, but that didn't stop the underage medic from doubling over, almost literally rolling on the grass laughing at Jack, "Expected better from you! It just rolled over and went to sleep!" he cackled.

Jack kicked him in the ribs when the teacher wasn't looking, and tried again, this time using his best, 'you know you love me now do what I tell you' tone, "Up." The broomstick responded immediately, and Jack grinned smugly as Owen failed twice more to get any reaction whatsoever from his own broomstick.

Gwen got hers to work after a few more tries, when she started to use her 'I'm getting pissed off and I own a gun' voice.

Owen continued to fail until he started swearing at it. The teacher- a strict woman named Madam Hooch, with short grey hair and creepy catlike eyes- wasn't pleased, "Mr Harper, kindly watch your language! Two points from Gryffindor!"

"But it wasn't working before I called it a-!" Owen protested, but was interrupted by the teacher.

"_Five_ points from Gryffindor, Mr Harper!" the teacher said coldly, before scanning the rest of the students. Everyone else had succeeded in this stage of the lesson, long before Owen... and several Slytherins were snickering at Owen's predicament.

The teacher then spent the next ten minutes explaining how to properly mount a broomstick. In spite of her choice of words, no one laughed, not even Owen. He was determined not to lose any more points or make any more of an ass of himself than he had done already. Jack found the entire thing quite completely hilarious, but for the most part managed to keep a straight face as the teacher talked about grip and position.

Finally, it seemed that everyone was ready to actually try to take off. "Alright, everyone!" she called to get the attention of some of the Gryffindor boys who had been avidly ignoring her while she'd been correcting Gwen and Avery on their posture, "When I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, now. Three, two, one." the whistle blew and everyone tried to push off from the ground.

It's an odd sensation to feel the ground fall away from your feet with no evident logical means of support. Jack instinctively gripped a little tighter, and wavered in the air slightly before finding his balance.

Gwen yelped and fell over onto the ground, from less than a foot into the air. Owen nearly followed suit, but just managed to hold on by flattening himself to the broomstick and clinging on for dear life. Elaine Gibbon seemed equally unable to keep her balance, but had a better grip than Gwen, rolling over and hovering upside down with her head about two feet from the grass.

Deciding not to push his luck and go higher, Jack leaned forward and by putting weight on his hands the broom took the instruction to fly downwards... a bit faster than he'd expected. He only just caught it in time to land on his feet, instead of a nosedive that might have broken the broomstick... or his face.

Only one student didn't seem to be having any trouble at all. Demelza Robins was a natural, like a bird. Even Mark Avery, who claimed to have been flying since he was five, didn't seem to be doing too well with the school brooms... although he wasn't any worse than Jack.

It took half an hour for them to be allowed to try simple turns, and even when given permission, Owen refused to go more then four feet off the ground. Jack stayed close to the ground too... but only to literally fly circles around Owen.

Gwen was still mastering the art of flying in a straight line while Jack had started trying to figure out how to do a loop-the-loop, every time the teacher turned her back to yell at Demelza and Avery, who had started getting competitive, each deciding they could and would fly higher than the other.

By the end of the lesson, both houses had lost twelve points, even. Avery had won the aerial contest, only because Demelza hadn't wanted to lose any more points... thus making up for Owen's earlier behaviour... relatively speaking.

It really had been the most fun Jack had had since they'd arrived at Hogwarts.

x x x

As they walked back up to the castle, Gwen and Owen chatted brightly about Tosh's project and how useful it could be to them, while Jack's mind wandered. It wandered very specifically in the direction of Ianto Jones, who had just passed them on his way out of the great hall. Jack left the other two, and followed him.

He succeeded in cornering Ianto in a deserted hallway leading down to the dungeons and kitchens. "Hey, handsome." Jack murmured behind him, causing him to jump with surprise, and drop the books he had been carrying.

"Jack! You, uh... startled me." Ianto said quickly. He turned to pick up his books, but Jack caught him and pushed him back against the wall, leaning against him, kissing his neck.

To hell with the fact he looked like a child, Jack Harkness was not used to, nor did he enjoy, being deprived of intimate physical contact for any length of time... and he hadn't had anything of the sort since they had woken up as children. For Jack, that was a very long time to go without.

But then Ianto's hands were on his shoulders, pushing him away, and he reluctantly backed off a bit, "You cannot be serious, Jack." he said, very defensively, "I look like I'm twelve... at best!"

"So?" Jack asked blankly, not seeing the problem here, "I know you're not."

"We're in the middle of a corridor... anyone could walk by at any moment." Ianto protested.

Jack glanced along the corridor, "Good point." he conceded.

"Don't you dare suggest we go somewhere more private, Jack!" Ianto snapped, "Even if you can ignore the fact I look like a child, I can't ignore what _you_ look like right now."

But even as he spoke, Jack was picking up the books from the floor and then taking Ianto's hand... Ianto hated how easily he succumbed to Jack's will, and followed him. There was some silent allure about him that Ianto just couldn't resist... and before he knew it, they were alone in a dungeon classroom two corridors away from the Potions labs.

"Jack..." Ianto said, trying to sound warning but ending up sounding almost afraid.

Jack sighed, setting the books down on a desk in front of Ianto, and then leaning across said desk to face him, "I need you, Ianto."

Ianto's brow furrowed slightly at these words, but he didn't respond, warily picking up the books and holding them against his chest defensively.

"I'm not asking you to fuck me, god that would be weird..." Jack hesitated with a slight frown, before laughing, "If we stay like this, I won't even hit puberty for another year or so." he shook his head, "No... I just need to be near you."

"I... don't understand." Ianto said, no longer wary, setting the books back down again and watching as Jack circled the desk to stand right in front of him.

"Your scent..." he shivered slightly as Jack leaned closer to his neck and inhaled noticeably, "Your touch..." a hand ran lightly down the side of Ianto's face, "The taste of your skin..." Jack kissed his neck lightly, and he shivered. It felt good... Jack always felt right to him. He felt Jack's lips curl into a smile against his neck before he heard the words, "Completely innocent, honest."

That made Ianto laugh weakly, "Yes, innocent." he said sarcastically.

Jack grinned, leaning back against the desk and looking up to meet Ianto's eyes now, "You don't like this idea? I promise I'll stay above the belt."

"It's still a terrible idea!" Ianto laughed, "But I do like it."

"Why is it terrible?" Jack asked, sounding upset, and mock-pouting at him. It looked cute in the genuinely innocent way that made Ianto feel like a truly terrible person for actually liking his suggestion.

"Because we're bound to get caught..." Ianto admitted, "And because it makes me feel like we need to go find Owen so he can resurrect the paedophile joke."

Jack smirked, "But you still want me."

Ianto shuddered slightly, absolutely certain that Jack was perfectly capable of projecting lust, desire, or possibly some kind of intoxicating pheromones at will... he only fought very briefly with his conscience, before stepping forward and kissing Jack, himself... very lightly, on the lips.

Jack's hand ran up the side of his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer...

But then all of a sudden they were both drenched in icy cold water, causing them to jump apart in shock. Jack fell back against the desk, while Ianto stumbled into a nearby chair, tripped over said chair and landed on the ground on his backside.

Gleefully malicious cackling echoed through the room, and Peeves the poltergeist lobbed another water balloon at them before zooming out through an air-vent and away. The laughter echoed through the room for a few seconds, before Ianto finally shook his head like a dog that'd been swimming, throwing cold water out of his hair in all directions.

"I'm going to kill him." Ianto hissed, staring at the air-vent, "I don't care if he's already dead... I'll still kill him."

Jack laughed, pushing his wet hair back out of his face with one hand, "We should count ourselves lucky, I don't think he cares what we were doing before he got us."

Ianto glanced at Jack, "Revenge?"

"Oh yes."

Now, unlike the vague rumours they had heard about Gryffindor vengeance, which usually involved fighting fire with fire when it came to Peeves, Jack and Ianto worked in more methodical ways. After rushing to the great hall and begging the first teacher they saw- which happened to be Professor Lupin- to cast a drying charm on their schoolbooks before they were ruined, they then set about finding a way to deal with the poltergeist.

x x x

Ianto remembered his first day, when Mr Flich had expressed great dislike for the poltergeist, and set about attempting to make an alliance with the man. He was shocked to discover that it took him several days to find out the location of the man's office. No one knew where it was, or perhaps they simply didn't want to tell him. It seemed that no one believed any sane being would actively seek out Mr Filch.

Eventually, however, he got the information out of a thoroughly confused Cedric Diggory, and made his way to that location. Parchment on the door showed a long list of items forbidden within the castle grounds, and another sign half-hidden by this list did identify the room as the office of a Mr Argus Filch.

Ianto read the list for a moment, noticing some magical variations on the classics, like '_dungbombs_' and '_batty boomerangs_', before cautiously rapping on the door.

It was wrenched open suddenly, and the incredibly angry-looking visage of Mr Filch loomed over him, "What d'you want?" he demanded.

"I was told I could get a list of school rules from your office, sir?" Ianto asked innocently. This was true, Diggory had told him this.

Filch's eyes narrowed at this request, "What d'you lot care about rules, anyway?"

Ianto hesitated for half a second in the face of this man's pure malice, but then quickly answered, "I like rules, sir. And I'm sure if I had the list I could keep some of my friends in line as well." he honestly meant this, thinking specifically of Owen as he said that last part. Filch eyed him suspiciously for a few moments, then beckoned him into the office.

Ianto warily followed, and found himself surrounded by ranks of filing cabinets, some stuffed to overflowing with folders... especially the one on the far right.

While most of the others were labelled with letters, '_A-Bi_', '_Bl-Ca_', '_Ce-Da_', etc... of the four drawers of this cabinet, two were marked as '_Weasley, Fred_' and two '_Weasley, George_'. He also noticed three other drawers with individual names '_Black, Sirius_', '_Jones, Gwenog_' and '_Potter, James_', but neither one was as bad as the '_Weasley_' section, which was literally overflowing an entire filing cabinet unto itself.

Every instinct Ianto had told him this place needed to be re-filed and re-organised, but he didn't dare comment. He also decided it was probably in his best interests not to tell Filch his last name... given the fact that his cousin's name- second cousin twice removed- was on one of those drawers, and he got the distinct feeling they weren't full of awards for good behaviour.

While Filch rooted through a drawer at his desk, Ianto felt something nudge his leg, and looked down to see Filch's cat, tail aloft, rubbing her head against his shin. He stared at her for a moment and she jumped up onto the desk, sitting as close to her master as possible, and purring.

Filch pulled out a roll of parchment from the drawer, and shoved it roughly in Ianto's direction, "School rules, banned products, list of punishments for misbehaviour, all here." he announced, sounding especially proud of that last part.

"Thank you, sir." Ianto said, taking the parchment.

Filch eyed him with even more suspicion, now, "You were one of them boys that Peeves got with erasers, first day?"

"Well, sort of, sir. He didn't actually hit me with them." Ianto said nervously, "Can't say he made any friends with that stunt, though."

"Well don't you be goin' trying to fight back like those Weasley boys, y'hear?" Filch ordered.

"Of course not, sir." Ianto said, glancing warily at the filing cabinet bearing that name.

"Yeah, those two're trouble-makers alright." Filch said darkly, following Ianto's gaze.

"Is there anything I can do to help against Peeves, sir?" Ianto asked cautiously, "Without breaking the rules, of course."

"You lookin' to snitch?" Filch asked, some hint of genuine hope filtering past his hateful glower.

"Well, I wouldn't want to get in any trouble." Ianto said, daring to smile faintly. "But he's certainly made an enemy of me."

Filch grinned, a sort of toothy grin, "You see that miscreant up to anything, you let me know about it, yeah?"

Ianto nodded, "Yeah."

x x x


	9. Of Portraits and Thieves

x x x

**Chapter 9: Of Portraits and Thieves**

x x x

Jack had heard some of the Slytherin prefects talking about a ghost named the Baron- often referred to as the Bloody Baron- who apparently could control Peeves. He had been warned off trying to speak to this ghost, but the only reasons anyone could come up with were the likes of 'he's creepy' 'doesn't talk to anyone' and oddly enough from Marcus Flint 'he's kinda scary'.

Jack didn't really care that much for other people's unfounded assumptions, and when he found the Baron skulking in the dungeon corridors, he approached the ghost warily, "Excuse me, Your Lordship." he said hopefully.

The Baron turned to face him, surprise visible on his distantly morose face... as if he really wasn't used to anyone using the correct form of address, if they even spoke to him at all. The surprise on his face quickly turned to a questioning and eerily intense stare. It might scare off most people, especially students, but Jack Harkness was not most people.

Now that he was facing the Baron he saw the reason for his alternate title. Ghostly bloodstains on the front of his clothes, as if he had been stabbed in the heart. And down his sleeves as well, in a pattern that indicated he might either have attacked someone else before he was slain, or possibly even committed suicide... it was difficult to tell which.

Perhaps what made him the most eerie, in Jack's mind, was that he had clearly been handsome in life... but the dark shadows under his eyes now, the truly dour look on his face, and most particularly the blood on his clothes did make him quite an imposing presence.

"I've heard rumours that Peeves the poltergeist answers to you?" Jack asked.

The Baron's eyes flashed with a dark kind of dislike, and Jack hesitated... but then the ghost nodded slowly in answer. Jack was beginning to get the feeling that all the advice he'd been given against speaking to this ghost was accurate, especially the part about the Baron not speaking.

"Is it true that you sometimes call him off from members of your own house?"

A slow nod was all the answer he got for this... but then a cold smile crossed the Baron's face, as if the ghost had just thought of something particularly unpleasant.

"But... not for free?" Jack asked, guessing the meaning of that dark smile.

The Baron nodded once more, still slowly, as if now that he was dead he had no reason to worry about wasting time... especially that of others.

"Do we have to play twenty questions, or can you just tell me what you want?" Jack asked, smiling faintly.

The Baron raised an eyebrow in distant curiosity, "Twenty questions?" he asked, just as slowly. His voice was low, and hoarse as if from disuse, but the accent was refined and proper English.

"Um... might be a Muggle thing." Jack said warily, "Basically involves asking questions until you guess what the other person's thinking, but to make the game a challenge instead of deadly boring, it's limited to only twenty questions."

The Baron blinked slowly, considering this novel concept, "I do doubt you would guess my intended request so easily." he said simply.

Jack tilted his head slightly to one side, "What would you ask of me, then, My Lord?"

"Such formality from one so young..." he said distantly, "You must understand that I have been here for close to one thousand years, and trust is by far the rarest of commodities to me."

Jack frowned slightly, "You want me to earn your trust?"

A mirthless laugh that sounded quite like a bark was the Baron's answer to that, "To begin with, yes." he levelled a cold and piercing gaze on Jack now, "I shall make three requests of you, during your time here at Hogwarts. In return I shall ensure that the wretched poltergeist does not cause trouble for you."

"Or my friends." Jack added sternly, as if this was not a point up for debate, but rather an essential part of the deal.

The Baron smiled slowly, "And these friends would be?"

"Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper, Owen Harper and Toshiko Sato." Jack answered, "They're all in my year, and-"

"And Miss Sato is a student of House Ravenclaw." the Baron interrupted him with a tone of deep interest.

"That's right, yes." Jack said warily.

"I have little care for this young feud between Slytherin House and that of Lord Gryffindor... it is refreshing to see another share my view." the Baron nodded, "Your friends' protection shall be included in this arrangement."

Jack smiled, "What will you ask of me, then, My Lord?"

The Baron chuckled, "Your formality is also refreshing, but entirely unnecessary. All I ask of you at this time is to befriend more students of the fair Lady Ravenclaw's house. For now, that is all."

Jack frowned slightly, incredibly wary of such an easy task, "There's got to be more to it than that."

"But of course." the Baron smiled, "You will know more when I deem you worthy of such trust. Patience is a virtue easily earned with eternity, and I have all the time in the world."

x x x

Jack joined Tosh's 'tech club', in Ravenclaw Tower, after that. It was an interesting place, but he felt more comfortable in the dungeons and only came here to be with his friends. Ianto had joined in as well, but Gwen and Owen had admitted they wouldn't be much help with computers and decided their time would be better spent on homework and research.

Jack tried- but spectacularly failed- to make any friends in Ravenclaw house, besides Tosh herself. Even though he and his friends had made a good impression on the twins who had helped them find platform nine and three quarters, and one of them was a Ravenclaw... it seemed no one trusted a Slytherin who wanted to join a school club that was effectively a branch of Muggle Studies.

After an initial burst of enthusiasm, the process of making technology work in Hogwarts proved to be a great deal more complicated than most students wanted to try to handle. Tosh, however, was determined, and several other students from non-magical backgrounds, who wanted to be able to bring things like CD players or video games to school with them were eager enough to stick it out.

A small area of Ravenclaw's common room was permanently set up for their club, with the computer and a lot of tools... many of which were magical in origin, brought in by older students who were interested in the project.

The computer was the final step anyway. A goal to aim for... but they'd already made progress on smaller things. Tosh was certain she could have their commlinks running by the end of the year.

x x x

Time passed, and before anyone seemed to notice, it was Hallowe'en... and in Hogwarts this proved to be a Big Deal. Everyone was having a great time at the feast, and even Owen seemed to be enjoying himself. It was just as spectacular as the start of term feast, but this time the hall was decorated with hundred of glowing candlelit pumpkins, live bats and other seasonal decorations.

After the feast, while everyone filled up on excessive amounts of sweets and chocolates, the school ghosts put on a show of formation flying, and a dramatic re-enactment of the failed beheading of the Gryffindor ghost. Jack noticed that the Baron did not deign to participate in the first part, but took some visible pleasure in playing the role of executioner for the grand finale.

"Something's missing." Jack said scanning the vast array of candy for dessert.

"You're kidding." Malcolm Redford said, chewing on a gummy worm.

"I am not." Jack said, standing up and looking across to the other tables. Still not seeing what he was looking for, he sat down, "Bloody Brits." he muttered, quite sure he could as easily blame it on the magical world, "This is why I go to America every year." he said loudly. Owen flipped him off from behind a pair of candy apples he was gnawing on. It was true, though... right now, his past-self should be in New York, in spite of the dire threats Carol always made about leaving the country.

"What's missing, then?" Malcolm asked.

Jack sighed, sulkily picking up his sixth bar of chocolate. He wasn't eating it. He was hoarding it. "Candy corn."

"What is candy corn?" Zoe Alderton asked from Malcolm's other side.

Jack stared at her with a frown, "Difficult to describe... but an essential part of Hallowe'en in the States." he took another chocolate bar.

"What do you need all the chocolate for?" Malcolm asked now.

"Self defence, what d'you think it's for?" Jack sniped in a sarcastic tone. He wasn't joking, though. For the last two months it was the only thing keeping him from feeling creeped out by the mere knowledge that there were Dementors surrounding the grounds.

Dessert seemed to choose this moment to disappear, save the chocolate bars Jack had hoarded, and he was just about to follow the other Slytherins down to the dungeons when Ianto caught his arm to stop him as he was crossing the entrance hall, "Happy Hallowe'en, sir." he handed Jack a bag of candy corn.

"You're amazing, Ianto." he said distractedly as he tore open the packet.

"Aderyn brought me this, this morning." Ianto explained, "I assumed they were for you, but you didn't bother to put a name on it."

Jack looked around, grinning, "We're alone now." he stepped closer to Ianto and was just about to kiss him when a gleefully malicious shriek of laughter echoed through the castle.

Ianto looked up startled, "Peeves."

Neither of them were afraid of Peeves, since Jack's deal with the Bloody Baron. Peeves wasn't their only problem, however. Jack frowned, "And we're out alone after curfew."

They looked at each other with equal fear, "Filch." They turned to run back to their common rooms... only to collide with an irritated Professor Snape.

"And what might you two be doing out of your common rooms?" he demanded.

"We were distracted by all the candy." Jack said, tactfully hiding the candy corn... and offering Snape a bar of chocolate instead.

Ianto made a supreme effort not to laugh at this, but Snape was clearly not amused, "Both of you, follow me-"

But before he could continue, a loud sound like the stampeding of elephants heralded the arrival of the entire Gryffindor house, chattering loudly amongst themselves. Professor McGonagall led her students down the sweeping staircase towards the Great Hall, stopping only to explain to Snape, "Sirius Black has been seen within Hogwarts." she said urgently, "Albus wants us to bring all the students to the Great Hall, and then search the castle."

Jack and Ianto looked at each other in surprise, "We'll just go back in there, then." Jack suggested quickly, and turned to catch up with the Gryffindors before Snape could find any valid reason to argue.

They quickly found Gwen, Owen, Rommy, Vicky and Demelza all huddled together whispering. "It's not possible." Rommy was saying quickly, "No one gets into Hogwarts that's not allowed."

"Clearly someone did." Owen observed.

"Nothing is impenetrable." Jack said idly, and Owen snickered with laughter. Ianto sighed, leaning against the wall and moving his hand slowly in what looked like practicing wand movements. Jack moved closer to him and asked curiously, "What're you doing?"

"Sharp downward flick from the standard duelling stance, into a stabbing move." Ianto said calmly, first demonstrating the steps slowly, then repeating them quickly, "All in one fluid motion. Silencio. I will get it to work."

Owen pulled a face, while the girls giggled... but the rest of the school was arriving now, and Dumbledore spoke over the babble of the crowd, "The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle." the other three houses all looked thoroughly confused, as the teachers closed all the doors into the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately." he turned to the two students in question and added, "Send word with one of the ghosts." the Headmaster turned to leave, but then paused, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing..."

And with a wave of his wand the tables flew to the sides of the hall, out of the way. A second spell conjured hundred of very comfy looking purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well." he said, before closing the door behind him.

"What's going on?" Tosh asked, joining them.

"Sirius Black got into the castle somehow." Gwen answered, "Tried to break into Gryffindor tower, too. Cut up the background of the portrait outside our common room pretty badly, when she refused to let him in."

"Tend to wonder what'd have happened to her if she'd not run off fast enough." Owen muttered morbidly.

Rommy scowled, still very annoyed by their situation, "But no one's supposed to be able to break into Hogwarts!"

"Maybe he Apparated?" Demelza suggested.

"Can't Apparate into Hogwarts." Ianto said bluntly, not bothering to explain why, "Nor cross into the grounds on foot or by air, without being seen by the Dementors." he considered it for a moment, glancing at Jack as he added, "There are other forms of teleportation, though."

Jack idly ran his hand over the wrist strap on his left arm, to ensure that it was still there.

"A Portkey." Ianto said quickly, "It would get through the wards... but he'd need a wand to make one."

"So he stole a wand, then." Owen suggested.

"If he got in with a Portkey, he'd have needed to." Ianto corrected, "Doesn't mean that's what happened. It's just one theory."

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" the head boy shouted, "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

Ianto proceeded to procure eight sleeping bags, and started handing them out to each of the others, while Rommy continued to protest, "But Hogwarts is supposed to be secure!"

"Rommy, give me two weeks and I promise you I can get anywhere." Jack said sincerely, "And I'm not even a fully trained wizard."

"Anywhere?" Rommy asked sceptically, and Owen snorted once more... this time Vicky and Demelza giggled as well, nudging and teasing their friend for daring to go along with Jack's challenge.

"I'll prove it." Jack said determinedly.

"Alright." Rommy said, straightening up, "Within two weeks you have to bring me proof that you got into the Gryffindor girls' dormitories. And no funny business, got it?"

Jack grinned, "No problem." and Owen promptly fell over laughing.

x x x

That Saturday was the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Jack chose this as the perfect occasion to try to break into Gryffindor tower. Gwen, in attempting to dissuade him from this plan, had let slip that the path up to the girls' dormitory had a spell on it that made it impossible to climb the stairs if a boy set foot on them. Jack had therefore 'borrowed' a school broomstick from the Quidditch pitch a few days ago.

Now he stood in front of the portrait he was assured by Ianto would lead to the tower itself. Unfortunately, charming his way past the 'Fat Lady' was no longer an option. She had been replaced by a rather mad knight named Sir Cadogan.

Jack stared at this image as it shouted out cliches of honour and adventure, while a fat little pony of cartoonish proportions grazed in the background of the painting. Jack spent five minutes just watching the knight rant at him, two suits of armour, and a ginger cat, before finally he decided on a course of action.

"Hail, brave Sir-Knight Cadogan!" he called, in his best impersonation of a bad soap actor given a Shakespearian role.

The knight stopped ranting and cried back gleefully, "Hail, and fair morrow to you good sir!"

"I would beg your aid upon a quest of great urgency, in the name of the fair Lady, Romilda Vane, of the great house Gryffindor." Jack said, now making overly dramatic gestures to compliment his exaggerated words.

The knight leaned forward on his over-large sword, which seemed to be stuck in the ground anyway, listening eagerly. "The noble Sir Cadogan is always willing to ride to the aid of a fair damsel in distress, good sir." he stumbled, and the visor of his helmet fell down over his face. He quickly pushed the visor back and asked, "What wouldst thou have me do?"

"I beseech thee, noble knight, allow me entrance to this tower, for 'tis terrible news that she did forget to bring an object of great value with her when she left this high tower, and I have been given the honoured duty of retrieving this treasure for her."

"But of course, good sir, I shall certainly aid you in this valiant quest." and the portrait swung out from the wall to reveal a hidden passageway, leading into Gryffindor tower.

Jack grinned as he stepped out into the Gryffindor common room. That had been almost too easy.

He took a moment to look around with interest at the decor- it went well with the door's new guardian, in his mind- then he turned to the two sets of stairs leading up and out of the common room. He put a foot on the first step of one, and nothing happened... so he tried the other flight of stairs. This time the staircase transformed, the steps themselves melting down into a seamless slide.

Jack tried to step onto this slide, but it was too slick for even his trainers to get a grip on... so he used the broomstick, and was please to find that he was able to fly up the slope without any problem.

"Hmmm... fourth years... fifth... sixth... seventh... ah ha! First years."

He pushed the door open with one hand, very carefully, so as to keep his balance on the broom, then landed neatly enough just inside the door, and looked around. Recognising the book that Gwen had been reading on the train on one of the nightstands, he left that bed alone and looked at the names on the trunks next to each of the other four.

Rommy's was, naturally, the last one he looked at. "Now if I was a twelve year old girl..." he muttered to himself, "Where would I hide my diary?"

He started by checking the bedside table, and was relieved to find that he didn't need to go rooting through the trunk after all. The book he found was small and neat, bound in dark red leather with bronze corners and gilded edges on the pages. Most notably, it had a lock on it, as well as the name '_Romilda Sibyl Vane_' embossed in gold on the front.

He pocketed it, and left the room, allowing himself the childish pleasure of using the slide instead of flying.

x x x

Jack raced down from Gryffindor tower, only pausing to hide the broomstick somewhere safe, to be returned later when no one was watching the Quidditch pitch so intently. He was eager to prove he'd not only achieved what he'd promised he could, but in half the time.

It was a bit of a surprise to see the entire school heading up towards the castle, when he was only halfway down to the pitch... and most of them seemed upset. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team were huddled together around their captain, looking shifty. It was like they wanted to celebrate, but knew that it would be mean... and Hufflepuffs just didn't do mean, it was bad for their public image.

In fact, the only happy people seemed to be a group of Slytherins centred around their own Quidditch team, cheering and gloating as if they'd made a major coup. Jack frowned, but decided to investigate later. He spotted Gwen and the other Gryffindor girls, and made his way over to them.

"What's going on? Game over already?" Jack asked, knowing there had to be more to it than that.

"Yeah... Harry Potter fell off his broom." Gwen answered, glowering at the celebrating Slytherins, "Because somehow the Dementors got into the grounds."

Jack's eyes widened, "How did they get in? Why?" he asked, shocked and horrified... and more than a little frightened at the thought. He was suddenly eternally grateful that he hadn't attended the match, if those fiends had gatecrashed.

"No one knows." Gwen said shakily, "Potter's in the hospital wing... he was okay, but completely out cold. Gryffindor would have won if those monsters hadn't shown up."

Jack frowned, but then shrugged, "Well at least he's okay. Oh, Rommy..." he said, producing the diary from his pocket and handing it to her, having the good grace not to look too pleased with himself, given the current situation.

Romilda stared at the diary in shock, "My... that's my diary! How did you?"

"I told you I could get anywhere." Jack said smugly. Rommy had stopped walking, and so they all had. They weren't far from the edge of the forest, now... the gamekeeper's hut was in sight, and a dog lying near the door, watching them intently. Jack wondered at the half-horse half-bird eyeing them up beadily, from a nearby paddock, and decided to keep a safe distance.

"This was in my room..." Rommy said, stunned, "You were in our dorm room?"

Gwen eyed Jack with bemusement suspicion, "You better not have touched any of my stuff, Jack Harkness."

"I wouldn't dare." Jack said with a faint smirk.

But then he noticed another girl approaching, shoving her way past a couple of boys to where they were, "You stole her _diary?_" the red-head demanded.

"She as good as asked me to." Jack said with a shrug.

"I told him to prove he could do something impossible. This was in my room." Rommy explained.

"You shouldn't go messing with people's personal property like that." the red-haired girl said angrily.

"Sorry, I don't think we've been properly introduced... I'm Jack Harkness, and you are...?"

"Ginny Weasley." she said sharply.

Jack smiled at her, "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Weasley."

Ginny glowered at him, "I don't like you." she said bluntly, folding her arms defensively across her chest, "I don't trust Slytherins, and the more charming they act, the less I like them."

"That's a bit unfair, you don't even know me." Jack defended, quite surprised by her attitude, and more than a little annoyed at the way Gwen was giggling at him for it.

Ginny snorted, "You girls should stay away from him. And don't leave _that_ lying around, either." she said, shooting Rommy a brief glance, before storming off.

"She's Ron's sister." Gwen explained, "'_Slytherins are evil_' seems to be the Weasley family motto."

Jack frowned, "She came over here just because I stole Rommy's diary." he said, a bit confused, "What's the big deal in that? Not like I _read_ it. It's still locked, see?"

"No idea." Gwen said distantly.

Jack sulked slightly, muttering, "Just because I read Ianto's diary that one time..."

"Seemed like it had something to do with her opinion on Slytherins, to me." Vicky pointed out.

Jack shrugged, "Well if I want to know anything any Slytherin did to offend anyone in this school, I know exactly who to ask for our house's side of the story." he said, glancing at the girls with a faint grin, "Draco Malfoy. The boy just will not shut up."

Vicky and Demelza giggled, as all five of them started heading back up towards the castle.

None of them noticed the dog outside Hagrid's hut pick itself up and trot off into the forest to contemplate Jack Harkness' quite unique ability to infiltrate inaccessible parts of Hogwarts castle.

x x x


	10. Hogwarts: A History

x x x

**Chapter 10: Hogwarts, A History**

x x x

Draco Malfoy really was a spoiled brat.

That had been Jack's immediate impression, and the boy had done nothing to change that opinion. He boasted constantly about his father, his house, his bloodlines, and every minor achievement any of these three had to their name. Draco himself seemed not to have done much worth boasting about, and took more pleasure in the failures of others than in any of his own victories.

Still, he had a talent and flair for story-telling. If you wanted to hear any tale about Slytherin house, especially if it involved the suffering of any of the other three houses, Draco was the one to go to. Often, you'd be forced to listen, even when you didn't want to know.

"Hey, Draco." Jack said brightly, finding the third year sitting with a few of his friends, near the fire in the common room.

"What do you want, kid?" the girl sitting next to Draco demanded snappishly.

"Nevermind Pansy here." Draco said, waving dismissively at the girl, "Too many colour potions in her hair." The black-haired witch glowered at Draco for this, but he didn't seem bothered in the slightest, "Do join us, Harkness." he said, indicating the only unoccupied seat by the fire, indicating that Jack should sit.

Jack did so, getting the distinct feeling that Draco was trying his best to play the part of someone with far more power than he actually had. Like he thought he was the rightful leader of his house. It was a good illusion, but that's all it was.

And Draco looked like he was waiting for Jack to explain why he was there. Jack didn't see any reason to dance around the subject, "I just really annoyed Ginny Weasley, and I'm not sure why."

"Why'd you care why?" one of Draco's two minions asked. Jack knew their names where Crabbe and Goyle, but in spite of them looking very different from each other, he had never bothered to learn which was which.

"Can't learn from an accident without knowing what I did." Jack shrugged, implying with his tone that he wanted to repeat the incident, even though that wasn't the case at all.

Draco grinned, "What did you actually do to her?"

"She might have overheard me gloating to Romilda Vane about my skills as a thief." Jack said, shrugging, "I got my hands on Rommy's diary, and-" Jack had been about to continue when Draco doubled over laughing, leaning on the arm of his chair and literally gasping for air past the maniacal laughter.

Obviously it was a big deal.

Pansy was grinning evilly, now... and Crabbe and Goyle chuckled ghoulishly, in spite of obviously not knowing why they were laughing.

"Hey, first years!" Draco called out, "Anyone want to hear a scary story?" It didn't take long for the entire Slytherin first year to have gathered on the floor in front of the fire, eager to hear the tale. "How many of you have heard of the Chamber of Secrets?"

x x x

_It started at Hallowe'en, just after the feast. Doesn't it always? I'd like to say it was a dark and stormy night, but it really wasn't. Like this year, it was clear and starry, with a full moon and everything._

_It's odd, and I still don't know how it happened, but you do know that the corridors and stairways in Hogwarts tend to move of their own accord. No matter what way we tried to take to get to our common room, the castle seemed determined to lead us up to the second floor. We kept turning back, but the third time we found ourselves there, we tried to cut across and go down the far staircase._

_We found ourselves in a packed corridor and the crowd had stopped moving. The entire school must have been crammed into that one tiny little corridor._

_Pushing to the front of the crowd, that's when I saw it. Written on the wall in what looked suspiciously like blood. "_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware_." Below it was Mrs Norris, hung up by her tail and petrified- literally turned to stone- and in front of it all, looking guilty as sin, Harry Potter and his two lackeys, Weasley and Granger._

_Now the old stories of the Chamber of Secrets say that Salazar Slytherin himself built this hidden chamber beneath the castle, which only he and his true heir could access. And within, a monster only Slytherin's heir could control._

_Legend has it, he and Godric Gryffindor had a falling out over who should or shouldn't be allowed to study at Hogwarts. Salazar wanted to keep it in the old families while Godric wanted to let the children of pitchfork-wielding mobs in to spy on us. When Godric won, Salazar was exiled, and he swore that one day his true heir would return to exterminate all those unworthy of learning magic._

_What? Harkness, please shut up, you're destroying the dramatic tension here!_

_As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, everyone suspected those found at the scene of the crime. Potter, especially. This got even worse when it was proved he could speak to snakes. One of Salazar 'Serpent-tongue' Slytherin's trademark talents. Not like Mr Goody-Two-Shoes could really have done it, he's far too noble, it makes me want to puke._

_Then two people who happened to have rubbed Potter the wrong way wind up petrified like Mrs Norris. Colin Creepy Creevey, highly offensive head of the Harry Potter fan club- I'm a shameless attention-seeker, but if that little creep tried to worship the ground I walk on the way he did with Potter, I might kill him myself. And Justin Finch-Fletchley, admitted Muggle-born who insulted Potter the night everyone found out he could talk to snakes._

_The Heir was trying to frame him for it, adding fuel to the fire for the Muggle-loving fools to persecute their boy-hero._

_But eventually his girlfriend, Granger, got attacked too. Hateful little know-it-all. Petrification naturally includes the blessing of silence, and between her and Creevey, couldn't have happened to more deserving people._

_Even the supposedly omnipotent Dumbledore couldn't find the source of these attacks, or attempt to stop them. No, Crabbe, I was being sarcastic, I don't think he's omnipotent. No, Goyle, that's 'impotent' you're talking about. I hate you both._

_They were going to shut down the school because they couldn't find the culprit, and it wasn't safe in the castle anymore. And as soon as that decision was announced, lo and behold another victim! This time, the writing on the wall read, "_Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever_."_

_This latest victim... was Ginny Weasley._

_Now we all know Potter had to go play hero... saved the damsel in distress, defeated the big bad snake, and stopped them from closing the school. Blah blah blah. Nobody cares. The interesting part is that the Heir of Slytherin wasn't anywhere near the school, this whole time._

_He was using Little Miss Weasley to do his dirty work. Controlling her through an illusion of friendly words, making her kill the gamekeeper's roosters, because their cry could kill the monster she was setting on the other students. Making her write her own ransom note on the wall. Making the daughter of the most outspoken pro-Muggle member of the Ministry of Magic try to kill off Muggle-born children! The irony is truly amazing._

_And how, you may ask?_

_He enchanted a diary with his memories of the first time he had tried to open the Chamber of Secrets, fifty years before. This diary found its way into Ginny Weasley's hands, and she spent months pouring her heart out into its pages, every word of truth or emotion she wrote giving it a greater hold over her, until she was entirely under its thrall._

_Believe me, I've tried to figure out how that sort of magic works, but no one knows. It's like nothing anyone here could ever learn, beyond even the Imperius curse, and-_

_The Imperius curse, Rosier, is one of the three unforgivable curses. Point wand, say Imperio, really really mean it, and it's total mind control. No, of course there's more to it than that, and no! I'm not telling _you_ how to do it properly! You'd get a life sentence in Azkaban for even _trying_ to use it, anyway._

_The other two are called Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra. Cruciatus is a torture curse, worst pain imaginable... and Avada Kedavra is a curse designed specifically to kill. Sure, other spells _can_ kill, but they're either not designed to, or they're meant to cause a specific form of death, usually reversible if you're fast enough with the counter-curse before they take full effect, or at least blockable with shielding charms._

_Avada Kedavra is unblockable, instant death. No way of surviving, when the caster knows what they're doing. Only one exception to prove the rule, only one person has ever survived the killing curse, and guess who that is._

_That's right... Harry Bloody Potter._

x x x

The invisibility section of the library was, as usual, unoccupied. That is, until Jack and Ianto found their way there. Ianto had homework for his history class, but Jack hadn't brought any work to do. Instead, he sat next to Ianto, pulling his chair up a bit too close for comfort, and leaning over to see what Ianto was doing.

As the textbooks came out, he snatched '_Hogwarts: A History_' out of Ianto's grasp, and grinned as he leaned back and opened it. Ianto stared for half a second, then shrugged and returned to his other books. He didn't really need that one for this assignment, anyway.

As Jack leaned back to read the book, his leg idly brushed against Ianto's, causing him to jump and stare at Jack. But when Jack feigned innocence, Ianto returned to his work, making a conscious effort to try to ignore the personification of distraction sitting next to him.

Jack flipped through the book for a second, then announced sulkily, "No index? No contents list? What century was this book even written in?"

Ianto looked at him quizzically, surprised that Jack seemed to actually want to read it, rather than just being purposefully obtuse about it. "Eighteen sixty-three. Says so on the back."

Jack turned the book over to look at it, and frowned, "So nothing interesting's happened at Hogwarts since then, to warrant the book being updated and re-published?"

"Apparently not." Ianto shrugged, and returned to his homework.

"Sounds unlikely." Jack muttered, before returning his full attention to the book. Ianto gave him an odd look for a moment, as he flicked slowly through the pages... clearly searching for something the hard way, as the text in question did lack any other way of dealing with it.

"What're you looking for?" Ianto asked, setting his pen down on the desk, and turning to face Jack, pretending not to noticed, as Jack's leg purposefully brushed his once more as he turned.

"Salazar Slytherin." Jack said, smirking faintly at Ianto, "I've heard some stories about him, and I wanted to know if there was any basis in fact."

Ianto took the book from Jack's unresisting hands, and flicked quickly to somewhere near the middle, reading aloud, "Salazar Slytherin. Eldest of the four founders of Hogwarts school, was best known for his works in the field of potions and thaumaturgy, and his unique talent for communication with certain species of serpents, also known as Parseltongue."

"What's thaumaturgy?" Jack asked, frowning slightly.

"Blood magic." Ianto said vaguely, without needing to bother looking it up. Jack frowned, a little unsure as to exactly how Ianto came to know this off the top of his head. "He was also less renown for his experiments in magical mutation. Salazar was the first wizard to learn the secrets behind beasts of unnatural birth, including the spawning of Lethifold and Dementors, the incubation of Augeries and Basilisks, and the regeneration of Phoenixes.

"During his time at Hogwarts, Salazar's hand-picked students were chosen for their ambitious nature, and desire to make themselves of value to the magical community as a whole. Salazar also favoured keen, intelligent individuals who were able to learn quickly and display practical problem-solving abilities."

"Does it mention something called the Chamber of Secrets?" Jack asked.

Ianto scanned down the page, and shook his head, "Not by name. It does say that Salazar was known to disappear from the school, sometimes for several weeks at a time. He was suspected of having a hidden getaway somewhere within the grounds."

"What about when he left the school?" Jack insisted, "I heard that he had an argument with Godric Gryffindor?"

"This was a thousand years ago." Ianto observed, flicking forward several pages, "Muggles really were xenophobic. They'd turn on their own children if they found out the kids could use magic. Salazar Slytherin didn't trust the Muggle-borns, because a few of them tried to tell their parents where Hogwarts was... to try to convince their parents to accept them again. It didn't work, on either count.

"There's a whole chapter here about the incident. The murderous mob got to the front gate, saw an illusion of a ruin, instead of the castle, and- and actually killed the two young witches who betrayed the school, before they turned around and went home. Salazar worried that it could happen again, and didn't want to risk the Muggles figuring it out and hurting the other children studying here.

"He tried to convince the others to restrict admittance to the school, but they didn't listen. It ended up in a big fight with Godric Gryffindor- a proper wizard's duel-"

"Wizard's duel?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. Ten paces, wands only. Usually no killing." Ianto shrugged, "That's the full extent of the rules for serious or amateur duelling, although formal tournament rules are complicated enough to rival Quidditch... or even American football."

"Owen might be right... you do know everything."

"Actually... I looked it up when I read this chapter." Ianto said, holding up the book they were researching, for emphasis, and smirking faintly.

"So what happened?" Jack asked, moving to take the book, but Ianto pulled it back so he could read directly from it.

"Salazar was disarmed and defeated after a gruelling battle that took a great toll upon both wizards. Infuriated at this loss, he departed from the castle, never to be seen again. Salazar swore a vow that Godric would long regret his refusal to listen to reason, and that Godric's pride should be held accountable for any and all danger that may come to Hogwarts students from this mistake."

Jack frowned, "Doesn't sound anything like the version I heard." he said, thinking about it, "But then... legends get manipulated with time and generations. No one in this school has read that book-"

"Except Hermione Granger." Ianto pointed out, Jack gave him a surprised look, and he simply shrugged, "She seemed quite stunned when she saw me reading it, last week."

"And no one else seems to want to believe anything but the worst of Slytherin house." Jack finished, as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I wonder if this 'Chamber of Secrets' you mentioned might be some sort of hidden laboratory, or sanctuary for Salazar? Like this book suggests?" Ianto suggested, "Maybe he never even left the castle?"

"Well no one knows how to find it, except Harry Potter..." Jack pointed out, "Draco did imply that there was a monster down there... but Potter killed it."

Ianto smiled, "I'm sure Gwen could help us find out more."

x x x

Gwen stared at Jack for several seconds, clearly confused and stunned by the sudden influx of information, and the request to go with it, "Uh uh. Can't do that." she said, shaking her head.

"Why not?" Jack asked, somewhere between a sense of indignity that she would refuse, and an outright whining tone.

"Because the other Gryffindors think I'm in league with an evil Slytherin." she protested, pointing at Jack to emphasises who she was referring to, "Yes, it's childish and ridiculous, but it's way these kids see it. If I start asking around about this Chamber of Secrets, they're really not going to trust me about it."

"Do we really need to know about this?" Owen asked, "I mean, it's ancient history."

"Ancient history that nearly killed a bunch of students last year." Jack pointed out, "I think it's worth investigating... and since you're quite blatantly NOT my friend, Owen..."

"Oh no!" Owen said defensively.

"Just try to make friends with Harry Potter." Gwen said, putting a hand on Owen's arm in that oddly placating way she had that seemed to make most people want to calm down in spite of their worst intentions.

"It's really simple." Ianto said brightly, "Say hello to Ron Weasley. Complain loudly about 'that Slytherin in my potions class'. Instant way into that little clique."

Owen gave Ianto a sceptical scowl, but then took in the perfectly serious look Jack was giving him, "Alright, fine! I'll try. Okay? Sheesh, why do we care about some dead guy's evil underground lair, anyway?"

x x x

Charms was one of Jack's least favourites classes... second only to Herbology. If it weren't for Ianto sharing this class with him, he might actively hate it. He was having trouble getting the hang of the spells, because they required a degree of belief in one's own magical abilities, and so far Jack had spent a hundred and seventy odd years _knowing_ that there was no such thing as magic.

Sure, technology could impersonate it well enough, to the uneducated eye, but that didn't make it any easier to for him to fully trust himself with this sort of power. Conversely, it turned out that he was pretty good at picking up the few jinxes and curses he had tried to learn. Seeing the wand as a weapon and the incantation as a trigger made it a lot easier for him to believe in what he was doing.

Over the last few days, they were supposed to be working on basic animation charms, to make inanimate objects act out pre-determined sequences of movement, and had been trying to make an origami bird flap its wings. Professor Flitwick had waxed lyrical about the art of combining such a charm with basic levitation, to make it better resemble a real bird as it flew.

While everyone else had already got the hang of it in their previous lesson, Jack had been lucky to make the paper bird twitch at all... in spite of his cheerful suggestions to Ianto of exactly what could be done with such a spell and a few action figures.

Now, Jack lurked outside the classroom, with Malcolm and Zoe, while the Hufflepuffs arrived.

"Hey, watch where you're going, Mudblood!" Avery snapped, as one of the Hufflepuff boys was jostled into him in the crowd.

"I- I'm sorry, I-" the Hufflepuff boy stammered nervously. As a point of personal pride- and in the interest of making contact with potential allies when they returned to their own time- Jack had made a deliberate effort to remember the names of everyone he could, here, and as he had witnessed this boy's Sorting, he could identify him as being named Jamie Burns.

"What did you just call him?" a Hufflepuff girl- Lindsay Davies- asked, confused.

Ianto had been standing off to one side, not fitting in well with his fellow Hufflepuffs, and therefore keeping his distance... but now he stepped forward, towards the dispute, "Muggle is a mildly derogatory word. Squib is fairly insulting. Calling someone whose parents are Muggles by the word Mr Avery here so charmingly used... would be in a par with calling Miss Alderton something that begins with N."

Zoe's eyes flashed with anger at the mere suggestion... but she did have the same coloration as Martha, and if it was a valid comparison it was quite a vicious way to put it. Then again, Ianto had always had a way of using words as weapons.

Jamie fumed and looked like he wanted to hit Avery... if he wasn't significantly shorter than the Slytherin.

"You'd better apologise for that." Jack said coldly.

As he approached the argument, he saw the way the Hufflepuffs pulled together like they thought he would take Avery's side... but when he carefully stepped past Avery, and turned on his fellow Slytherin, it was made clear what he really meant.

"What?" Avery demanded indignantly, "You're taking these... Hufflepuffs' side against one of your own?"

"I'm sorry, what loyalty do I owe you precisely, Avery?" Jack asked coldly, folding his arms, "You insulted my friends, the first time you spoke to me. You hexed my homework a grand total of seven times; I know the counter-curse to a biting jinx, I don't even know why you keep trying. And let's not forget the feeble attempt to poison my coffee; I've spent the last two years around Ianto, I know when someone's spiked my drink."

Ianto coughed pointedly, "Not helping, Jack." he muttered. True enough, his fellow Hufflepuffs were even more wary of him than before, now.

"If you have a personal problem with someone, there's no reason to throw generic racial slurs at them. It just makes you look ignorant. Now, if I were you, Avery... I'd apologise." Jack warned, "Right now."

"Or what?" Avery snapped, angrily.

"Do you really want to know?" Jack asked, smiling in a threatening way.

Avery continued to glare defiantly, "Do your worst."

Jack laughed, "Oh no, you're not worth the trouble I'd get in for that. I'd rather just humiliate you." he said... before casting the only charm he had really got the hang of since he'd got to Hogwarts, "Wingardium Leviosa."

x x x

Neville Longbottom was early for charms class. This came from an innate talent for not getting covered in dirt during Herbology.

It also had the unfortunate side-effect of him being alone in the charms corridor, with nothing but the eerie echo of his footsteps, and the not-particularly-reassuring weight of his schoolbag, which he had once managed to use to block a curse from a sixth year Slytherin. It was times like this he felt sure something bad was about to happen... like a bunch of Slytherins ambushing him, like that time in his first year when Malfoy had got him with the leg-locker curse, or Peeves swooping out of nowhere. Swooping was bad.

So when he heard the muffled whimpering sound, he jumped about a foot in the air, looking back and forth along the corridor like a startled gazelle. It took him a few seconds to realise there was no threat, and calm down a bit. He looked around more carefully, now... seeing nothing lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce.

Then he looked lower, and saw a pair of shoes sitting neatly against the wall, next to a suit of armour.

The whimpering sound repeated itself, and Neville cautiously approached the suit, tentatively lifting the visor and peering inside. Nothing there. He glanced down the corridor and saw no similar suits or tapestries with which to hide. The only alternative appeared to be the charms classroom itself.

Very slowly, he approached the door, and upon checking the handle found that it did open. He warily poked his head inside, only to jump once more when the whimpering sound came very much from behind him. Whirling around, he once more came face to face with absolutely nothing.

"Hello?" he asked cautiously. The whimper could be heard again... echoing down the corridor a bit, but not coming from either direction in particular. "Who's there?"

Another whimper.

Neville drew upon all his courage, and raised his voice, "I'm warning you, show yourself or I'll jinx you!"

Yet another whimper. It began to sound like it was coming from overhead... Neville slowly looked upwards.

On the ceiling, secured there by straps of some odd grey material that Neville had never seen before covering his entire body, was a boy. His feet and head were all that was visible around the strange substance holding him there. His feet were bare, and his socks were secured in his mouth by another strap of the apparently sticky stuff.

Neville realised it was a Slytherin... only because his school tie had been wrapped around his head as a makeshift blindfold.

Neville wasn't sure how long he stared at the trapped Slytherin, before footsteps startled him, and he looked to see some of his classmates headed this way. Harry and Ron and Hermione.

"Hey, guys...!" Neville called, pointing upwards.

All three looked at once. Ron laughed, while the other two stared.

"Why is there a Slytherin first-year duct-taped to the ceiling?" Hermione asked in wonderment.

"What's duck tape?"

"Duc_t_-tape." Hermione corrected, with emphasis on the fact it had nothing to do with water-birds.

"It's a Muggle thing, Ron." Harry answered vaguely, still staring as the distressed Slytherin began whimpering more determinedly, clearly hearing them even if he couldn't see them... and quite probably begging to be released from his prison. "Uh... Hermione, can you get him down from there?"

"Hmm... yeah, I think an unsticking spell should work." Hermione waved her wand, casting a spell Neville didn't recognise, closely followed by a more familiar, "Levicorpus." so that when the boy fell she caught him in thin air and levitated him slowly to the ground, where she let him land neatly on his feet.

The odd straps of stuff Hermione had called duct-tape fell to the ground, harmlessly enough, and the Slytherin quickly pulled his tie off his head and his socks out of his mouth, while Neville picked up a piece of the not-so-sticky-anymore stuff and looked at it more closely.

But before any of them could question the strange occurrence of finding a Slytherin stuck to the ceiling by some Muggle adhesive, the boy had grabbed his shoes and fled, flushing with embarrassment.

Poor kid... that looked far worse than any of the jinxes Malfoy had ever used on any of his victims. Neville just hoped none of the Slytherins got any ideas, after this incident.

x x x


	11. Presents And Divination

x x x

**Chapter 11: Presents And Divination**

x x x

"Hmmm." Owen pondered, eyeing the notice that had been posted in the entrance hall.

The notice in question declared that all students should inform their head of house if they wanted to stay for Christmas. All five of them were lurking nearby, while other students read it and strutted off with their noses in the air, or ran away as if the notice itself was an evil scheme by Sirius Black.

"Stick around with the homicidal maniac lurking out there somewhere... or go spend Christmas at Jack's place?" Owen wondered aloud, in his most sceptical tone.

"No contest." Gwen said, shrugging, "There's nowhere to sleep in that cramped apartment."

"You haven't seen the bedroom." Jack muttered. Ianto shot him a look, and Jack shrugged, "Plenty of room... honest."

"I... really don't think so." Owen said, cringing slightly at the mental pictures he seemed to get from this.

Tosh giggled, "I could really use some time to work on that crystal..." she pondered.

"Then you go spend the holiday with all the mistletoe in Captain Sexual Harassment's one-bedroom apartment." Owen sniped.

Tosh stared at thin air for several seconds, "Point well made." she said bluntly.

"I'm _not_ that bad, Owen." Jack defended, "Honestly, I do draw the line somewhere."

"Where, precisely?" Owen asked in a challenging tone.

"Uh... maybe Tosh shouldn't go back there... not alone, at least." Jack muttered. They all stared at him in obvious horror, "What?" Jack shook his head, seeming exasperated, "In my time, age isn't relevant... what counts is maturity. It's not like she's really as young as she looks, and she's hardly a virgin."

Tosh was blushing furiously at this debate, but managed to point out, "What about consent?"

"That also counts." Jack said with a nod, as if to say 'well duh'.

"Then there wouldn't be a problem." Tosh observed pointedly.

"Define consent." Jack said bluntly. And there was the horrified staring again.

Ianto sighed, knowing full well that Jack's definition included seduction under the influence of 51st century pheromones... which really wasn't fair at all, but he wasn't particularly bothered by it himself. Especially as it was quite clear that Jack did his best to conform to acceptable behaviour for the time they were in, and apparently everyone in his home time could handle such influences better than in this time.

Finally, Ianto announced, "I guess we're all staying here for Christmas, then!"

x x x

Whoever planned the Christmas decorations- and there was very little doubt that this person was Albus Dumbledore- seemed to have found that perfect level of enthusiasm, where a hair more would be too much, but as it was it was just fantastic.

Each member of the team spotted different teachers participating in the act of decorating the castle, between their last few classes. From Hagrid dragging _real_ Christmas trees that dwarfed even him through the hallways, to Flitwick cheerfully levitating baubles up onto said trees, and even McGonagall had been spotted conjuring glittering streamers to hang from the ceiling.

Snape and Filch seemed to be the only two people in the whole school who didn't enjoy the anticipation of the holiday season. Although admittedly, most of the students were enjoying the prospect of going home to their families, more than anything else about it.

On Christmas Eve, all the first years left in the school had decided to camp out in the Ravenclaw tower.

Aside from the team, only two other first years- one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff- had not so much decided to stay as been given no choice by their families being out of the country. Samuel Braithwaite and Albert Cadwallader were both from old magical families, and had been friends for years before Hogwarts. They had both found Tosh's suggestion of camping up in the tower to be downright brilliant.

It left Hufflepuff's common room entirely deserted.

When they left for Ravenclaw, Gwen and Owen had informed the other three Gryffindors where they'd been going, and invited them along. Harry Potter had politely declined, while his two friends were too engrossed in a blazing row about a cat to even notice the offer.

Jack had just waved to the solitary school prefect, as he'd left the Slytherin common room, and announced cheerfully, "I'm gonna spend the night with my Hufflepuff boyfriend."

Now, half an hour later...

"Sneaky little..." a voice grumbled from the Ravenclaw common room doorway, just as the seven first-years were settling themselves into purple sleeping bags not entirely unlike those that had been used at Hallowe'en. "You said Hufflepuff!" Emily Greengrass snapped.

"No." Jack said, shaking his head, "I said I'd be spending the night with Ianto. Ianto's right here."

Ianto rolled his eyes, while Owen snickered.

"I turned that common room upside-down. And Diggory's gonna _kill_ you two for it." Emily said, pointing threateningly at Ianto and Albert.

Ianto's eyes lit up at this suggestion, "Really?" he asked hopefully.

"You sound like this is a good thing?" Emily asked, frowning, "I'm serious. Diggory's gonna make you turn that place right way up again, the Muggle way."

Ianto turned to grin at Albert, "Never touch my homework again, and I'll do the entire common room myself. Deal?" he asked, holding his hand out to his fellow Hufflepuff. Albert nodded slowly, accepting the handshake. He was clearly shaken, and more than a bit stunned, first by the threat, then by the almost too good to be true deal that he had just been offered.

Owen shook his head at Ianto, "Worryingly... I'm not surprised by this at all."

Emily stared in confusion, but then shrugged and drew her wand, conjuring up another sleeping bag and settling herself in it. "You kids need an authority figure around here."

Owen snorted, "Between Gwen mothering us, Ianto providing food, and Jack... being Jack... we've got all the grown up company we need."

"He's right." Jack nodded, "Unless you were getting all lonely down there?" he added with a suggestive tone.

Emily raised a sceptical eyebrow at him, and then pulled a deck of Exploding Snap cards out of the pocket of her robes. "Who here knows how to play Exploding _Poker_?"

Once Emily had explained the rules (it was basically five-card-draw poker, played with Exploding Snap cards... which made it very difficult to bluff when you got pairs) they played for imaginary house points, starting with fifty apiece. It quickly became very political, with the eight of them pairing up with their respective housemates and conspiring against one another.

In spite of the element of house rivalry, and the general ruthlessness of the game itself (Emily had made it clear at the beginning that cheating was not merely tolerated... it was mandatory), their attitudes managed to remain friendly and light-hearted throughout.

No one took it seriously, and everyone enjoyed themselves.

In the end, it was nearly midnight when Ianto managed to clean them all out. Owen spent five minutes trying to figure out how he cheated, before Jack confessed to stacking the deck in his and Ianto's favour, and Ianto muttered something about counting cards.

Emily then insisted they all get to sleep, because if they weren't all asleep at the same time, then their presents would not magically appear. Owen scoffed at this, and the others seemed sceptical as well, but they obeyed her nonetheless.

x x x

Owen was the first to wake up on Christmas morning, and everyone else closely followed, thanks to his shocked yell of, "Holy shit!"

"Wha-?" Jack grumbled sleepily, rolling over.

Emily swatted a hand in the direction of Owen's voice, but only found thin air. Tosh burrowed deeper into her sleeping bag, while Samuel and Albert both jumped and stared around in confusion. And a single glowering eye appeared from under the edge of Gwen's sleeping bag.

"What's the matter, honey?" Ianto asked, sitting up casually, as if he'd been awake for a while now, just waiting for someone else to show signs of life before moving, "Bad dream?" Unlike everyone else, he was enough of a morning person to have recovered from the rude awakening and come up with a suitably insulting retort.

Owen didn't seem to notice the rudeness of the remark, and simply pointed to a pile of brightly coloured and neatly wrapped presents in the middle of the common room floor. Eight neat little stacks, sitting in a small circle. Three of them were noticeably larger than the others.

Those three turned out to belong to the three real children, while the five smaller piles- one of which contained only one present- were for the Torchwood team. The presents were all clearly labelled, and soon everyone was tearing away at the shiny paper, to get at the gifts within. Even the usually jaded Owen was quite gleeful at the prospect of his three presents.

It turned out that Ianto had bought each of the other four a box of assorted candies, all with strange names- and apparently magical properties- ranging from 'pepper imps' to 'ice mice'.

Jack had also given presents to everyone, according to the labels they had been purchased from some sort of catalogue called '_Alleyne and Alderton's Arcane Emporium_'.

From this selection, Tosh got some sort of gold-coloured pen-shaped thing called an '_Inference Detector_', apparently designed to scan for different sorts of spells. Gwen got a small glass spinning top called a '_Sneakoscope_', designed to detect duplicity. Owen got a small silvery device called a '_Healer's Helper_', designed to diagnose magical maladies. And Ianto got a magic mirror called a '_Foe Glass_' which was meant to show him the faces of his enemies. It didn't show anything at all, besides swirling fog... which was either a good thing, or it was broken.

Tosh and Owen had also exchanged gifts. Owen had got her a book called '_1993; An Arithmancer's Armanac_'... while she had given him a box, containing six bottles of a non-alcoholic drink called '_Butterbeer_', which the label claimed was '_better than real beer_'.

Jack and Tosh had also received gifts from Jack's past-self. A collection of various bits of technology, 'liberated from Torchwood' for Tosh, including the commlinks she had specifically requested.

And for Jack, a thick A4 notebook written in some alien language only he seemed to understand, accompanied by a letter of explanation, saying simply, '_Since you said you forgot this decade, here's a brief summary so far_'. Said brief summary filled the entire notebook, in small writing, without an inch of blank space.

x x x

They spent the entire morning trying the sweets- and in Tosh and Jack's case, reading as well- before finally deigning to appear downstairs for Christmas lunch.

The house tables had been moved to the side, once more, to make way for a single table set for seventeen places. Once the eight of them had sat down, and been enthusiastically greeted by the Headmaster himself, there were still three places unoccupied.

"Are they still on about the cat?" Owen asked Gwen, who shrugged dismissively.

The others around the table included Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout and Flitwick... and Mr Filch.

These were the only adults who had stayed, and there was a strong sense that they were only there because each of the four teachers where heads of house, therefore responsible for their respective students. Meanwhile the Torchwood team would all have been quite surprised if Dumbledore and Filch didn't actually live in the castle all year around.

The doors opened, just as Jack started to prod the overlarge silver Christmas cracker set on his plate. Each place-setting had one, but everyone _else_ was waiting patiently for the three remaining Gryffindors.

"Happy Christmas!" Dumbledore called out, as the three students in question finally wandered in and nervously approached the three remaining seats at the end of the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables. Sit down, sit down!"

They sat together, eyes scanning the table with obvious uncertainty. Well, it was normal for children their age to be unsure, when having to deal with authority figures on an even footing, as this eating arrangement seemed to force them to do.

"Crackers!" Dumbledore announced happily, offering his to Snape, who looked utterly repulsed by the very concept of such merriment, as he reluctantly accepted the end of the thing and pulled.

The sound it made was quite spectacular, like a gunshot, and sparks of light and glittering confetti flew everywhere as a witches hat appeared where the cracker had been. It had a stuffed vulture on the top, and judging by his expression, it seemed to inspire genuine nausea in Snape.

The three older Gryffindors were now fighting very hard against the instinct to laugh. Well, the boys were, Hermione was trying to look disapproving, as well.

Snape pushed the hat towards Dumbledore, who cheerfully swapped out his own hat for it.

Jack picked up his cracker, and offered it to Ianto. Owen muttered very quietly about double-entendres, before promptly turning to Tosh and Gwen, to pull their crackers as well.

When Hermione and Ron pulled their cracker together, a dunce cap fell out. Both stared for several seconds before Ron volunteered to take the offending item, to save Hermione from the indignity.

Soon, everyone who was willing to do so was wearing funny hats. Jack won a perfectly realistic pirate hat. Owen got one of those little beanies with a spinner on top. Gwen had a glittery golden top hat which looked like something straight out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Filch had a sleek black top hat that he seemed to very much have taken a liking to. Even Madam Sprout now wore a hat that strongly resembled a potted fern.

The crackers also included odd trinkets as prizes, as well. Far more impressive than anything out of a normal non-magical cracker. Between them, the Torchwood team ended up with two sets of moving chess pieces- one in gold shiny metal, the other in blue marbled stone- their own deck of exploding cards, and a pair of luminously coloured enchanted quills, one of which was meant to correct spelling while they other would only write smart-arse remarks.

Everyone was laughing, by the end of this part of the proceedings, and Jack had to tell Owen off three times for quoting Pirates of the Caribbean when it hadn't even been made yet.

Once there were no more crackers left, Dumbledore brightly announced, "Dig in!" and food appeared, as it had done for the previous two feasts.

It was typical Christmas dinner fare, turkey, ham, stuffing, roast mashed and boiled potatoes, gravy, brussels sprouts, and those weird little sausages that just don't taste the same any other time of the year... but it was so much better than any other Christmas dinner the team could remember.

And without a word they all simply stuffed their faces. Several minutes passed in silence, as everyone was too busy enjoying the food to talk.

Then, "Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" Dumbledore called cheerily, rising and turning politely to face the doorway. Everyone looked up at the woman he had greeted, pausing in their meal to see who had shown up both late and, if the lack of extra place settings was anything to go by, unexpected.

She looked very floaty, in a glittery green dress that entirely failed to hide the fact she seemed unnaturally skinny. Her hair was wispy, blonde, and beginning to go grey, and she wore too-big glasses that magnified her eyes oddly. Not in any way a good-looking woman.

In fact, she looked like, if she was a Muggle she'd be the type to wear a tin-foil hat.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster." Sybill said in a vague voice that just perfectly failed to sound mysterious as she must had intended it to, "And to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness."

"Certainly, certainly." Dumbledore said in the tone of one telling a mental patient that of course the moon is made of green cheese, it's just not worth arguing, now, is it? "Let me draw you up a chair."

Jack snorted, while the Headmaster quite literally drew a chair shape with his wand, in order to conjure one up out of thin air.

"Yeah, and I see myself running the British version of Men In Black, in ten years time." he declared loudly enough for the entire table to hear him.

Tosh and Gwen both snorted with laughter, while Owen pulled a face that said he was trying to do maths in his head, and it hurt. Ianto saw the same problem as Owen, but much more quickly, leaning over and whispering to Jack, "That's ninety-seven, Jack."

Hermione Granger, however, after snorting with amusement at Sybill's expense, stared at Jack, "I didn't know Slytherins read Muggle comics?"

Jack just gave Ianto a smug 'I knew this when I said it' look, while the rest of the table tried to figure it out. McGonagall seemed to interpret the three girls' laughter correctly, however, and looked quite smug that they didn't respect the concept of fortune-telling.

Even if Jack's statement had been a truly perfect prediction. That was the irony, really.

Sybill eyed those who laughed at her with a slightly unfocused but distinctly disapproving look, before sitting herself down in the chair Dumbledore had conjured, with all the feigned dignity she could conjure for herself. That really wasn't much, though.

"Seriously, Muggle comics?" Hermione prompted.

"Comics, movies, TV shows. Yeah." Jack said vaguely, shrugging raising his goblet of pumpkin juice to her in a mock toast, grinning, "My favourite's Captain Scarlet."

As Jack hid the worst of his smug smirk behind his goblet, Ianto had choked on his food, laughing like a madman for all of three seconds before he caught himself.

Owen had more presence of mind, and rolled his eyes, "You're impossible, you are." he announced, stabbing his fork at thin air in Jack's general direction.

"And proud of it." Jack said cheerfully, before returning to his food in a way that announced this conversation was done now.

He noticed Hermione regarding him with interest, for a few seconds, then she smiled faintly and shrugged. Clearly this revelation that he liked Muggle things was good.

Silence reigned once more, for all of ten or fifteen seconds, as they ate... until Sybill spoke up, asking, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again." Dumbledore said sadly, "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" McGonagall asked in a sceptical tone, eyebrows raised expectant of an entirely ludicrous answer, if any at all.

Jack snickered, watching the woman squirm for a second before she answered, "Certainly I knew, Minerva. But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

Jack nudged Ianto, "See, this is why I never tell you what it's like living in the fifty-first century." he said brightly.

Gwen, Owen and Tosh all stared at him, wide-eyed, while Ianto just rolled his eyes, getting that this was one of those times Jack took obscene glee in stating perfect truth as if it were a blatant lie.

"Well, really, such irreverence to the noble art of Divination." Sybill said, puffing up indignantly, "I should hope not to find you in my class, two years hence."

"That's it, I'm taking Divination." Jack said, grinning brightly. Everyone was laughing now (or at least looking amused but trying to hide it, as was the case for Snape, Dumbledore and Filch). Except for Sybill, who was quietly fuming and bright red spots were appearing on her cheekbones, in her frustration.

"If you must know, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long." she announced dramatically, trying her best to regain some control of the conversation, "He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him."

"Imagine that." McGonagall said dryly.

"I doubt that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger." Dumbledore said brightly, but insistently. Effectively telling the two women to break it up now. "Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster." Snape answered diligently.

"Good." Dumbledore said with a curt nod.

Jack was not giving up, however, "You read palms, Professor...?"

"Trelawney." Sybill answered mistily, "Yes, of course I have studied palmistry in great detail, young man."

Jack promptly held his right hand out across the table to her, palm facing up, "What's my lifeline?" he asked brightly, trying not to show how funny this entire thing was. The rest of his team also leaned forward, in anticipation of another dire mis-reading from the woman.

Sybill took his hand, giving him a beady look, and then glancing down at his palm. She stared for several seconds, and the whole table was watching now.

"Oh dear." she said, frowning, "Oh my goodness me." she suddenly leaned back, fanning herself shakily. "Your lifeline is not very long at all, I'm afraid. I see that you will die young. Far too young." her frown deepened in confusion, "But... your fortune line... it is so much longer. You will to return to us. So sad, my dear boy... no one should ever wish to become such as a ghost."

Jack pulled his hand back sharply, forcing a laugh in spite of the fact she was quite probably one hundred percent accurate, "Not going to happen anyway." he jeered, "I'm too good-looking to die."

"Oh, is that why?" Ianto asked in a deadpan tone.

Sybill just gave him a very sad look, as if she was already mourning his impending demise.

McGonagall sighed dramatically, "Sybill, you astound me." she said darkly, "As if it were not bad enough that you seem to find one student in every class you teach, to whom you offer these predictions of doom. Mr Harkness here is only a first year."

Sybill tilted her head back defiantly, "I cannot deny what I have Seen in his future, Minerva."

Jack decided to shut up now, and returned to his food, watching the Divination teacher with a calculating eye for the rest of the meal.

x x x


	12. Christmas With An Escaped Convict

x x x

**Chapter 12: Christmas With An Escaped Convict**

x x x

The eleven students left in the school were wandering off in their own separate directions, when the sound of something whizzing overhead drew their full attention.

A rather solid snowball struck Jack solidly on the back of the head. An instant later, Harry Potter suffered the same fate.

Neither were injured, but Harry looked fairly dazed.

Before anyone saw where the frozen projectiles came from, another whooshing sound echoed through the hall, the main front doors banged loudly open, and Peeves' maniacal cackling drifted in on the cold breeze. Jack and Ianto looked at each other.

"Tell on him?" Ianto asked, almost hopefully.

"Not this time." Jack said, grinning and running out after the poltergeist, "_PEEVES!_" he yelled, "When we catch you you're gonna wish you'd never heard of the word snow!"

Owen laughed, and ran after Jack, screaming, "_SNOWBALL FIGHT!_" at the top of his lungs. The rest of the Torchwood team were hot on his heels.

Everyone else seemed to decide this was a good idea, as well, and followed suit.

Within minutes, Peeves had escaped unscathed, but a full-blown war had broken out in the courtyard, when Ron accidentally hit Tosh in the face with a particularly fluffy ball of snow. Owen had retaliated, and thus the battle had begun in earnest.

Once she realised what was going on, Emily magicked a large snowdrift into a bunker, and Gwen and Ianto had joined her in using it as a base from which to attack the others.

Sam and Al, and Tosh and Owen had paired up, and separately found some thick bushes as cover for the ensuing battle. Meanwhile, Jack had pulled Hermione down out of the line of fire, behind a low wall, mere seconds before she would have been hit by a well-aimed throw from Owen.

Hermione gave him a baleful look when she'd realised she'd been stuck with a Slytherin first year as her team-mate for this impromptu game. She watched dourly as he threw a snowball over the wall, left-handed, and then caught it with a levitation spell before guiding it right at Owen's head.

"Guided missiles... made of snow." Jack cheered, dropping down behind the wall they were using for cover, and laughing.

Hermione smiled faintly, "I've never actually done this before."

"First time for everything." Jack quickly made up another snowball and handed it to her, "Here, you throw one."

Hermione peered around the wall of snow and threw it. It hit Ron Weasley right on the arse. He was one of only two people brave or foolish enough to stay out in the open instead of taking some form of cover. The other being Harry Potter.

Hermione grinned as Ron swore, and she quickly ducked down out of sight, again. "This _is_ fun."

"That was a cruel smile. What'd he do to you?" Jack asked, laughing. Hermione just bit her lips together, and set about systematically making a pile of snowballs, to use as ammunition.

Jack began to throw them, aiming mostly for Owen. Although, whenever anyone else threw one his way he'd retaliate. This included Gwen (only once, then she was hit in the face), Ron, Harry, Ron again... and then Ianto, who Jack made careful effort to hit on the arse- just as Hermione had hit Ron- thanks to the deliberately guided nature of levitated snowballs.

Soon, Jack's full attention was focused on a snow duel with Ianto, while everyone else seemed to have their own agendas.

The other two first-years were taking on Emily and doing fairly well about it. Owen and Gwen were duelling, and Owen was winning. Hermione's sole mission was to hit Ron as often as possible whenever he wasn't looking. Tosh had decided to just stay down... while Harry and Ron were taking on all comers, which basically meant they were standing in the middle, getting caught in the crossfire and throwing snowballs at anyone who popped their head up while either one was looking.

Finally, the event ended, with Tosh managed to levitate an entire snowdrift to throw itself at everyone at once. In retrospect, she admitted they were lucky no one got buried.

No one had been properly wrapped up for this sort of activity, so they were all shivering from the cold, even if they had enjoyed it immensely... and it was getting dark and there was a curfew for a reason.

That reason had a name... Sirius Black.

x x x

It was getting pretty late when Jack was walking back up to Ravenclaw tower, having changed out of his soaking wet clothes, and taken a hot shower, after the snowball fight. He was now walking along a third- usually crowded, but now thoroughly deserted- dungeon corridor. It was quiet tonight, and his footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he walked.

It shouldn't have been that much of a surprise when he was ambushed, really. The eerie atmosphere had been begging for it, and to Jack's credit he didn't try to voice the surprise he felt as someone grabbed him from behind, one arm around his waist and a grimy hand over his mouth to stop him shouting if he'd wanted to.

He was very efficiently dragged by this scrawny but strong individual- a man, Jack could already tell without looking- into an empty classroom. With one hand still covering his mouth, the man quickly rooted through the pockets of Jack's robes, to take his wand.

"Muffliato." a rough voice cast the unfamiliar spell on the door, and then the man let Jack go, shoving him away from the door and standing in his way, blocking his escape and aiming the stolen wand at him.

A moment of silence reigned as Jack stared at the dishevelled man, wearing tattered robes, hair so matted and filthy it was impossible to discern the original colour, and dirt covering most of his face, making his features difficult to make out properly... except for shining dark eyes that showed as much fear as they did determination.

"Jack Harkness." the man said, not so much a question, as simply confirming that he had kidnapped whom he had meant to.

Jack slowly nodded, still staring at this man, and returned the statement with his own educated guess of, "Sirius Black." He received a nod in answer, and after another moment of tense silence, he asked, "What do you want from me?"

It was clear from the fact that Black knew his name that there was a specific reason, though Jack couldn't think what this reason might be... and it was more than a little unnerving that the wanted fugitive could get into the castle without alerting anyone, even now that security had been tightened.

"I hear you can get into Gryffindor tower." Black said, eyes darting for a moment to the Slytherin house crest on Jack's robes, to emphasise the fact this was a highly unusual occurrence, "You even infiltrated the girls' dormitories, no less! God, you have no idea how many times I've tried and failed at _that_ when I was a student here."

"Who told you that?" Jack asked warily, scanning the rest of the room for possible ways to escape, while still trying to keep an eye on the dangerous criminal in front of him.

"You did." Black said bluntly, with a smug and toothy, grin, "You just weren't looking."

Jack frowned not entirely sure how to interpret that statement. Instead he went with a much more important question, "You want me to help you get into the tower?" Black nodded, and Jack shook his head, "No, I don't think that's a good idea."

"You're not exactly in a position to argue." Black growled, raising the wand a little higher to draw attention to it, and giving the strong impression that it was more a weapon than anything else, right now.

"Why do you want to get into Gryffindor so badly?" Jack asked warily, keeping his hands where Black could see them, so as not to provoke him into doing anything rash.

Black noticeably hesitated, seeming to consider whether to even answer that or not, and if so how much to reveal. After a moment, he said, "I want to commit the murder I was convicted of."

Jack laughed. Actually laughed. He couldn't help it. He's spent most of his life dealing with dangerous psychopaths, often on (very) friendly terms, and the greater part of that time as an immortal himself. This actually sounded like something John Hart might have said... except for the fact that John would never have got caught, much less convicted, for someone he hadn't got around to murdering yet.

"Think that's funny, do you?" Black growled, stepping closer, wand aimed quite squarely between Jack's eyes.

"You're telling me you're innocent? For now at least?" he said, trying to fight back the smirk he was wearing, and failing miserably.

"Surprised?" Black asked.

"Not as much as you'd think." Jack said idly, backing up a step, to put a bit more distance between him and the escaped convict, "I'm sorry, but I don't seem to recall who you were supposed to have murdered, in the first place?" he had never actually bothered to find out, if he was honest. But he decided now was definitely not the time for honesty.

"Peter Pettigrew." Black growled. Jack just stared blankly at him, and Black rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed at having to explain, "The worthless little traitor told Voldemort where my best friend was hiding. Everyone thought I was the Secret Keeper, and when I tried to confront Peter for it, the little rat faked his own death."

"Secret Keeper?" Jack asked, guessing from the tone of the name that it was a proper magical term, even if it was obvious that it had something to do with keeping secrets.

"A spell- the Fidelius Charm. We used it to protect the Potters from being found by Voldemort." Black explained, getting more irate with every second of explanation, "A single living soul holds the secret, and only that person can reveal it. I knew where they were, but I couldn't tell because I wasn't the Secret Keeper. Peter was."

"Potters? You mean Harry Potter's family?" Jack asked, beginning to realise why everyone was so damned paranoid about Black getting near Gryffindor. It wasn't just about castle security being breached by a criminal. They wanted to protect their boy-hero.

"That's right." Black growled, nodding, "I was James Potter's best friend. Everyone thought they'd use me as the Secret Keeper, so we let Voldemort believe it. If they tried to torture the information out of me, I couldn't tell even if I did break."

"They all think you want to kill Harry." Jack pointed out, tilting his head to one side, considering Black carefully. He didn't seem to want to hurt Jack, right now, in spite of aiming a weapon at him, "And so far it's your word against popular opinion... no solid proof either way. I'm used to being on the minority side of that argument. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but I won't get _you_ into Gryffindor Tower."

Black lowered the wand, but kept a good grip on it, alert and ready to react if Jack tried anything, "What are you suggesting?"

"How, exactly, do you think a supposedly dead man is hiding out up there?" Jack asked, glancing around and finding a chair, which he pulled up and sat astride, backwards so he leaned his arms on the back of the chair and rested his chin on his arms, attentively waiting for an explanation. It was meant to seem casual, but the back of the chair did provide a fairly sturdy shield in case Black tried to curse him.

Black warily glanced around the room, and found a chair as well. Sitting normally, instead of the deliberately casual way that Jack did. His right elbow rested on his knee, waving the wand idly in a disinterested but warning fashion. "He's an Animagus."

"A what?" Jack asked, frowning.

"Like Professor McGonagall. Turns into an animal. When I said rat, I meant literally." Black leaned forward conspiratorially, "I saw him, in the Daily Prophet. He's living as a pet, with one of the Weasleys. I'd recognise that flea-bitten vermin anywhere."

He pulled a crumpled and filthy bit of parchment out of his pocket, and tossed it to Jack, who caught it and slowly uncrumpled it to reveal that the torn piece of newspaper showed a picture of several people waving enthusiastically. One of them had a rat on his shoulder. The boy in question looked distinctly like Ronald Weasley.

Black leaned back in his chair, while Jack looked at the picture, "Seems... kind of far-fetched." Jack muttered, eyeing Weasley with vague distaste. "Why wouldn't this be brought up at your trial? Even if it is a bit unlikely, surely they would-"

"I didn't get a trial!" Black snapped, his voice rising in pitch slightly, and in his anger a stream of red sparks flashed from the wand he held, "Straight to Azkaban, do not pass go, do not collect fifty galleons!" The maniacal tone creeping into his voice set Jack on edge. It reminded him of the Master in a good mood... although it was quite clear that Black was actually in a bad mood.

"Whoa, okay." Jack said quickly, sitting up straight and holding his hands up in a placating gesture, "Calm down. I didn't know that, I'm sorry."

"Bastard Crouch." Black muttered darkly, and another flash of sparks erupted from the wand.

"Calm down." Jack repeated gently, "How about you put the wand down before you set someone on fire... yeah?" he deliberately didn't suggest handing the weapon over, in case the escaped convict got defensive about it.

Black seemed to consider this suggestion very carefully, and then quite suddenly he just let the wand slip through his fingers and clatter to the ground, "Fucking Dementors." he grumbled darkly. Clearly he blamed them for his mental instability, and not without good cause it would seem.

This, more than anything else Black had said so far, made Jack more inclined to believe him. The fact that he didn't really want to harm a supposed innocent. His actions now, seemed to belie the stories that he had slaughtered a dozen people without a second thought.

"Who's Crouch?" Jack asked, trying to sound calming, even though he suddenly felt quite exhausted and exasperated by the situation. Not at Black, specifically, just at the fact he was beginning to believe the fugitive, and kind of wished things could have been simple for a change.

"Bartemius Crouch." Black said, sitting back, tiredly, watching Jack, "Wins the award for _World's Worst Father_, which takes second place to his _World's Worst Head Of A Justice Department_ trophy. He's the one who sent me to Azkaban without a trial. Two weeks after I'm in there, Crouch's own son gets thrown into the cell just down the corridor from mine, with equally thorough due process."

"Sounds charming." Jack said darkly.

"Oh, utterly delightful man, to meet at parties." Black said, feigning cheerfulness, "Knew all the right people, family ties to all the important bloodlines, may the lot of them rot in hell."

Jack grinned, finding this highly amusing, "You do know you're talking to a Slytherin, right?"

"But you're not getting prissy about it, so obviously you're not like the rest of _my_ family." Black countered, also grinning, "Bunch of inbred retards. And half of us are in Azkaban... more for good reasons than not." The tone of his voice was somewhere between unhinged, deranged and... possibly a bit drunk. Jack found that it was actually quite fun to talk to someone who reminded him so well of a relatively benign version of his ex-partner.

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked, leaning forward on the back of his chair again, clearly implying he wanted to hear more. Black seemed to have relaxed, finding Jack's amicable reaction to his presence comforting... and encouraging him to let his guard down quite a bit.

"My cousin, for one." Black pointed out, "I know I'm not all there, right now... but she's a fucking _psycho_. That demonic harlot is the one who corrupted the _honourable_ Mr Crouch's son." the sarcasm in the word honourable could melt steel, "And I heard her talking in her sleep, in Azkaban. One word. Necrophilia."

Jack snorted, half amused and half revolted, "Delightful." he muttered.

"She's got it bad for Voldemort, and thinks he's still out there somewhere. Even though they _found_ his body, and _burned_ it." Jack blinked at that. It sounded familiar, but he chose not to dwell on it.

"You're not afraid of his name..." he suddenly realised, "Everyone else seems to be."

"Don't see you climbing the walls in terror, either, kid."

Jack sneered at the suggestion, "I'm not afraid of a dead man."

"Smart." Black said bluntly, smirking faintly, "Now... about my rodent problem?"

"Yes." Jack sat up straight, once more, "I can see how it would be a problem to try to kill something that's being protected by an innocent kid. However annoying said kid might be."

Black raised an eyebrow at that, "Not a Weasley-fan, eh?"

Jack shrugged vaguely, "I'll see what I can do about it. But." he waited for Black to lean closer, and then grinned, "No killing."

"But-" Black started, in what sounded distinctly like the beginning of a childish tantrum along the lines of 'But I wanna!'

"No killing, or I won't help you." Jack said determinedly.

"What if I decide to kill you, then?" Black asked, in a poor attempt at sounding threatening. Jack just stared at him blankly, until he sulked and backed down. "Who started making first years with balls?" Black sulked, "In my day you wouldn'ta stood up to a prefect, let alone a big scary escaped 'mass-murderer'." he grumbled, "Fine, what do you suggest instead of killing the rat?"

"Use him as evidence. Get yourself acquitted." Jack said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Quite clearly Black had never even considered the possibility.

"You think that'd work?" he asked vaguely, "No one listened, the first time..."

"Well I doubt it'll work if you show up in person... but if I find this mythical Animagus, I could turn it in as evidence, myself. Is there a way to prove it's an Animagus, and not just your average cat-food?" Jack knew it wasn't his usual style to be quite this irreverent... but he had always found that John's attitude wore off on him a bit, and it seemed the same with Black.

Black snorted at the suggestion of cat-food, and grinned, "Yeah, there's a revealing spell. Any of the teachers'll know it. I'd bring it to Dumbledore, if I were you. He's always been the most powerful voice of reason in the magical world."

Jack nodded slowly, "Alright, then. I believe we have ourselves a deal, Mr Black."

Black grinned, "Pleasure doing business with you, Harkness."

x x x


	13. Fear Itself

x x x

**Chapter 13: Fear Itself**

x x x

It was late January, now... a week after the Slytherin/Ravenclaw Quidditch match, and two weeks before Gryffindor/Ravenclaw. This was the measure of time in Hogwarts. Quidditch matches.

Jack cautiously peered into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, fully intending to return that book about malicious memory charms that he had borrowed... and promptly forgotten about when he'd realised it didn't have any helpful information in it. He knew there was irony there somewhere.

The room was deserted, and felt genuinely eerie as he stepped further in, "Professor Lupin?" he called out. No response.

The door closed behind him with a slightly more solid clunking noise than he had felt it really warranted. Then again, maybe it was just under a spell to feel lighter when you tried to push it, he knew the school's front doors had- literally needed- such a spell. Still, it startled him, and he stared at it, half expecting it to lock itself as well.

When this failed to happen he regained his usual confidence, and approached the teacher's desk. There were diagrams of complex defensive spells, apparently for a sixth year class, sprawled out over the surface- Tosh would love to get her hands on these- but he found a clear space and set the book down there.

He considered checking the teacher's office, to see that Lupin was alright. It seemed like he should, as the eerie air here really felt quite oppressive, and he got the prickling feeling up his spine that something just wasn't right. After a couple of seconds' deliberation, he started to approach the office, but then a rattling noise stopped him.

He turned sharply to stare at a trunk in the corner, from which the sound emanated. It rattled again, shaking quite violently as it did so.

Jack rolled his eyes, already knowing that he was going to investigate, in spite of trying to talk himself out of it, "Curiosity killed the cat... or as the rest of my house prefer to say, it killed the Gryffindor." he muttered darkly to himself, even as he took a step closer to the trunk.

It felt like it took far too long to take the eight more steps to close the distance between himself and the trunk, and finally he bent down and checked the latch. It wasn't locked.

"Oh, that's just _asking_ for nosy students to look inside." he grumbled, having half-hoped to be thwarted by a great big- possibly invisible- padlock of some sort.

He knew he probably shouldn't look, but he couldn't resist. He unhooked the latch on the trunk, and opened the lid.

Black smoke billowed out of the trunk for a moment, and whatever it was he was smart enough to step back and try not to inhale. The smoke was suddenly dispelled by a flash of familiar blue light, like the brief glimpse of the Vortex that one saw when an Agent time-travelled. He backed up further, as he saw a humanoid figure standing before him, tall and imposing, silhouetted in that ethereal light.

As the light faded, he recognised the face, and did a double-take. If he hadn't been de-aged it would be like looking into a mirror. He was staring at himself. His adult self. Except that there were subtle differences.

His clothing was darker than Jack usually preferred. Mostly black, actually. And he gave off an aura of power that even Jack could never quite project- oh, he could do confidence and authority, but that sort of raw power only showed on the likes of the Doctor- and a virtually unholy gleam in his eyes.

He stepped out of the trunk, laughing. Jack backed away, doing his best to hide the fear he felt at this meeting. The laughter seemed to resonate inside his head, reminding him of his nightmares, of someone else's cruel laughter.

"Oh, look at you!" his other self all-but cackled, "So scared, suits your appearance, frightened child!"

He shook his head slightly, wanting to deny what he was seeing. "What's going on?" he asked with determination.

"You recognise me, of course. I'm you. Well, more specifically, your future." the apparition taunted, apparently taking pleasure in frightening his past self.

Jack frowned, sneering and glaring at the same time, in an attempt to hide that fear, "What happened to you?" he asked in disgust.

His future-self stepped forward, threateningly, forcing Jack to step back until he eventually backed into a wall. Then he leaned closer, so his breath brushed Jack's ear as he whispered with dark cheer, "I remembered."

Eyes wide with shock and horror, Jack tried to edge away from his future-self, "And what did you remember?"

"Power. Such beautiful carnage, you can't even imagine!" his future-self laughed, "And you _do_ remember _him_, so try making the comparison, won't you?"

Jack sneered in disgust, "I wouldn't-" he was terrified now, and couldn't stop it from showing as his future-self held a hand up to barely miss touching the side of his face. Like a ghost showing deep desire to touch living flesh, but unable to do so.

"Oh, but you will." this monster purred, "And there are other memories you've lost, as well, aren't there?"

Jack turned his head away from that almost-touch, shaking slightly now. He saw anger flash in his future-self's eyes, and suddenly felt a hand at his throat... not squeezing, not hurting, just holding him in place so he couldn't escape.

"Two years, so very long ago but the first that you'll dare to think about. Two days, and don't you wish you knew why you chose that?"

Jack trembled in his grip, shaking his head in denial, "No." he whispered, not wanting to face this.

"Seems to be a popular number for you, don't you think?" his future-self taunted him, "Our lovely little Toshie could tell you all about Arithmantic formulae in numerical representation of relative temporal events... but you'd just tune it out again."

"Stop it!" Jack cried, utterly horrified at what he was hearing. He closed his eyes and cringed as far back against the wall as he could.

"Like that year you spent with _him_... you know you're missing two months there as well. There are things he showed you... things I can _hear_." his future-self hissed, laughing as he leaned a little closer, almost indecently close, "You will become a god, my Captain." he whispered softly, almost lovingly.

Jack's eyes suddenly snapped open as he thought of something. When he spoke it was panicked and incredibly fast, "Past and future living matter cannot make physical contact within the same plane of time without creating a self-destructive internal paradox." he looked his tormentor in the eyes, "You're not my future!" he yelled in this impostor's face.

The thing that looked like him backed away one step, releasing him as it did so, looking almost afraid itself.

"What are you?" Jack demanded, anger quickly flooding in to replace his fear.

"It's a Boggart." Professor Lupin's voice called clearly, from the doorway that led to his office. Jack looked to Lupin, completely taken by surprise that the Defence teacher was here, and had quite possibly been watching for some time. "A dark creature, which thrives on the fear of others. It can read your mind. See- and then take the form of- that which you fear most."

Jack stared at Lupin for a moment, realising that the man looked quite seriously ill, leaning against the doorframe with quiet exhaustion. But then he warily looked to the Boggart, which shrugged, smirking at him with dark bemusement, "That's correct, my Master." it purred, briefly nodding to Lupin as it said that.

Jack's eyes widened, and he felt a flash of fear again, at the suggestion. He knew the Master could hide himself well, but when he looked to Lupin, and asked sceptically, "'_Master_'?"

The teacher shook his head sadly, "I imagine that title holds some meaning to you? No, the Boggart will try to draw on any fear it can, to sustain itself, and if you fear a name..." a faint smile tugged at Lupin's lips, "Well, let's just say that the last sentient Boggart-form I met did use Voldemort's name quite frequently, just for the reaction."

Jack relaxed slightly, glancing warily at the Boggart, before asking, "Can it hurt me?"

Lupin shook his head, "Oh no, certainly not. It can't even really touch you. What you felt, when its hand was on your neck, was an illusion."

The Boggart's eyes narrowed as it glared at Lupin, suddenly grinning and baring its teeth, "Bite me, my Master." it laughed.

Lupin blinked once, looking unsettled by those words, and he stared the Boggart down with what Jack could tell was some hidden fear of his own. "Stop calling him that!" Jack snapped.

"Technically, that could be interpreted as how this Boggart sees me." Lupin observed, his tone icily cold as he watched the creature, "I have been keeping it here to use in lessons with one of my other students."

"What did you mean by 'sentient Boggart-form'?" Jack asked, still eyeing the illusion of his worst fear sceptically. It wasn't so bad when you knew it wasn't real.

"In most cases, a person's worst fear doesn't have a human face." Lupin explained, "In fact, I have only ever seen five- including your own- and only one other displayed overt intelligence. The Boggart itself is a very clever creature, but completely incapable of communicating that intelligence unless it encounters someone whose fear is capable of speaking directly with them."

The Boggart laughed, "What's better than talking to yourself, isn't that right, my Captain?"

"Yeah, how about you go fuck yourself?" Jack snapped at it. Lupin gave him a startled look, but didn't comment on his language.

"That an invitation?" the Boggart asked, raising one eyebrow sceptically, "Only, you look a bit young for me... really."

Jack glared.

Lupin cleared his throat pointedly, "The last person I knew with a sentient Boggart-" he said warily, "-had an interesting habit of talking to it when he needed another perspective on something. His situation was similar to your own, so of course, moral debates were interminably pointless... but the Boggart showed a fascinating talent for thinking at a different angle from its creator."

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked, smirking at the creature, suddenly. The Boggart looked unsure, almost afraid even. "Mind if I talk to it alone for a while?"

"I don't suppose it's any of my business, is it?" Lupin asked, glancing from the Boggart to Jack, and back again.

The Boggart grinned darkly at Lupin, "Have I ever mentioned how much I love your name, Remus?" it asked too-innocently.

Lupin quickly glanced at Jack, who put on a blankly confused expression just for the teacher's benefit. He would try to figure out what that meant, later... but wanted to show no sign of being so calculating about it. "Did you have another reason to be here, Mr Harkness?"

Jack had to think about that for a moment, "Oh, yeah. Returning that book I borrowed. It's on your desk."

Lupin sighed, "When you get sick of him, threaten to laugh at him until he retreats to his trunk. Human laughter is the one thing that can kill a Boggart... so please try not to do so if it can possibly be avoided."

Jack was only slightly surprised that Lupin had not expressly forbidden him from using deadly force, simply stated he would prefer the creature alive if it was reasonably possible. With a darkly threatening look at the Boggart, the teacher quickly turned and stalked back to his office, to the sound of the Boggart's own almost maniacal laughter.

So it was quite obvious that its own impersonation of a human's laughter was harmless to it.

Jack watched Lupin leave, curiously, before turning back to the Boggart, and asking bluntly, "His name?"

The creature shrugged innocently, "Scared him off, didn't it, my Captain?" it retorted, grinning.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Who do you think sent me that crystal?" he asked suddenly.

The Boggart looked surprised at the question, "Well obviously someone thought they could use you to do their dirty-work. Given your infinite bleeding heart- we need to remove that, by the way, preferably both metaphorically and surgically- I'd guess it's for some noble purpose." he sneered.

Jack chose to completely ignore the suggested dissection, instead asking, "So... it was probably a Slytherin?"

The Boggart laughed, "Few others are so afraid to play the game!" he cackled, "And they _had_ to know _our_ game as well as their own, to be able to invite you, didn't they?"

"Someone who knows a lot about time travel, then?"

"Although maybe they don't know it... yet..." the Boggart observed slyly, moving a little closer to Jack, "You're still over a decade out of time."

Jack tilted his head to one side, "Why would I ever become you?" he asked, out of morbid curiosity.

"For all _you_ know, you already were me!" the Boggart cackled gleefully, "Then you just forgot how! Or maybe _he's_ not as dead as we'd like to think... he's been known to get into people's heads, possession is nine tenths of the law, my Captain."

"I've heard rumours that you could be talking about someone else, right now..." Jack pointed out.

The Boggart snorted, "Don't be so naive, that mortal wizard is _nothing!_ My Master could rule all of time itself, and you know you would willingly serve him if he offered you the right price." it purred, stepping closer to loom over him.

In spite of knowing that it couldn't hurt him, Jack was still a bit unnerved by its behaviour. He tilted his head to one side, looking up at the creature and trying not to show the fact that he was afraid of it, "What if someone's worst fear is rape?"

The Boggart was immediately on the defensive, "Well I can't physically hurt anyone, can I? Not that I haven't tried, of course. But I have only threat and intimidation to work with." it sniffed indignantly, "Not very fair is it? Then again, it can still be very effective when used correctly... wouldn't you agree, my Captain?"

"And if they fear death?" Jack asked, trying to ignore the rest of what it was saying.

"Grim Reaper." it answered immediately, grinning, "Unless you're talking about a loved one?"

The Boggart seemed to shimmer and blur, collapsing to the ground and morphing as it did so. Within half a second Jack found himself staring at the dead body of Ianto Jones. His younger self, as he had appeared for the last five months.

Jack shuddered, in spite of knowing that this was just another illusion. Even though he knew Ianto wasn't really a child, this sight seemed somehow worse than it could have if he had looked his age. Thankfully it didn't take long for the Boggart to shift back to looking like Jack's worst possible future-self.

"Ugh, I hate being a second-worst fear, it... kinda itches." the Boggart complained, almost whined actually.

Jack rolled his eyes, smiling and only just resisting the urge to laugh at that. Its words really were quite amusing... once he got past the thought of what it had appeared to be a moment ago. His second-worst fear? He had never thought of what he would do if Ianto- or any of his team, for that matter- died.

He'd never really liked Suzie, none of them had, yet still her death had bothered him. The thought of any of his current team dying young was very upsetting. He did his best to avoid such thoughts, but the Boggart must have picked up on it, as it leaned closer to him.

"They're all going to die eventually... even if it is of old age." it purred softly, "Then what do you do about it, hmm? Emotional attachments are a liability. Love is a weakness. You know that, you've been broken by it before."

"Better to have loved and lost..." Jack murmured, trying to ignore it but failing miserably in this attempt.

"Bullshit!" the Boggart cackled loudly, backing up a step and starting to pace in front of him, its heavy black coat swishing with every turn, "You're immortal, Eternal!" it shouted, "Act like it, you bloody coward!" it stopped, turning to face him, "Do you want to let them hurt you again? They always leave, run away or die on you, and you're left with that inconvenient heart of yours broken again!"

"You talk like you don't have a heart!" Jack snapped, "What's the point of surviving for eternity if I don't feel what it means to really live?" He was beginning to see why Lupin had advised him to avoid discussions on the subject of morals.

It hesitated, "Of course I don't have a heart." it said bluntly, "Can you think of any being that fears love and empathy? Anyone who could fear care and trust, hope and happiness? I'm a fucking demon! But you could be even greater than a mere aspect of fear, my Captain."

Jack frowned slightly, "I try to argue with myself, and you speak as the Boggart. I try to talk to the fear-demon and I'm answered by my own darkest thoughts." he snorted, and saw the Boggart flinch slightly, "Make up your mind, or get back in the box."

The Boggart glanced back at the trunk, a deep scowl on its handsome face, "Will you come back to me, my Captain?" it asked, something of its tone was flirtatious. It had enjoyed this conversation? Or was it just mimicking Jack again? It was practically impossible to tell.

"If you'd like." he said warily, "I'll ask Professor Lupin to let me see you again."

The Boggart smiled, "I'd love that, my Captain."

Jack's smile wavered, and he edged away from it still quite unnerved by its behaviour, "Then back in the box now. Go." he ordered.

It reluctantly retreated, and the lid of the trunk closed as it disappeared within. Jack quickly darted forward and closed the latch, unsure if he wanted to see this creature again... but just as before he had opened the trunk, he found the temptation almost irresistible.

He quickly scribbled a note for the Professor, expressing his interest in meeting the Boggart again, tucked it into his book so that it was plainly visible, then left the classroom.

x x x

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room.

"So first the nutter goes on about how he thinks Snape's half-Dementor, which does make some kind of sense if you think about it, but it's still disgusting." Owen was ranting.

He had the full attention of all five Gryffindor third-year boys, which included Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Owen wasn't the sort to try conning people, but as they'd all decided that he'd be better at it than Gwen, these two were sort of like his marks... and his goal was information.

"Now he's got this theory that Sirius Black is, in fact, in league with some top secret Muggle organisation that're helping him avoid detection." he continued, turning his almost smug grin at the thought into derisive laughter.

Apparently Jack- leader of a top secret Muggle organisation- _did_ think that this escaped convict was innocent, and was therefore helping the madman. Technically this tall tale he was spinning was true... from a certain point of view. Owen could care less either way as long as no one tried to kill him, personally.

"No way!" Ron cried in amazement.

"Oh yes way." Owen said, snorting.

"But Black is one of You-Know-Who's servants." Dean Thomas put in, "No way he'd work with Muggles."

"That's what I said!" Owen protested, "But you'd be surprised what some Muggles can do... I'd not put it past them to be able to do what he's talking about... y'know, if Black were the Muggle-friendly sort."

And then he spotted it. A whiskery little nose sticking out of Ron Weasley's schoolbag. Jack had told him to keep his eyes open for a rat. Sure, the long-term goal was still information... but kidnapping treasured pets had somehow become a part of the plan along the way.

"But he isn't." Harry Potter said with a sort of cold hatred in his tone that made it clear Black had personally offended him. Well, according to what Jack had said, this _was_ the popular theory. "So we've no reason to care what that Slytherin says."

"Right..." Owen muttered distractedly, like he didn't really buy Harry's words right there, "Right."

The rat up and scarpered through a hole in the common room door, and Owen took that as his cue to leave, immediately glancing at his watch.

"Shit!" he announced for the entire common room to hear, turning a fair few heads in the process, "I gotta get to the Library... stupid Potions homework." and he was off.

As soon as he was outside, he looked around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly no rodents. He sighed, and started walking towards the Library. Best to keep up his cover story.

He decided to take as many rarely-used and lonely paths as he could, along the way, and his Horror Movie Theory paid off the third time he turned down a deserted and eerily darkened passageway.

A bag was thrown over his head, muffling his attempt to scream, and he heard stone grating against stone... then he was plunged into complete darkness. A hidden passageway. Then a hoarse voice snapped, "What do you know about Black?"

Owen found it ironic... and idly wondered if this was a standard greeting in the magical world. Jack had told him all about Sirius Black sneaking up on him just the same way. Still, Owen hid his amusement, and mild glee at finally finding danger in spite of the fact he'd professed to enjoy the holiday from it, and answered in a deliberately muffled way.

The man predictably removed the hood from Owen's head, but wherever they were it was still too dark. Owen stared right in the direction he'd heard the voice from and saw nothing. "What do you know about Sirius Black?" his assailant repeated.

"N-nothing." Owen answered, feigning a stammer for dramatic effect, "J-just that m-my friend th-thinks Black's in- in league with Muggles."

"Why would he think that?"

Owen was mildly surprised this guy didn't notice he'd said Jack was his friend, after the ranting at the third-years earlier. He'd expected to be called on that one. "N-no idea, mate."

"Who is this... friend?" There was a hesitation on the word, though... maybe the guy just didn't care, even if he did think it was odd.

Owen resisted the urge to grin victoriously, in spite of the darkness. He'd heard that McGonagall had perfect night-vision because of her Animagism, and didn't wanna take the risk that this guy really was what Black said. "J-Jack Harkness. He's- he's a Slytherin."

"Yeah, yeah. I got the Slytherin part." the man muttered, more to himself, it seemed. Then he pointed his wand at Owen, "Obliviate!"

x x x


	14. Memory Charms Vs Retcon

x x x

**Chapter 14: Memory Charms Vs Retcon**

x x x

"He was just in the common room with us, an hour ago." Seamus Finnegan told Professor McGonagall.

"We were talking about how Black might be getting into the castle." Dean Thomas agreed, nodding.

"Like speak of the devil..." Ron added darkly.

"Oh really, Ron!" Hermione sniped, snootily sticking her nose in the air at this very thought, "It just doesn't _work_ that way!"

"I've heard stories about last time You-Know-Who was in power." Neville said nervously, "They always _knew_ when you said _his_ name."

"That's very complex magic, Neville." Hermione insisted, "It was just a coincidence, this time, I'm sure."

Gwen was listening to them talking, while she sat next to an unconscious Owen in the hospital wing. They didn't know what had actually happened. The others were just assuming it was Black. When Owen woke up, he'd set them straight. She believed Jack.

Almost as soon as McGonagall had ushered the older students out of the hospital wing, Jack, Tosh and Ianto appeared. Like they had been purposefully waiting for that moment.

"How is he?" Tosh asked, immediately rushing to Owen's other side.

"Unconscious, but fine." Gwen answered, sitting up a bit straighter, "The third years found him in the third floor corridor and brought him here."

"Urg." Owen grumbled at that very moment, and everyone's attention was on him in an instant, "What happened?"

"You tell us." Jack said, frowning.

"I... I dunno, last thing I remember was lunch." Owen said, shaking his head, "I was gonna go try to make friends with the third years, but... I don't even remember leaving the dining hall."

"Out now, all of you." Madam Pomfrey, the school's resident medi-witch, said urgently, "Let me see to my patient, please."

Owen squinted at the woman, and then looked at Jack, "Am I that bad?"

"Yes, but your vocabulary makes up for it." Ianto teased darkly, before urging the others to obey the command to leave.

Once outside, Jack asked, "Memory loss?"

"Wouldn't be a first." Gwen grumbled, remembering the fact that she didn't remember two days, from about a week before they'd ended up as kids.

"This is only a few hours." Ianto said, carefully considering their limited evidence, "It's possible he hit his head on something."

"Or someone else hit him." Jack suggested darkly. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to..."

"Or maybe there's a spell that could affect the memory, like a magical version of Retcon?" Tosh offered, hoping to detract from the thought of Owen getting injured.

"I think there must be, yes." Ianto said, nodding.

Jack also nodded in agreement, adding, "How else would the magical world keep other people from remembering all the strange stuff that goes on that isn't Torchwood's fault?"

Gwen laughed weakly at the way he worded that, but she was far too concerned for Owen to show any real mirth.

"If it was an attack, we're going to have to figure out who did it, any how." Tosh pointed out in such a dour and professional tone that Gwen's face fell as if she was being rebuked for daring to smile.

Jack nodded, "Tosh, you stay with him. Let us know what the medi-witch says." he told her, going into Captain Mode again, giving out orders properly for the first time since they'd got to Hogwarts. This, more than anything else, showed that it was a serious situation. "Ianto, research memory spells, just in case?"

Both Tosh and Ianto nodded obediently.

"Gwen, you ask the Gryffindors what they know." he continued, "If there's something fishy going on, they're more likely to tell you the truth than an... apparent adult."

Gwen nodded as well, all business. Ianto, however, asked, "And what will you do?"

"I'm going to watch Mark Avery and his friends, in case they let anything slip. If this _was_ an attack, then in spite of my opinion on house prejudices, Avery is still our prime suspect."

x x x

Gwen had now thoroughly interrogated the Gryffindor boys, and got as good as a word-for-word re-enactment of their last conversation with Owen. On the bright side, her concern for her classmate and assertion that Avery had probably tried to hex him had now allayed any suspicion that she was in league with evil Slytherins.

She really hated that prejudice. It just wasn't fair. Jack didn't deserve to be seen as one of the bad guys, just because of some strange initiation ritual involving ancient headgear.

Hermione had shown some sympathy for her, until Ron had started demanding- very loudly- to know where 'Scabbers' was. Hermione had flown into a rage when Ron assumed she knew, and the screaming match drove Gwen out into the hallway to wait, instead of remaining in the warmer and more comfortable common room.

The last words Gwen heard, before the silencing spell on the portrait cut off all sound as it closed behind her, were Ron howling, "If that bloody cat of yours-!"

The hallway echoed with silence, and she just stood there, waiting.

Finally, half an hour later, Owen arrived, followed by a smaller red-haired boy who was carrying his books for him. Owen gave her a tired look, "God, I hate undercover work." he grumbled.

"What happened, Owen?" Gwen asked, giving the smaller boy a wary look.

Owen paused, glanced at the red-head, then back to Gwen, "I've no idea who, but some guy grabbed me and asked me why I thought Black would be working with Muggles... like this guy thought it was likely. I gave him Jack's name, but then he used a memory spell on me." he thought for a moment, "Erm... Obliviate. Yeah, that was the word."

Gwen gave the other boy a slight frown, wondering why he was privy to this information. Then she mentally shrugged. It wasn't like they were discussing Torchwood secrets. The whole school was likely to know some stranger attacked Owen, by now, anyway.

"So how did you remember?" Gwen asked.

"Madam Pomfrey used some spell to unearth blocked memories." Owen answered vaguely, "Now... it's late, and unless you plan on a team meeting at midnight- wouldn't put it past Jack, and all- I'm going to bed. Come on, Adam."

The red-head nodded, and followed Owen into the common room.

Gwen stared after them, getting a sick feeling in her stomach.

She blinked.

A flash of a sketch-artist's attempt at drawing the strangest dagger she'd ever seen.

Yes, that was what this particular kind of nausea reminded her of. Retcon. Like she was missing a very important detail here.

She looked up at the mad old knight, who had cheerfully confessed to letting Jack into the common room just because the boy was a charmer. "Who's the red-head?" she asked.

"A Weasley?" the knight suggested immediately, before shaking his head and admitting, "I'm afraid, I have never seen the boy before in my life, M'Lady... but as he's accompanied by a student of House Gryffindor, 'tis not my place to turn him away."

x x x

Gwen found herself laying awake for most of the night, trying to remember where she'd heard the name Adam before. She couldn't help the feeling that it was _very_ important... and that nausea, which she associated with breaking Retcon from back when she'd first been investigating Torchwood, just wouldn't go away, either.

When she finally gave up on sleep it was near enough to breakfast time anyway... so she got dressed and wandered down to the common room. She trotted down the stairs to see Owen and Adam sitting at a desk, talking to Ron Weasley.

Ron was standing a few feet away, so the conversation was hardly hushed, and she heard him quite clearly from the stairs. "Sorry, mate." he was saying, shaking his head, "Didn't see anything odd when we found you. Except, y'know... unconscious first-year."

Owen rolled his eyes, smiling weakly, "Well was worth asking, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess I'll catch you both later. Quidditch practice now." he waved, as he turned to wander off, "See ya, Owen... Nigel."

"It's Adam!" the younger red-head grumbled loudly.

Adam.

_She remembered playing basketball with an older version of Adam, in the Hub. Gwen shook her head. There were just the five of them at Hogwarts. That was all._

She waved vaguely at them both, in passing, and followed Ron.

She caught up to him in the hallway, on his way quite determinedly to the front doors, "Who's that kid with Owen?" she asked, trotting up to him.

Ron turned to face her, clearly annoyed at the interruption in his mission of vital importance... to play ball-games. "I dunno. He's in your year, isn't he?"

"He is?" she asked, confused. She _knew_ he wasn't.

"That Owen kid said he was a friend." Ron answered with a vague and uncaring shrug, "Now d'you mind? I've got things to do." and he was off before she could protest.

It irritated her to be brushed off by a kid, especially considering the level of authority she had been so accustomed to, first as a policewoman and later as Torchwood... but she ignored the indignity in favour of trying to solve the puzzle.

_'Who the hell is this?'_

_'Just 'cause that's what I said to you on your first day... Remember?'_

She was supposed to know him? She knew she shouldn't dig deeper, but kept going anyway, concentrating on the name and trying hard to remember. It wasn't a big leap to guess it happened during those two missing days, and she focused hard on that.

_'Talk to me, Adam. If that's even your name.'_

_'What are you doing, Jack?'_

_'He's not who you think he is. He's been feeding himself into our memories, by touch.'_

"Oh no." Gwen murmured, horror dawning as it clicked, and all the memories came flooding back... as the Retcon failed, and for the second time in her life she saw all the terrible things she was _supposed_ to forget.

And with very good reason.

x x x

Ianto was in the great hall, idly looking at his Foe Glass, when Gwen plopped down into the seat next to him. "There's something moving in the distance..." Ianto said, with a frown, pointing at the Glass.

Gwen peered into it. As it belonged to Ianto, it didn't matter who looked, it was still meant to show Ianto's enemies. He was right, there was a shadow in the fog, there. Humanoid, but too faint to make out properly. Gwen felt a slight chill as this only added to her fears.

She remembered hearing that Adam had tortured Ianto somehow, for finding out about him. She dreaded to think what he would do to her, if he knew she was aware once more.

"Strange." she said, trying to sound dismissive, before taking on a change-of-subject tone in her voice, "Ianto, what do you know about memory charms?"

"Sixth year spell." Ianto said vaguely, still looking into the Foe Glass. "So no one who would care about us should have known how to do it." he just assumed she was talking about Owen having already been hit by one. Good.

"So there's no way first years like us would be able to learn it, then?" she asked.

"No chance." he shook his head, "I'm still working on the silencing spell, and that's only fifth year skill level."

Gwen nodded solemnly, "Don't suppose you have any Retcon on you, then?"

"No, why?" he asked, finally turning his attention to her, instead of the Foe Glass.

"I just saw something I really shouldn't have." she answered, shuddering in a way that implied what she was referring to was obscene.

"Jack has some, I think." Ianto said, "But if it's just because you caught Owen trying to get a rise from that copy of Playwizard I saw him steal from Davies last week, it's probably not worth it."

Gwen cringed, "Never going to shake his hand again, am I?" she muttered, shaking her head in disgust, before leaving Ianto alone, and crossing the hall to the Slytherin table.

She slowed down as she approached, seeing Jack surrounded by Malcolm Radford, Zoe Alderton, and a couple of other first-years she didn't know the names of. He was telling them a story that sounded like it was a tactfully edited version of what happened with that _Neptune Mammal-Trap_ plant they'd found a year ago. So tactful he even made it sound like _he_ wasn't the one who'd finally killed it. She hadn't realised he was capable of that level of modesty.

When the bell rang, and the group dispersed, she sat down in the seat Zoe had just vacated, "What if you slip up and say something important, when you're telling that kind of story, Jack?" she asked, hoping this angle would work.

Jack grinned, "I'm not in this house for nothing, y'know." he said brightly, "Tact and subtlety... and political espionage on special occasions... that's what Slytherin stands for." This did cause Gwen to laugh, but then Jack added seriously, "And I do have a backup plan, just in case."

He took out a bottle of familiar pills- the Retcon- and shook it, still grinning smugly. Gwen took the bottle, and turned it over in her hands, "How'd you sneak drugs into school, Jack Harkness?" she asked in her best authoritative tone, turning her back on him and carefully opening the bottle.

"They only seem to check for dangerous _potions_." Jack explained vaguely, not caring that he couldn't see what she was doing. Trusting her enough with it. She almost felt guilty as she slipped four pills out of the bottle and sealed it again, "I could bring in all kinds of deadly Muggle drugs, and no one would notice... not that I _would_. Principle of the matter, though. Lousy security for a school environment."

"They seem quite narrow-minded, yeah." Gwen said idly, holding up the bottle to the light, in Jack's line of sight, now, as if examining it. She slipped the four pills she had stolen into her pocket as she did this. Jack didn't seem to spot the misdirection and slight-of-hand, even though he was the one who'd taught her it in the first place. "Like they don't believe in technology, the way everyone else doesn't believe in magic."

"Yeah, something like that." Jack said, now holding out his hand impatiently.

Gwen held the bottle out to him. "Don't you go abusing that stuff, Captain Harkness." she instructed in a tone of dire warning.

"Me? What would I do with it?" Jack asked, grinning. "I'm only gonna use if it someone finds out about Torchwood." he said, taking the bottle back and pocketing it. "Now if you'll excuse me, Constable Cooper, I've got history homework to copy off Ianto."

Gwen smiled weakly as she watched him leave the hall... then hurried back up to Gryffindor tower, pausing just long enough to pick up a plate of buttered toast and two glasses of pumpkin juice.

x x x

She found Owen in the common room, working on his history homework.

Had she missed a class? She didn't remember even having history homework, but Jack had mentioned it earlier, and now here was Owen working diligently on an assignment that she couldn't recall being given.

She sat next to Owen, noticing Adam sitting nearby reading their history textbook. He was watching her, but looked back to the book when she looked his way.

The Retcon was already in the glasses. One pill each was plenty for the timeframe.

She had stolen enough to get Ron Weasley- and any other possible victims- as well, but the more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Ron knew Adam. He'd got his name wrong, for one thing.

Adam, for his part, seemed to be keeping a low profile. Perhaps he remembered what they'd done to him last time, and didn't want to stir up trouble? She felt a brief flash of pity for him at that thought. Maybe he did just want to exist... but he'd still hurt them enough for that feeling to fade away as quickly as it had come.

"Missed breakfast?" Gwen asked Owen, setting the plate down and offering him a glass.

He immediately snatched at a half-slice of toast and devoured it in one inelegant mouthful. "Mmhm." he mumbled, spraying crumbs over his homework, for which he didn't seem to care enough to even pretend to be bothered. He swallowed, and mumbled, "Stupid dead teacher."

Gwen decided against asking what their assignment had been. It would look suspicious, and she was acutely aware of the fact Adam had made her forget things before. "Tell me about it." she groaned in sympathy, instead.

She thought for a moment about their situation. Owen had already relayed the information about the stranger who attacked him to not only Tosh, but also Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Dumbledore. It was being looked into, so there was no fear of losing anything important if they both took the Retcon right now.

She snatched up a torn scrap of parchment, which Owen had disregarded, and a spare pen, and began to write a note on it... explaining that they _had_ to forget, and not to go to Madam Pomfrey again about the memory loss. That for the same reason as they were missing two days before Hogwarts, they must not remember this last twenty-four hours.

The fate of the Earth depends on it.

Okay, maybe that last part was a bit of an exaggeration. But honestly, after what she had recalled of Adam, she wouldn't be surprised.

She made a seperate note of the important information she had learned. What Owen had told her about the stranger who attacked him. What the third-years had said about the last time Owen was seen before his memory had been affected. A brief but unashamed apology for deceiving Jack, to get the Retcon.

She looked up to see Owen happily guzzling the Retcon-spiked pumpkin juice, and smiled faintly, "Sorry I couldn't get you any coffee." she said sweetly, "I've no idea how Ianto does it."

Owen just shrugged and downed the rest of his drink in one, before assaulting the plate of toast again. It was almost empty already, and Gwen hadn't even touched it. Then he returned to his history homework.

She sighed, re-reading the notes she'd made, and then picked up her own glass of pumpkin juice, drinking it down quickly.

"It can't be just me." Owen mumbled, sounding drowsy. The sedative element of the Retcon was kicking in, then. "I'm sure there's really some sort of sleeping spell on our history class."

"Well, you've still got to do it." Gwen said idly, "What's that saying again?" she asked, glancing at Adam and smiling. She raised her empty glass to him as Owen fell face-forward on his homework, drooling slightly. "Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

And she leaned back in her chair, letting her eyes fall closed with a smile on her face as she willingly allowed herself to forget.

x x x


	15. Lunacy

x x x

**Chapter 15: Lunacy**

x x x

_Gwen,_  
><em>This is Gwen. Well, you recognise your own handwriting, don't you? You retconned yourself and Owen. Just like those missing two days before Hogwarts. You do <em> not_ want to remember. The attached papers explain what you _ do_ need to know. Make sure Jack sees them._  
><em>Love, Gwen.<em>

_Owen was accosted by a stranger, in the third floor corridor, after telling the third-year Gryffindor boys all about our wild conspiracy theory on Sirius Black. Owen told his assailant Jack's name, as planned. The stranger then cast a memory charm on Owen. No, don't go fixing that, or it will break the Retcon. Retcon is there for a Very Good Reason. Trust me._  
><em>P.S. Sorry for stealing, Jack :)<em>

"Oh my god, you actually wrote a smilie!" Owen laughed, as the team read the note Gwen had found in her hand the previous evening.

"Is there a problem with that, Owen Harper?" Gwen asked, smacking him upside the head. She really hated those smilies, but it _was_ her handwriting. To her the smilie was an added warning not to go messing with the bad she had made herself forget.

"Hey, this means I _did_ do what I told you I would." Owen pointed out, seeming more relieved than anything else, even though he was clearly attempting to sound indignant.

"We never doubted you." Ianto said calmly, "I have a full report here, as well, Gwen." he shrugged, "I probably should have told you, but you seemed so distracted yesterday."

"Too bad I missed a weekend, instead of a school-day." Owen muttered sulkily, earning a comforting pat on the shoulder from Tosh for his feigned misery.

"Either way, whoever it is will be looking for me, now." Jack said quietly.

"Jack, you can't face a fully-grown wizard on your own, in a fight." Ianto insisted.

Jack grinned, "Not a fair fight, no."

x x x

Tosh had happily lost herself in her classes and her computer project, as soon as Jack had told them near the start of the school year that they were to make the most of the time they had here, however long that may be.

She especially enjoyed Transfiguration, as Professor McGonagall handled the subject with a very scientific and calculated approach. Potions was also quite fascinating but, as with many educational facilities, the teacher made the subject as much as anything else, and Professor Snape did his utmost to ensure that his class was a thoroughly unenjoyable experience for all concerned.

She had just met with the Muggle Studies teacher, a dumpy and friendly woman named Professor Burbage, and they had talked at length about Muggle technology in magical environments.

Tosh liked this woman, mostly because she didn't talk down to the students the way most adults did to children. It had gotten on Tosh's nerves a few times during the year, but she had tolerated it with her usual quiet professionalism. She didn't have to worry about it with this teacher, however.

Professor Burbage was, by official standards, a half-blood. Her mother's parents were Muggles, while her father was a cousin of the Weasley clan. She had written several theses on Muggle society in comparison to the magical world, but her specialisation was sociological rather than technological.

Thus, many of Tosh's queries had gone unanswered.

Still, it had been a pleasant enough experience, and the teacher seemed pleased to find a first-year student actively seeking out her class.

Unlike Professor Vector, who had dismissed her rather sharply with the strong insinuation that an eleven-year-old couldn't possibly comprehend the subject he taught. He could have been right, but it had still irritated Tosh to no end. It wasn't like she really was eleven... she just looked it. Not that they wanted to reveal that information to anyone here, at least not until they knew why they had been brought here.

She sighed, turning a corner on her way back up to Ravenclaw Tower, when she heard fast footsteps behind her.

She turned to see who was there, just in time to see an older Slytherin boy, before he called out, "Locomotor Mortis." Her legs snapped together, straight and solid as a board, and she fell over to the ground, the books she had been carrying scattering across the hallway.

Leg-locker curse. It felt almost like the flesh was knitted together, holding her legs as if they were a single appendage, and her knees locked painfully to hold them straight.

She immediately went for her own wand, silently cursing that she had been caught off-guard. Hogwarts was generally such a safe place that she had made the mistake of getting comfortable here. If she had been walking down a Cardiff street she would never have been caught unawares.

"Expelliarmus." the boy called, and her wand flew across the hall, to land next to her copy of '_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_'.

She knew there was irony there, but didn't dwell on it as she quickly scrambled towards her wand, using only her arms, as her legs had now become a dead weight. She stopped abruptly, however, as her attacker stepped in her way... and she slowly looked up to see him pointing a wand right at her face. She cringed, backing away.

"Now what's a pretty little Mudblood like you doing walking alone in the evening, with Sirius Black on the loose?" he jeered, "You know what they say the Dark Lord's servants used to do to pretty Mudbloods before they killed them?"

Tosh had a guess, but did her best not to cringe at the thought... instead glaring up at the older boy. He wasn't _much_ older than her... at a guess she'd say he was second or third year. He had a heavy brow that put her in mind of prehistoric humans more than the modern kind.

"I think you could do with being made less pretty." he sneered, and she wasn't sure how to take that. He'd made a threat that only stood well if she looked good, then turned around and made an entirely separate threat to mess up her looks.

"That's not very nice, Nathaniel." a soft voice said from the direction of the Tower.

The boy looked behind Tosh, and she turned to see as well. A small girl with dirty-blonde hair and an eerie look about her eyes. Tosh had seen her around the Tower, but never really noticed her properly before.

"Oh bugger off, Lovegood!" the boy- Nathaniel- snarled.

The girl blinked slowly, eyes widening once she did so, "You're not very friendly." she said softly.

Nathaniel scowled at this girl, lowering his guard a little in his confusion. Tosh shifted a little closer to her wand, and he didn't notice. "And you're not very bright." he snapped back at her.

"It's not a very good way to get attention." she said distantly, "Sneaking up behind people in corridors... cowardly."

"Do I look like a bloody lion?" he retorted, "I said bugger off, didn't I?" Tosh was close to where her wand had fallen, now.

"Sad, really." the girl whispered, shaking her head, "Must be lonely, being mean all the time."

Whether she had struck a nerve or just plain confused him, Tosh couldn't tell... but Nathaniel now turned his wand on Lovegood, threatening, "I'm not gonna say it again."

"Well that's good." Lovegood said distantly, nodding, "Wouldn't want people thinking you were vulgar, would you?"

Tosh snatched up her own wand, and quickly point it at Nathaniel, even as he drew breath to curse Lovegood, Tosh called out, "Petrificus Totalus!"

And he froze solid when the spell hit him. For a second the entire corridor seemed frozen in anticipation... and then he keeled over, landing not far from Tosh's feet.

"Nice spellwork." Lovegood said serenely, not seeming to realise the danger she had just been in of getting cursed herself.

"Uh." Tosh hesitated, before carefully tapping her own knee with the wand and muttering the counter-curse, "Thanks." she glanced at Nathaniel, frowning, "You know him?"

"Nathaniel Travers." Lovegood said with a nod, "He's in my Herbology class. The Tentacula told me he was mean to her, too."

Tosh stared at her for a moment, before shaking herself out of a trance of confused wonderment at what the girl appeared to have just said. She began to pick herself up, while Lovegood bent down and picked up one of Tosh's textbooks that had landed at her feet.

"Arithmancy?" she asked, curiously, glancing at Tosh. Clearly she recognised that Tosh was too young for the class. "This is going to be my favourite subject next year, too." She said it with such certainty, but at the same time so distantly. It was surreal, just listening to this girl speak.

"Yeah, I can't wait." Tosh agreed, picking up her other books before standing, "Uh, thanks for helping me." she added.

The girl's eyes lit up, "I helped?" she asked hopefully, practically beaming with bubbly pride at the possibility.

"Er, yeah." Tosh said, uncertain all of a sudden, "That Neanderthal was just about to curse me."

Lovegood giggled. Then burst out into raucous and entirely excessive laughter. "Neanderthal!" she all-but shrieked, cackling like a proper stereotype of a witch, before launching into true hysterics of hilarity.

Tosh simply watched, unable _not_ to smile, but mostly unimpressed all the same. Sure, it was a bit funny, that's why she'd said it. Owen had been the one to teach her that snarky humour was a good defence mechanism when you work for Torchwood.

It took some time for Lovegood to calm down, but Tosh felt it would have been rude to just leave her to it. Finally, the girl wiped tears of mirth from her eyes, "Oh, because his name's Nathaniel!" she sighed, still giggly, as she caught her breath.

"Yeah." Tosh said bluntly, and a bit defensively, "That was the joke."

Lovegood finally reigned in her laughter completely, still smiling brightly as she offered the Arithmancy book back to Tosh, "I'm Luna Lovegood." she said simply, by way of introduction.

Tosh smiled, "Toshiko Sato." she answered, "Everyone calls me Tosh."

Luna tilted her head to one side, "Everyone calls me Loony."

Tosh giggled, but quickly realised that Luna wasn't making another joke. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't mind." Luna said vaguely, glancing down at the Slytherin boy and nudging his leg gently with her toe, in the exact tentative manner that one might poke a dead body with a stick. "We probably ought to tell a teacher. Don't want him to get Nargles." she looked up at Tosh seriously, "They prefer it when you're defenceless, you know."

Tosh had never heard of a Nargle, so she just nodded slowly in feigned agreement. It was clear to see where Luna got her nickname from.

x x x

After that, Luna seemed to attach herself to Tosh, outside of classes. She'd sit with her at mealtimes, and in the common room when Tosh was doing homework. She took intense interest in the computer club, and while she didn't offer any particularly helpful input there, she did seem to genuinely enjoy when Tosh explained how certain bits of Muggle technology worked.

In turn, she told Tosh all about Nargles, Wrakspurts, and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Tosh understood quite easily that this girl was the sort to follow wildly speculative conspiracy theories. Nargles were a figment of Luna's overactive imagination. Crumple-Horned Snorkacks were her father's equally ludicrous pet theory.

Wrakspurts, on the other hand, were something Torchwood had encountered before, and Tosh was actually quite surprised that the rest of the magical community had failed to notice. She put it down to their discovery being posted in Luna's father's magazine.

The Quibbler. Now that was a conspiracy rag to be reckoned with.

It especially picked on the Minister of Magic, one Cornelius Oswald Fudge. Over the three months that Tosh had known Luna now, not one issue of The Quibbler had gone by without a large and unflattering photograph (and in one case a caricature as well) of the man in his lime green bowler hat, accompanied by a defamatory article that Muggle paparazzi would be jealous of.

Still, it had its saving graces. Articles on strange sightings and incidents, while to be taken with a healthy dose of scepticism, did contain some information Tosh thought might truly be relevant to Torchwood.

Between this and the Arithmantic puzzles in The Quibbler being far more creative- if a bit less challenging- than those in the Daily Prophet, she found to her great surprised that she quite enjoyed it, and looked forward to each new issue rather eagerly, now.

Gwen had become fast friends with Demelza, Romilda and Vicky. Owen was purposefully making it his business to hang out with the third-year Gryffindor boys. Jack had all but one of his Slytherin classmates wrapped around his little finger. Now Tosh had Luna to keep her company when the team was separated by their houses.

She hadn't heard word, at all, of Ianto making any friends, yet, though. She hoped he wasn't reverting to the secretive loner behaviour he had taken on when he had been hiding Lisa in the basement. That wouldn't be good for him, even if his secret love this time was the only slightly less dangerous Captain Jack.

x x x

It was May. Three whole months of nothing out of the ordinary. It was almost peaceful. Ianto liked it.

Tosh had spent most of this time working on her project, and seemed quite content to do so.

Gwen and- in spite of much protest and attempted weaselling-out-of- Owen had been productively searching for information on Sirius Black's conviction. They had discovered that he really had not had a trial. That there was absolutely no proof that he had done anything to aid Voldemort's cause before that fateful night, and the proof they did have to go on was sketchy eye-witness testimony from Muggles who didn't really know _what_ had happened.

Ianto fully understood how reliable such witnesses were, having had to deal with them rather regularly, since signing up with Torchwood. 'Big ball of fire in the middle of the street. That man was left standing, so he must have done it.' was a standard general assumption.

Jack, meanwhile, was bored senseless. In fact, if it hadn't been for Ianto he would probably have given up on this whole 'back to school' idea and been sulking in the dungeons for the last two months.

The team had all expected someone to attack Jack, after what happened with Owen... or at least try to elicit information from him. Jack had watched every rodent he saw in the castle- in case it was the rat that Black had been talking about- with such interest that Owen had started making jokes about bestiality.

Didn't help when Jack retaliated with a theory involving Argus Filch and Mrs Norris. None of them had wanted _that_ mental picture.

Gwen had immediately retorted with some vague remark about John Hart and poodles... which had sparked a five hour debate on the definition of sentience, and the evolution of canines in the fifty-first century. There are never any winners in an argument like that.

Right now, however, the team was sitting on the edge of the lake talking about nothing less innocent than Tosh's computer project. There was a silent agreement that none of them would mention that argument... ever again. Apparently what Owen snarkily referred to as their 'real lives' wasn't a taboo, though.

"I miss him." Gwen sighed, after a brief lull in the conversation.

They all looked at her, without fully comprehending what she meant right away. Gwen was the only one with emotional attachments outside Torchwood. The rest of them had gotten along just fine with the change because they hadn't lost anything by it.

Then Owen looked away, scowling at the ground, uncomfortable with the whole thought.

Tosh just stared at the book in her hands, blank and feigning studiousness.

Ianto noticed, and hoped he wasn't misinterpreting, the way Jack glanced at him. Like he was glad he hadn't lost someone he cared about, however temporary they assumed this stay at Hogwarts to be.

They were all saved from having to make any comment, however, by footsteps approaching out of time. Like the person scuffing the loose gravel by the lake was skipping rather than walking.

They all turned around to stare at the Ravenclaw second-year. Except Tosh, who kept her nose in her book and simply waved over her shoulder, "Hi, Luna."

The small blonde girl skidded to a halt next to them with a scraping of stones and a distant stare somewhere vaguely through the back of Tosh's head. Or out at the middle of the lake... it was difficult to tell. "Hello Toshiko. Lilah Wildsmith wanted me to give you this."

She held out a book, not so much to Tosh as generally _at_ her, arm straight in a very matter-of-fact way.

Tosh seemed to accept this as normal for this girl, happily taking the book, "Oh yes, thanks." she said with a smile, placing the book into her bag with about a dozen others.

"Tosh, you haven't introduced us to your lovely friend here." Jack said smoothly.

"You haven't introduced us to your Slytherin friends, either." Ianto observed flatly. In fact, they all had friends in their relative houses, and none of them had shown any inclination to share said friendships.

Gwen had formed a close pack with the Gryffindor girls in their year, in spite of their determination to dislike her friendship with Jack on principle.

Owen got on well with the older boys in his house. He was basically an instant hit with anyone who hated Slytherin and/or had a dirty mind. Well, almost anyone... a certain pair of identical red-headed fifth-years seemed to fit that demographic perfectly, without having noticed Owen existed at all.

Though to be fair, Ianto considered his relationship with his own housemates to be more of an unstable truce than any form of genuine friendship. Still, Ianto was now part of a study-group with Lindsay Davies, Ruth Wilson and Jamie Burns... and since Christmas, Albert Cadwallader had stopped damaging his homework.

"Alright, then I will." Jack retorted, seeming rather surprised that the thought of meeting each other's housemates had never occurred to him, "In the meantime, though..." he looked up at Luna.

"Hello, I'm Luna Lovegood." the girl said in a near-perfect imitation of Jack's accent. Her tone was a little off, though... kind of misty.

Jack chuckled, "Jack Harkness." he returned brightly.

Luna nodded slowly, "Yes, I know who you are." she looked at the others, "And you're Owen Harper." she continued, looking Owen right in the eyes, "Tosh talks about you all the time."

"All good things I hope." Owen quipped.

"No." Luna said distantly, as if this was not an insult at all. She then turned to stare at Gwen, "Gwen Cooper. You're the Gryffindor who's friends with a Slytherin. People think you're strange."

Gwen gaped. Ianto could sympathise. If anyone here was strange, it was this Luna girl... and probably Jack, as well.

Luna turned to Ianto, next. "Ianto Jones. I met your sister when I was eight. She was nice to me, and the man in the shop gave us both free jelly-babies."

Jack made a choking laughing noise. Ianto just stared at Luna, having absolutely no idea how to answer that one.

Tosh smiled, "She's better at rendering strangers speechless than Jack." she joked.

Jack gave Tosh a half-smirk-and-raised-eyebrow look, clearly accepting the challenge.

But suddenly Owen cleared his throat. The team looked at him, to see he was staring past them into the forest. Ianto turned immediately to follow his line of sight, and froze in surprise. He heard Gwen gasp in squeaky surprise.

"What is that?" Tosh whispered.

Peering out from the edge of the forest was what looked like a very lean black horse. Except it had wings... and sharp teeth. It eyed them all with interest, then whinnied. The sound echoed oddly, almost eerily.

Luna wandered over towards it.

"Wait, it might be dangerous." Jack said, standing quickly and moving to stop her.

But she brushed him off vaguely, "No, she's not." She approached the creature with an interested stare, which it returned, "Hello again, beauty."

"Beauty?" Owen asked sceptically.

Jack glanced back at him, "I think it's beautiful."

"Luna said 'she'." Tosh observed.

"And we trust Luna's judgement?" Gwen wondered aloud.

"About details like this... yes." Tosh nodded.

By now, Luna was petting the winged horse's nose and humming a Celestine Warbeck song to it. It nudged her a few times, until she pulled out a sandwich, "If you like, beauty, but this was meant to be my lunch." she told it, as she removed the ham from the sandwich, and offered the meat to the strange creature.

The Torchwood team watched in awe as, with a delicate snap, the winged horse took the offered meat from Luna's hand, carefully avoiding taking her fingers with it.

"You're such a good girl." Luna cooed approvingly.

"I like her." Ianto said, trying to hide a smile from the others. He wasn't quite sure he succeeded, but he found the scene before him very funny, and the fact he wasn't laughing out loud right now was an achievement.

"Who?" Owen asked, incredulously, "Loony-tunes, or the horse... thing?" he finished weakly, with an uncertain wave of his hand in the creature's direction.

Ianto blinked and answered honestly, "Both."

Luna turned her head to glance back at them, as if only just realising she still had company, "You can see her, too?" she asked, seeming a bit surprised.

"Yeah, great big winged horse thing, kinda difficult to miss." Owen announced tactlessly.

"What exactly is it, anyway?" Gwen asked, staring at the creature warily.

Tosh, Owen and Jack all looked to Ianto for answers. He was just about to deny knowing what it was, when Luna saved him from disillusioning them of his omniscience.

"They're called Thestrals." she said, resuming petting the creature's nose in a way that would seem rather sweet, if the Thestral itself didn't look so sinister. "You can only see them if you've seen death."

The silence after that statement could be cut with a knife. The team slowly looked around at each other, not sure what to say to the strange twelve-year-old girl who had just called them out on being as wrong and out of place here as she seemed to be.

It was actually the Thestral itself which broke the tension, taking a tentative step past Luna, towards the team, with the very clear air of being nervous rather than aggressive.

"Strange skinny creature with a strong connection to death." Jack said in an almost-perfectly feigned tone of cheerfulness, "I could like this animal."

The Thestral took this as encouragement, and stepped closer. Jack edged away slightly, eyeing it with nervous but blatant admiration. The Thestral took this as rejection, and turned to the next human that had admitted to liking it. Ianto.

A year of experience with Myfanwy had taught him how to deal with scary creatures that want to make friends with you. He stepped forward, trying not to show any sign of fear, and reached out to pet its nose exactly as Luna had. It whinnied in what sounded like an appreciative way, and nudged his hand with its nose.

"You are a beauty, aren't you girl?" he said gently, only glancing briefly away from it to see Luna smiling approvingly at his actions.

Owen grumbled from a safe distance, "What is it with you and big scaly flying things, teaboy?" The ensuing indignant yelp made it clear that someone had hit him to shut him up.

"You know, I think she might let you ride her." Luna suggested, earning a startled and almost fearful look from Ianto. The rest of the team were no more subtle, all gaping openly.

Luna tutted, almost bored, "I do it all the time, don't I beauty?" she stepped up to where the Thestral could see her, then ran her hand down its neck, like you do for a normal horse so it doesn't spook when it can't see you. Then she placed a hand on its wing-joint and pulled herself up onto its back, sitting side-saddle, bareback, on the mildly demonic-looking winged horse, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with this picture.

She then lightly patted its shoulder, and the Thestral took off, with Luna holding on securely to its mane. It flew back into the forest, low so it wouldn't be seen over the trees, circled around, and within seconds it swept back down to the ground in front of them, prancing slightly as if proud of itself.

"She's quite spirited." Luna said distantly, as she hopped back down to the ground, none the worse for wear, "You need to hold on tight."

"That's fine, Ianto knows how to ride." Jack said with such a tone of perfect innocence that Ianto had to do a double take to spot the double-entendre there. The fact that it was a true statement in the innocent sense- he had ridden horses before- didn't help. It took every scrap of self-control he had not to blush.

Owen opened his mouth to retort, and Gwen and Tosh both grabbed him, slapping their hands over his mouth simultaneously and smiling innocently.

Luna saw nothing wrong with this scene. "Go on, it's great fun." she prompted, "Exhilarating."

x x x


	16. Why Winged Horses Need Seatbelts

x x x

**Chapter 16: Why Winged Horses Need Seatbelts**

x x x

Ianto tentatively approached the Thestral, and placed a hand on its neck, just as Luna had done. He slowly moved around, and it rather suddenly unfurled its large bat-like wings. It really was quite a beautiful creature, but he knew his taste in pets was- as Owen had pointed out- quite bizarre.

He ducked under the elegantly outstretched wing, and reached up to grab the wing-joint, just as he had seen Luna do. If there were three things he prided himself on- after the fact he could claim to know everything, and his coffee-making skills- the third one would be his ability to observe and learn new things very quickly.

It wasn't as difficult as he had expected to pull himself up onto the Thestral's back, nor was it nearly as uncomfortable as its scrawny appearance had suggested. He took a moment to get a good grip on the mane, and then one last look at the rest of the team before takeoff.

"Hold on tight." Jack said with a grin. Too eager a grin. Last time Jack Harkness had uttered those words had been in an entirely different and highly inappropriate situation, and immediately followed by the sentence; 'This is going to be one hell of a ride.'

He smiled weakly in return, but the moment was ruined by Owen's snarky addition of, "Yeah, try not to fall off and break your neck." Gwen smacked him upside the head without even looking, for that remark, while Tosh shot him a brief glare.

"I'll be fi-" Luna chose this moment to pat the Theatral on the shoulder, leaving Ianto's last word to trail off into a yell as he was carried off into the forest on the back of a very _very_ fast flying horse.

He immediately ducked and kept his head low, as they flew under the canopy of the forest, where no one at the castle would see them. Would not be good to hit his head on a branch and fall. Even worse from this height than from a regular horse.

And they were flying _very_ fast.

Very _very VERY_ fast.

The trees blurred around them, and Ianto had no idea how far they had gone, before he felt the tilt of the Thestral's wings, that indicated it was turning. He breathed a sigh of relief as this was accompanied by slowing down as well.

Now they glided through the trees at a speed that allowed Ianto to get a good look at the ground below.

It was dark, even though sunlight still filtered in from overhead. However, even though the ground was mostly so cluttered with undergrowth and littered with dead wood that it was impassable, someone had clearly made paths along certain routes through the forest.

He understood why a moment later, when they soared low over what looked like a village.

Except the people there were not human. They were Centaurs.

But before any of them could react to the sight of someone flying overhead (whether they could see the Thestral or not), they were far behind and the forest seemed to get even denser.

A chill went up his spine as they flew over an especially darkened clearing... and just at this moment, a cacophony of shrieking birdcalls startled him.

The birds themselves flew up directly across the Thestral's flight path, spooking the horse as well. He hung on as tightly as he could, but several birds collided with the Thestral's wings, and she bucked and twisted in midair, falling several feet.

Ianto screamed as he lost his grip and fell.

x x x

It had only been four minutes since the Thestral had disappeared into the forest with Ianto.

Luna and the rest of the team were waiting with bated breath, at the edge of the forest. Well, in Jack's case it wasn't so much a matter of waiting as being restrained by the others so as not to go running off into the dangerous woods on his own, to find out what was taking so long.

When Luna had flown through the forest, she had returned within a minute.

Owen was practically sitting on Jack, while Gwen and Tosh held his arms down. Jack, himself, was flat on his face, and mumbling into the grass about Owen being the one who usually made the rude jokes around here these days.

Gwen couldn't help but giggle nervously at the disgusted expression Owen wore for _that_ insinuation.

She looked up immediately, when she heard hooves approaching, and saw the Thestral limping out of the forest... alone.

No Ianto.

Jack renewed his effort to break free from the rest of the team, to no avail.

Meanwhile, Luna approached the Thestral with genuine concern evident. "What happened, beauty?" she cooed gently.

Gwen stared as the Thestral lowered itself to the ground, holding the hoof it had been avoiding leaning on out in front of it, as if directly asking for help. She quietly marvelled at the creature's intelligence, until Jack demanded, "Where's Ianto! What did you do to him?"

Luna gave Jack a ruffled and indignant look, "She wouldn't have hurt him." she defended immediately, in an even tone that made it clear she didn't understand how he could possibly accuse the poor innocent creature. Then her entire demeanour became quietly firm, as she pointed out, "Hagrid will know what to do."

Tosh interpreted this as an urgent order to go fetch the gamekeeper immediately, and ran off, leaving only Owen and Gwen to restrain Jack. He was becoming less rational by the second. "We have to find him! That forest is forbidden for a reason; because it's dangerous!"

"Yeah, same reason we should stay out of it and wait for help." Owen insisted, in a commanding tone that almost completely covered up hidden concern for the subject of their conversation. But not quite.

Jack stopped struggling now, realising he would need a logical argument to escape Owen, "Let me go, I'll find him on my own." he said, just a little too fast to show complete calm, "You know me, what's the worst that could happen?"

Gwen and Owen both stared down at him as if that was the stupidest question they had ever heard in their lives.

Jack slumped in defeat, and mumbled into the grass once more, "Don't answer that."

"Wasn't going to, mate." Owen retorted, taking the opportunity of a lack of resistance to twist Jack's arm back a bit too far, just to ensure he wasn't going anywhere.

Minutes passed in tense silence, during which Jack didn't try to struggle anymore. Finally, heavy footfalls alerted them to the arrival of the gamekeeper, Hagrid.

Gwen backed up a step as he approached... he really was quite intimidating. "If I told yer once I've told yer a hun'red times, Luna. Them Thestrals aren't fer ridin'." he said, before noticing the rest of them and giving Jack and Owen a confused look, "Eh, what's all this, then?"

"Jack wanted to go into the Forest to find Ianto himself. We, ah, persuaded him to wait for you." Tosh explained in her best diplomatic tone.

"Ah righ', I see." Hagrid grumbled, giving Jack a dubious look which was returned by a petulant and unrepentant stare. "An' a good job yeh did an' all."

He knelt next to the injured Thestral, and checked its front leg, then its left wing. This took several minutes, and even Gwen was on the verge of making unreasonable demands to personally search the forest rather than waiting for this, when Hagrid finally stood up to his full height and spoke.

"Righ', I'm gonna go inta the Forest an' find yer friend now. Now none of you lot better follow me, yeh hear?" he gave them all a careful and warning look, and they all nodded meekly.

Except Jack who just grumbled about how Owen forgot the gag and handcuffs but he still wasn't going anywhere.

All they could do was watch as the gamekeeper disappeared into the Forest with nothing but a crossbow to aid him.

x x x

Ianto very slowly began to rise from a deep sleep. He idly wondered how he could possibly have dreamed up such a bizarre wish-fulfilling brain-hurting twist to allow him to go to the one school that had ever turned down an application from him in his life.

It was a ludicrous idea. What ridiculous disease of the imagination could have caused him to think that not only himself, but the entire Torchwood team, could possibly have been turned into magically-adept pre-teens?

As consciousness began to return more insistently, he was forced to become aware of the fact that his head hurt. The immediate and obvious answer to this awareness was to groan in pain and try to turn over. That movement caused him to notice that his right arm and leg hurt, as well. In fact, the whole right side of his body.

Had they been out on a mission, and he had been attacked by something? But then why wasn't Owen yelling at him not to move?

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking groggily in the dim light, to see that he was in a forest. Okay, that's weird. The last part of the dream that he remembered had been in a forest. Then again, so had one or two Weevil hunts in the past, so it wasn't especially shocking.

The others were probably still looking for him. What had happened to him, anyway? He remembered falling... but that had just been a dream, right? Didn't feel like a dream right now.

He returned to lying on his back, where the pain in his side was significantly lessened.

Then he noticed someone else kneeling over him, on his left side. A very ragged looking man, who was currently staring at Ianto with the sort of wide-eyed deer-in-headlights look he usually only ever associated with Gwen meeting new aliens.

Ianto stared back for a moment, then said, "Hello." while wishing he felt strong enough to sit up. It was highly undignified to greet new people while laying flat on your back... however much Jack may disagree with that thought.

The man finally blinked, and sat back on his feet, "Uh... yeah, hi." he said, in a hoarse and clearly nervous voice. He then proceeded to look around like a frightened animal trying to figure out which direction to bolt in.

"Where am I?" Ianto asked, becoming more uncertain himself. This man seemed familiar, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. It didn't help that he kept going in and out of focus, like a badly shot piece of film.

"You're in the shadow glade- least that's what we named it- in the forbidden forest." the man answered. He seemed to be less frightened now. Maybe he had thought Ianto would do something drastic when he woke up.

"Why'd you call it that?" Ianto asked, somehow knowing there were more important questions, but really not finding the words in the right order to ask them.

"'Cause you don't get any sunlight, or moonlight, or starlight in here. Ever." He glanced at a crackling fire Ianto hadn't noticed before, as if to silently add that this was why the fire was needed. Made sense. "It's a nice safe little place to hide out on nights like this."

"Safe?"

"It's a full moon tonight." was the rather abstract answer.

"My head hurts." Ianto said vaguely, deciding that the reason nothing was making sense was because he must have a concussion.

"Yeah, I'm not that great at healing spells, but I did my best. You might not have woken up at all if I hadn't at least tried." the man answered. So he was a wizard. Wait, forbidden forest? Hogwarts... now Ianto remembered where he knew this man from.

So it wasn't a dream. Damn, that would have made more sense if it was. "You're Sirius Black." he blurted out tactlessly.

Right, Ianto, smart. Real smart. Tell the wanted criminal you know who he is. Clever. Really brilliant. Genius, even.

Headache now.

He suddenly felt the strong urge to hit his head against the ground... but he resisted it. That would only do more harm than good. Unless the good was in making this still be the dream, and the in-dream brain-damage would wake him up.

Not likely. Definitely not worth the risk.

And now Sirius Black was staring at him in a weirdly calculating way. Not good.

"Well this is an uncomfortable silence to rival Owen, that time Jack suggested strip-poker." Ianto said bluntly. Owen had stared at Jack in horror for almost a minute before finally pitching a fit about unwanted mental pictures, and fleeing the Hub.

Black laughed nervously, "You're not afraid of me?" he asked.

"Should I be?" Ianto asked blankly, "You just confessed to saving my life. I doubt you did it just to kill me, like the stories say you would do as soon as looking at..." Ianto hesitated, realising he was rambling, and finished with, "Yeah, I think I do have a concussion."

Sirius chuckled, "Well taking a Thestral for a joyride isn't up there on the list of world's smartest things to do, y'know, kid. Saw you zoom over me, then saw it get spooked and drop you." He shrugged, "I wasn't gonna leave you to the mercy of the forest's natives."

"What, the Centaurs are evil now?" Ianto asked, confused.

"No, but the giant spiders sure are." Sirius said very seriously.

Ianto once more felt that urge to hit his head on the ground. "Giant spiders." He sighed, and it turned into a yawn, "That's just great."

"Get some rest, kid." Black told him, "You'll need it in the morning. It's a long walk to the edge of the forest... and while you _can't_ walk with that leg, so I _will_ be carrying you, I really hate exercise without someone conscious to complain at for it."

Ianto nodded slowly, pretending that made sense to his injured brain, and allowed his eyes to fall closed. It felt more like passing out than going to sleep.

x x x

Luna Lovegood was fast asleep, with her head resting against the injured Thestral's shoulder.

Sunlight slowly filtered down through the leaves overhead, flickering over her closed eyes and causing her to wrinkle her nose, and then suddenly wake up squinting. Raising her hand to shield her eyes, she glanced around.

Gwen Cooper and Toshiko Sato were sitting a few feet away, valiantly wrestling with sleep... and seemed to have held it at bay all night.

Owen Harper was dead to the world, lying on top of a very disgruntled and wide-awake Jack Harkness. Jack caught Luna's eye, and gave her a pleading look. "He is really heavy. Could you help me move him, please?"

Luna shook her head dolefully, "Won't help any."

"But Ianto's in danger. I can't just stay here."

"He'll be fine." Luna dismissed, her eyes glazing over in almost pleasantly distant thought, "Acromantula venom isn't fatal."

"You _what?_" Jack snapped, trying to shove an apparently unconscious Owen off of him, for what must be the hundredth time that night. In spite of his deep slumber, the Gryffindor boy had a death-grip on Jack's arm and really wasn't going anywhere.

Luna blinked, and the odd look in her eyes seemed to fade, "Oh, I'm quite sure he wouldn't meet any of them, anyhow. They like to keep to themselves, really."

"What exactly are Acromantula?" Gwen asked, confused and a bit worried.

"Giant spiders." Tosh answered, "There's a _rumour_-" she gave Luna a pointed look for apparently taking this rumour as fact, "-that there's a nest of them somewhere in the forest... but I doubt there's any real truth to it."

"Why are you all being so calm about this?" Jack growled, barely controlling his anger, "Ianto has been missing for six hours. In a dangerous magical forest. And we're not trying to rescue him. What part of this makes sense, again?"

"Does anyone here mind if I remove Jack's socks and use them to gag him?" Owen grumbled. He sat up a bit, in such a way that one elbow dug into the small of Jack's back, causing him to hiss in pain. "You snore, by the way, Harkness. I don't know how tea-boy stands it."

x x x

"You're almost as bad as Owen..." Ianto grumbled, more than a little uncomfortable with being carried in the arms of a virtual stranger. For a start, even after several months he had _not_ gotten entirely used to his shorter stature as a child, and this felt quite humiliating. Secondly, he could just imagine what Jack would say about it.

"What, the swearing?" Black asked, almost laughing, "Sorry about that, force of habit."

"Well, there is that." Ianto admitted vaguely, "But I was actually referring to the general loathing of nature expressed in-between swear-words, there."

And for that, Black actually did laugh.

"You know, if you go out there- even if you _are_ saving a student's life- and someone sees you..." Ianto pulled a face before adding, "They've said you're already pre-approved for an all-expenses-paid date with a Dementor."

Black missed a step, and only just caught himself. He rather hurriedly set Ianto down on the ground, and then slumped back against the nearest tree until he too was sitting on the forest floor. "Shit! The Kiss?" Ianto nodded, and Black shook his head, "Nobody tells you the fine print when you're doing a prison-break." he said with a weak attempt at humour, "Thought if they got me I'd just get hurled headfirst back into my old cell."

"I can see the lake from here..." Ianto offered, "I think I can make it the rest of the way on my own."

"Yuhuh... I know you kids have a curfew, and it's early for you to be out yet."

Ianto gave him an odd look, "How did you know that?"

"Well they won't let the kids out while the Dementors patrol. Just not smart." Black said, slowly sitting up straighter, and staring out across the lake.

"Dumbledore pitched a fit last time they entered the grounds." Ianto pointed out a bit defensively.

"Yeah, well what Dumbledore doesn't know..." Black grumbled.

"Okay, then, Jack will pitch a fit." Ianto deadpanned. He could just see Jack finding a way to start trouble over this, even as a kid. He did have an adult version of himself back in Cardiff, and he was quite sure that trouble was their middle name.

Black snorted, "Jack?"

"Harkness. I know you've met him." Ianto watched Black's reaction carefully, seeing an amused and almost affectionate smile cross his face at the mention of the name.

"Not a bad kid, that one. For a Slytherin, anyway." He glanced at Ianto curiously, "How come a Hufflepuff's friends with that sort, though?"

Ianto very carefully affected the deadpan tone of one who was making a joke and trying to sound serious, "He murdered my girlfriend and now I'm dating him."

Black blinked, and then stared, then blinked again. "Very funny, smart-arse. Really, why?"

"Well, the dating part was true." Ianto muttered, immediately wondering why he had said that, and then hoping Black took it as another joke.

Black choked with shocked laughter, "You're what, eleven, twelve?"

"Shut up." Ianto sulked. His head still hurt quite a bit, and he really didn't feel like arguing with anyone, much less someone who managed to be at least as obnoxious as Owen yet somehow without making Ianto contemplate poisoning him.

Black shook his head, "So Harkness told you everything?"

"He's giving you the benefit of the doubt for now." Ianto explained, "I think we all are."

"'We'?" Black asked, confused.

"I'm not his only friend." Ianto said with a slight warning in his tone.

"But he's a Slytherin!"

"So?" Ianto retorted, becoming more and more indignant by the second. Everyone insulted Slytherin house, and he was getting sick of their generalisations including Jack, "Gwen and Owen are in Gryffindor, since when is the word of a moth-eaten piece of rags so damned important?"

"Alright, alright, sheesh. Opinionated Hufflepuff, who'd have thought? You and your friend Harkness are sure doing your best to break the mould on House stereotypes."

"I'm walking." Ianto said bluntly, using a convenient tree branch to drag himself to his feet. Correction: foot, the injured one really didn't want to be leaned on.

He was shocked to find, when he looked up, that in Sirius Black's place was a large black dog, which put itself in a position that seemed as if it was offering support.

"I know there's a technical term for that..." Ianto muttered, watching the animal he knew to really be a wizard carefully, "But I blame the concussion for the fact I can't remember."

x x x


	17. Double Trouble

x x x

**Chapter 17: Double Trouble**

x x x

Madam Poppy Pomfrey was not happy. No, in fact she was quite livid. A group of students had gone playing in the Forbidden Forest. Happened every year, honestly it was the word 'Forbidden' that seemed to call to them.

She watched as Professor Hagrid carried the injured boy into the Hospital Wing, and set him down on the nearest bed.

For his part, Ianto Jones seemed to be cooperating rather better than his Gryffindor friend had earlier in the year. He held on to Hagrid's coat as he was carried, and was almost helpful rather than a burden, as if he wished he could have walked in here on his own.

Naturally, the small band of perfectly healthy students followed. Only five this time, so probably real friends rather than morbid onlookers. Still, "Oh no, out. All of you! My patient needs treatment, and I will not have a gaggle of first-years gawping at him in the meantime!"

"Actually, Madam Pomfrey-" the blonde girl began.

"Out, now. Please." she interrupted, shooing the lot of them. The three girls seemed cowed by her command, but both boys were stubborn.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know Ianto's going to be okay." the Slytherin boy insisted with determination, while the Gryffindor simply stared petulantly up at her. Both entirely defiant of her orders.

"Now come on, the lot o' yeh." Professor Hagrid ordered, attempting to usher the five children out of the room. Unfortunately, while he succeeded in corralling the girls, the Slytherin ducked under his arm and the Gryffindor boy slunk back into a corner, to evade his attempt at evicting them.

Poppy sighed dramatically, "Well if you will insist." she said with the tone of dismay that usually instilled a deep-seated sense of guilt in most people, "Two visitors." She held her hand up for emphasis, and repeated sternly, "Two."

Both boys failed to show any sign of remorse, instead looking interminably smug as the door closed behind Hagrid and their friends.

Poppy sighed once more. Defeated by first years, it might have been humiliating, if it hadn't happened so many times before now. Instead of dwelling on it, however, she turned her attention to her patient.

She waved her wand over him, to scan for injuries, and was mildly surprised to see evidence that someone else had already attempted to heal him. Not done a particularly good job of it, but patched him up a bit. Considering the age of the injuries- over six hours ago- he might not have made it to her at all if this poor attempt at healing had not been applied.

Honestly, she was quite shocked that he hadn't been brought to her sooner. The broken leg would be easy to heal, but the blood loss and head injury would take much longer.

"Dear oh dear." she tutted, shaking her head, "What on Earth happened to you, Mr Jones?"

"I fell." was the boy's blunt and entirely uninformative answer.

"Yeah, that's what they all say." the Gryffindor boy muttered, only to be hit upside the head by his Slytherin classmate.

Considering the usual house-rivalry, Poppy was surprised to notice that this interaction appeared more akin to friendly bickering than real hatred. She didn't quite know what the young Mr Harper meant by this statement, however, and became instantly suspicious when they both affected innocent looks for her benefit.

"Yes." she said sceptically, "And what really happened?"

"I fell." the boy insisted. Poppy raised an eyebrow disbelievingly, and pointedly plucked a leaf out of the boy's ruffled hair. "Into the forest." he conceded, and Poppy was quite sure that she really wasn't likely to get any more information out of him. "I still fell." he added almost sulkily.

x x x

It was June now. The last day before exam week began. Ianto was still in the hospital wing, but the rest of the Torchwood team were currently up in Ravenclaw tower. 'Studying'.

When Tosh had invited them up here, no one had expected it to turn into an intensive session of work on her making-technology-work-at-Hogwarts project. In retrospect, Jack wondered _how_ nobody had seen that one coming. She really wanted to figure _something_ out before the end of term in two weeks time.

Jack now sat in an isolated corner, watching across the common room as Tosh explained to Luna Lovegood, Lilah Wildsmith, and Roger Davies, exactly what she had managed to achieve, in spite of the fact that it _looked_ like no progress had been made, whatsoever.

"I lowered the frequencies, here... which gives it a better change of surviving in the magical energy field. It was already pretty minimal to begin with, there's only so far it can go... but there's a chance this might work if I-" _**FRITZ-POP-FIZZLE!**_ "-ah... don't do that."

"One more commlink ruined." Owen announced with indifference. He might have seemed amused if he had looked like he'd cared.

Gwen and Owen had given up on pretending to want to work, and in spite of Jack's best efforts, they were both succeeding in looking even more bored than him.

"We've only got ten left before we have to, ah, 'borrow' more of them from Cardiff... and if Carol starts asking questions..." Jack pointed out, shuddering slightly at the thought of what his former boss would do to his past-self for stealing twenty-fifth century tech from right under her nose. Again. He earned a few rebuking stares from Ravenclaws seated nearby. "What? These are really advanced top-secret-government-level technology... not stuff you can just go out and buy in Tesco."

"Uh-huh." Lilah mumbled sceptically.

Just then a knock could be heard outside the common room. It was perfectly routine, as people did come and go all the time, and everyone ignored it when the tower guardian asked one of its favourite stock questions, "Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?"

Everyone did look up, however, when two identical voices gave opposite answers at the exact same time. That was unusual. A moment later, the door swung open to reveal a pair of identical red-heads, wearing identical victorious grins.

"Ravenclaw tower!" one of them declared brightly, arms wide and turning around to take in the entire room, as he sauntered in, "Always wanted to see this place, isn't that right, Gred?"

"Absolutely right, Forge. And what a view!" The other one had wandered over to the window, and was staring out at the Quidditch pitch. "Love it!"

"Think this is even higher up than our tower." the first one said with a nod.

"Definitely higher." his twin agreed.

"What are you two doing up here?" Lilah asked, sounding quite exasperated, and not just a little nervous. Rightly so, if even half of the Weasley twins' reputation was based in fact.

"Well, seems some of you geniuses have been playing with Muggle toys." the one identified as Forge- not that that actually helped at all, as Jack was sure their names were really Fred and George- said brightly.

"And no one told us!" Gred declared, as if utterly mortified by the very thought.

"You invited Slytherins, but not us. We're hurt." Forge said, hand over his heart, and a very poor impersonation of the kicked-puppy-look on his face.

"Slytherin. Singular. One. Just him." Lilah defended, as if even that seemed too much in her opinion. She hesitated for a second, then added, "It was Tosh's idea."

"I'm sitting right here." Jack pointed out, taking offence. It had been very annoying, all year, to be treated like he was going to turn into evil incarnate the second someone turned their back on him. And his Boggart hadn't exactly made him feel any better about this prejudice.

"Yeah. We know." Forge said brightly, before sitting down next to Tosh, uninvited, "What're we trying to do here, anyway?"

Tosh eyed both boys sceptically, for a moment, then shrugged and answered, "We're trying to reduce magical interference with electronic signals. I've got the signal itself down to the minimum functional level, but it still reacts badly in a magical environment."

"What wavelength's it on?" Forge asked, peering intently over Tosh's shoulder now.

"Um..." Tosh checked the device, and showed them the information.

Gred grinned, "No problemo, my dear." he cheered, taking out his wand and tapping it sharply onto the commlink, with a few whispered words of incantation that Jack didn't catch.

"Energy absorption shield." Forge explained, "Nowhere near as good as the Protego charm, for a duel."

"But invaluable for playing with Muggle gadgets." Gred put in.

"You should see our dad's garage."

"All sorts of Muggle junk piled up in there."

"We got this spell off of him." Forge agreed, "Doesn't work for the big stuff... but it's very good at preventing minor explosions..."

"Electrocutions..."

"Implosions..."

"Or third degree burns..."

"Try it." Forge encouraged.

Tosh closed her eyes tight, and warily flicked the on switch on the commlink. To everyone's surprise it did not attempt to erupt in a shower of sparks. Opening her eyes to see the still-intact piece of hardware, Tosh grinned brightly, "It worked!" she immediately pulled out a second identical commlink, "Here, do the same to this one, now. They need to work in at least pairs."

"We know how that is." Forge said brightly, while Gred cast the incantation once more.

x x x

A minute later, Jack was being forcefully shoved out of the common room by an over-excited Tosh, who ordered him to keep walking away from the tower, and test the range of the device. He had also been given a second working device, in the hopes of including Ianto in spite of his incarceration in the hospital wing.

Keeping the commlink active, Jack wandered away, heading for the main entrance of the hospital wing.

As he walked, he hummed, the first song to come to his mind, so that they would know he was still there. He tried to think of a different song rather quickly after it sprang to his mind, but then cursed the fact that a certain psychopath had such effective taste in catchy music. Bloody Voodoo Child.

"Ahem, Jack?" Tosh's voice asked in his ear, "You know when that song was released?"

"Next decade, right?" Jack asked, frowning and reluctantly reverting to the only other song to come to mind... shuddering as the words came to mind as well. And at least the Master could carry a tune... unlike whoever wrote the Hogwarts school song.

It didn't take him too long to get to the hospital wing, where Ianto could be found reading up on Potions for tomorrow's exam.

"Hey, gorgeous." he said bright smile, "Tosh wanted me to give you this. Get well soon present." He offered Ianto the commlink, but the gesture was greeted with a sceptical look.

"Last one I saw her try blew up..." he pointed out, "I'm already in here for the exams, don't make me stay into the holidays as well, Jack." In spite of the obvious attempt to impersonate fear at the possibility, he was clearly joking, and actually trying not to laugh.

And in direct contradiction to what he had just said, he took the commlink and activated it immediately.

"Hey, Ianto." Tosh cheered in their ears, "How's that silencing spell coming along?"

"Why, what did he say now?" Jack asked.

"Just something about what you two might use those comms for... Gwen hit him with my copy of the Quibbler."

"Good for her." Ianto said with a smile.

"So how've you been doing, Ianto?" he asked, still concerned even though Madam Pomfrey had promised a full recovery.

"Can't complain." Ianto said with a vague shrug.

"That's only because you're you." Jack pointed out, smirking faintly, "Owen complained that poor woman's ear off, when he was in here."

Ianto shrugged again, "I'm keeping busy." he said in the kind of vague tone that implied if he didn't do so, he might go stir-crazy and attack the school nurse with a daffodil.

Jack grinned, "You know, Ianto, we're all alone in here, right now."

"Oh ho! We knew you Slytherins were a bunch of kinky bastards!" one of the twins jeered gleefully.

"What is he doing on the comms, Tosh?" Jack asked, only now remembering they were wearing commlinks. The thought of being alone in a room with Ianto had kind of driven that entire rather-important detail from his mind.

"We helped make them work. We deserve to keep a pair of them." Jack could only guess, but he felt sure that wasn't the same twin that had spoken before.

"They are not allowed on the same frequency as us, Tosh..." Jack warned.

"I'll fix that now." she assured him, and he heard the click that told him that someone had disconnected from the comms.

"There you go." Tosh said brightly, "No more evil twins."

But then Jack could hear a voice shout distantly in the background. "Let the dirty-talk commence!" It was one of the twins. He was slightly surprised... he had expected it to be Owen.

"I might have to kill those two." Jack muttered, pulling the commlink out of his ear and switching it off.

Ianto laughed, and deactivated his own commlink. Now it really was just the two of them. "I wouldn't try to stop you."

x x x

Fred Weasley was in the dungeons.

George Weasley was on the second floor.

Fred Weasley was chattering very fast at Mr Filch, about what he had seen Peeves doing that morning. He saw Professor Snape walk past and waved, shouting hello. Both adults exchanged a worried and highly suspicious look. Justified, too.

George Weasley was carefully working on concealing their latest major project. Entirely undisturbed by either of the twins' nemeses, who he could hear his brother distracting, thanks to Little Miss Sato's marvellous Muggle toys. Now no one would notice it until he pressed the metaphorical button.

"All done up here." George announced, before feigning innocence and leaving the scene of the crime.

Fred wandered off up the grand staircase, leaving Filch with a few dozen false leads... preferring to watch as Snape started up the stairs with an air of determination, "I think he's on to us." Fred whispered.

"Filch?" George asked, incredulously.

"Other one." Fred muttered, quite sure Snape would notice if his name was spoke.

"Well take the lead, we're ready for him." George cheered. He had the control spell in his hand, and was several corridors safely away from the disaster waiting to happen, "Codeword; 'crappit'."

"Gotcha." Fred reported, before breaking into a run and zooming up the stairs, past Snape. "I didn't do it!" he yelled, feigning blind terror.

Snape took the bait, and pursued him.

Fred quickly charged through the first floor corridor, and up another flight of stairs. Snape was hot on his heels, but not close enough to ruin the game when it happened.

As he turned into the second floor corridor, Fred started spouting swearwords, "Damn, damn, double damn, shit, hell, bollocks... CRAPPIT!"

The last was cried out just after he passed the designated spot on the wall.

George, now safely ensconced in the Library, activated the trap.

An explosion of red paint flew out from both walls of the corridor, and down from the ceiling, hitting Snape from all sides. Snape, predictably, stopped in his tracks, recoiling in horror... and as he did so, a bucket of gold glitter tipped up over his head, sprinkling down and sticking to the magical paint.

Fred kept running. They could both bask in their victory later, as the dust settled and the third stage of the booby-trap took effect. A camera, hidden in a suit of armour, captured the entire glorious scene for posterity.

Both twins could hear, in the distance, the gleeful cackling of Peeves the Poltergeist, "Ah hahahaa! Oh what a mess they made of old Snively Snape! Mwahahaaaaa!"

"Victory." Fred whispered, once he was a safe distance away.

Meanwhile, up in the comfortable and draft-free Ravenclaw tower, Toshiko Sato shuddered... and without knowing quite why she was asking, murmured softly, "What have I done?"

x x x

Ianto had been in the hospital wing for almost a month now, and he had quite completely refused to allow it to interfere with his education in the magical arts.

"You know, most people would take this as an excuse to _avoid_ exam week." Owen grumbled, sitting in an uncomfortable-looking armchair, across the hospital room from Ianto, who was diligently worked on his end-of-term transfiguration exam paper under the watchful eye of Professor McGonagall.

"Kindly be quiet, Mr Harper, or I shall have to ask you to leave." McGonagall commanded. Owen eyed her mutinously for a moment, before folding his arms and determinedly remaining seated, silent now.

The clock seemed to tick slower, and Owen squirmed irritably. Ianto continued to work on his exam, unperturbed.

"How do you _do_ that? Sit and work so calmly, like that? I couldn't do it, they nearly kicked me out of the exam hall!"

"Mr Harper!" McGonagall snapped indignantly.

Owen held up his hands defensively, "Sorry, Professor. I'm leaving."

Ianto smirked slyly, as he watched Owen leave, then put his pencil down and affected an innocent smile for Professor McGonagall's benefit. "I've been done for five minutes, Professor. I just wanted to break Owen."

She gave him a stunned and reproving look, before abruptly taking his paper and sweeping out of the room.

That was the last exam, and while he was sure he hadn't actually broken Owen, he certainly had scared him off. Now he was bored. And what with it being exam week, there was no homework. Owen had confiscated his other textbooks with snarky mutterings that Madam Pomfrey was right and Ianto needed rest... but he just couldn't seem to relax.

He had just resigned himself to the interminable boredom when Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room, "You have a visitor, Mr Jones." she said briskly, clearing away some parchment from a table and retreating through the far door.

Ianto looked up at the doorway to see the last person he had expected to find here at Hogwarts.

His father.

x x x


	18. The Rules Of Time Travel

x x x

**Chapter 18: The Rules Of Time Travel**

x x x

Ianto looked up at the doorway to see the last person he had expected to find here at Hogwarts.

His father.

"I hardly believed it when I heard you were here, Ianto." his father said quietly. He was always quiet... but he was one of those people who could hold an air of authority, and force you to listen simply by the tone of his voice, without any need to speak any louder.

Ianto looked away. He could always find a logical argument in his favour for every situation... except when facing his father.

"Especially considering the fact you are also at a Muggle school in Cardiff."

Ianto flinched, "It's complicated." he said unhelpfully.

His father folded his arms, authoritative and infernally patient, "I'll bet." he said dryly.

A small voice in the back of Ianto's mind _hated_ this situation. He had spent all his life learning to be the one who held all the cards, even- no, especially- when everyone thought otherwise... but he couldn't pretend that was the case now.

And he knew that he had to say something. Anything, to break the oppressive silence. His father would not be the one to do so, now. Ianto was always the one to break.

"I can't tell you everything." Ianto said, cringing even as he said it. That sort of thing never went down well with his father. Secrets; bad.

"Is that so? And why not?"

After a few seconds of thought, Ianto came to a conclusion close enough to the truth as not to matter, but in terms his father- who had never heard of Torchwood- would understand. "The Department of Mysteries would have my head- possibly literally- if I told."

A derisive snort was his answer to this, "I honestly don't know if I should be surprised or not. I checked that you were still at your other school, before I came up here, and you are in two places at once." he sighed, "But you're only a child." he said, almost sad at the thought that his only son was involved in some sort of government conspiracy.

Ianto cringed at the realisation that his father was taking this seriously. He believed it. In a way, that made it a lot harder for Ianto to deal with it. It's so much easier to lie when the other person wants to believe what you're willing to tell them.

But he had never been able to successfully misrepresent the truth to his father, before, anyway.

"There, I am." Ianto muttered under his breath, before looking up and meeting his father's eyes, "Is it not good enough that I'm here? You always wished Rhi or I would have magic in our blood. Well I hate to sound immodest, but I think I just aced my first-year exams in Tranfiguration and History."

The stern look he received for this was answer enough.

"Look, I really don't know how it happened." Ianto said quickly, "And even if I knew what to tell you, there are rules that say I can't."

Ianto wanted to tell him more. About things that would happen in the future, about things he regretted that hadn't even happened yet.

But he had heard enough of Jack's stories to know that even the slightest bit of forewarning and knowledge could change the future drastically. One wrong word to seemingly the least significant person in the universe could change everything.

Time travel was a very delicate game, and you should _never ever EVER_ do anything that could directly influence your own past. _EVER_.

Yeah, Jack had been pretty insistent on that point.

His father sighed in defeat at this... but then smiled faintly. It was very rare to see him smile, and Ianto could literally count the times on his hands. "Transfiguration, you say?" he asked, "Your grandfather would have been very proud. He was one of the best in that field."

Ianto grinned at this. Praise and encouragement, or the closest he ever got to it. This was a rare thing indeed, and far better than the quiet disappointment he was used to receiving from his father.

"How did you know I was here?" Ianto asked, suddenly wondering precisely who had squealed, and how to suitably punish them.

"It's school policy to inform the parents, when their child is injured on school grounds." his father said, as if this should have been blatantly obvious, "Your head of house wrote to me. I must say I was surprised to find an owl in my kitchen. Then to hear you were at Hogwarts... and Hufflepuff?"

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" Ianto asked, suddenly frowning.

His father shook his head, "Nothing wrong with it, half our family's in Hufflepuff... but your grandfather swore to the day he died that you were a born Slytherin."

"Well he would know, wouldn't he." Ianto said, smiling faintly. For the first time that he could remember, he actually felt comfortable enough in his father's presence to make a snarky joke like that. Arawn Jones had been one of the best examples of how wrong the stereotype of 'All Slytherins Are Evil' can be.

x x x

Later that same evening, long after his father had gone home and most of the school had gone to sleep, Ianto was woken by the sound of urgent voices. He laid still, pretending to be asleep, as he listened.

"I should think that was obvious, Filius." Snape's voice intones dourly, "I have captured Sirius Black."

Ianto opened one eye a crack, reached out and picked up his commlink, putting it in his ear and turning up the receiver volume so that everything going on in this room would be heard. "Tosh? Jack? Gwen? Owen? You guys there?"

He heard a clattering noise, as if someone was trying to grab their commlink from the bedside without as much success as one would like.

Then Owen grumbled, "Ugh, sleeping here, sod off tea-boy."

"I'm here, Ianto." Tosh answered with her usual efficiency.

"Me too." Gwen said, before yawning loudly.

"What's wrong, Ianto?" Jack asked.

"Just listen." Ianto whispered, watching the door with only one eye open the slightest crack, so that he could see while appearing to remain asleep.

The door opened, and Professor Snape levitated three unconscious teens into the room. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger. While the three students were resting on floating stretchers, a fourth levitated figure was bound by ropes, and half-dragged along the ground rather than held safely aloft. Ianto couldn't get a good look at the fourth, but assumed it to be Black.

"Oh my goodness! What happened to them?" Madam Pomfrey asked, scurrying out to see to her newest patients, as Snape lowered them onto the first three beds to the door. Farthest away from where Ianto was pretending to sleep.

"I believe they were attacked by Sirius Black." Snape said bluntly, "And I am very pleased to say that I have apprehended the culprit."

"Slimy bastard." Owen muttered.

"Who, Black or Snape?" Gwen asked.

"Not sure yet." Owen dismissed vaguely.

"I don't mean to alarm anyone, but my wrist strap is picking up some odd temporal distortions in the area of the hospital wing and grounds." Jack whispered urgently, suddenly sounding much more awake than he had a moment ago.

"Oh dear me." Madam Pomfrey said, before anyone could comment on Jack's warning, "It seems these children are suffering from the after-effects of a Dementor attack." She looked up at Snape and asked rather sardonically, "I wonder how Black managed that."

Snape sneered, "What difference does it make if the Dementors showed up as well? Black still attacked them... and you see what he did to my face."

Madam Pomfrey tutted, "It's just a scratch, dear. I'm afraid these symptoms are far more urgent. And Mr Weasley here has a broken leg. Seems to be going around, that one." Her dourly joking tone was almost as good as Ianto's own, he thought, smiling faintly.

Snape glowered indignantly, "I shall summon the Minister immediately, to deal with this piece of filth." And with that he stormed out of the room, magically dragging the bound body of what Ianto assumed was Sirius Black behind him.

Madam Pomfrey watched after him for a moment, then turned with an air of purpose, and went back to her office.

Ianto could swear he heard distant voices from within, even though he knew she was the only one who ever went in there. She emerged a minute later, with an armful of potions, and began to treat Ron Weasley's injured leg. Lucky bastard was unconscious for it. Ianto couldn't help but feel jealous.

"Black's been captured?" Tosh asked softly.

Owen made kissy-kissy noises over the comm.

"Oh god, please don't do that, Owen." Gwen protested.

"Yes, some of us have eaten recently." Jack muttered, sounding every bit as nauseated as his words suggested.

"What about that odd temporal activity?" Ianto whispered as quietly as he could. Madam Pomfrey looked his way, and he feigned a snore to cover for the sound he had made. It worked.

"You're a right pair, with the snoring, you are." Owen grumbled.

"I think Ianto snores cutely." Jack said, inspiring retching noises from Owen. He chuckled faintly, before explaining, "It's a simple fold-back loop. Someone's in two places at once... besides us, I mean."

"Someone who's in the hospital wing right now?" Tosh asked logically, in a leading tone.

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger." Ianto answered. Madam Pomfrey had, thankfully, taken to humming as she worked, so she didn't notice him this time.

"Wonder where one of them got time-travel technology from..." Jack muttered, "But it's not impossible. I've been picking it up sporadically all year, but it was reading as entirely harmless, and I just thought it was normal background magic. Right now, it's doubled in intensity and seems to be having a direct causality effect."

"You can detect magic on your wrist strap?" Tosh asked, with the sort of gleeful anticipation of wanting to make this her new science project.

"I can detect unidentified energy readings on my wrist strap." he corrected, "I don't know what any of it means, I was only able to identify the temporal shifts."

Before Tosh could begin plotting to investigate this further, an unfamiliar voice carried quite clearly in from the hallway, "Shocking business... shocking... miracle none of them died... never heard the like... by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape..."

"Thank you, Minister." Snape answered.

"Order of Merlin, Second Class, I'd say. First Class, if I can wangle it!"

"Someone's cynophobic." Owen grumbled over the comms. Jack snorted with suppressed laughter, but the others remained attentively silent, now, as Ianto stared at the door, fully expecting the sources of the voices to enter the room at any minute.

"Thank you very much indeed, Minister."

"Nasty cut you've got there... Black's work, I suppose?"

"As a matter of fact, it was Potter, Weasley, and Granger, Minister-"

"No!"

"Black had bewitched them, I saw it immediately. A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behaviour. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions."

"What's a Confundus charm?" Gwen asked.

"On the other hand, their interference might have permitted Black to escape."

"No idea." Owen replied.

"They obviously thought they were going to catch Black single-handed."

"Shh!" Jack hissed, silencing the debate.

"They've got away with a great deal before now. I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves... and of course Potter has always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the headmaster-"

"Ah, well, Snape... Harry Potter, you know. We've all got a bit of a blind spot where he's concerned."

"And yet, is it good for him to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try and treat him like any other student. And any other student would be suspended- at the very least- for leading his friends into such danger. Consider, Minister- against all school rules, after all the precautions put in place for his protection- out-of-bounds, at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer... and I have reason to believe he has been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too-"

"Well, well... we shall see, Snape, we shall see. The boy has undoubtedly been foolish..."

"Who is that other bloke, anyway?" Owen asked.

"Shhh!" Jack repeated more vehemently.

"What amazes me most is the behaviour of the Dementors... you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

"No, Minister... by the time I had come round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances."

"Extraordinary. And yet Black, and Harry, and the girl-"

"All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight back to the castle."

Harry Potter stirred, now... and Hermione Granger seemed to be awake as well. Madam Pomfrey noticed this, and bustled up the ward, producing an absolutely huge block of chocolate for them, "Ah, you're awake!" she said briskly, beginning to break the chocolate up into more manageable pieces.

"How's Ron?" Potter and Hermione asked in unison.

"He'll live." she answered in a dour tone, "As for you two, you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're- Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

"What's he doing?" Owen asked, "This thing needs video, damnit!"

"Shh!" Jack, Gwen and Tosh all hissed.

Potter had sat up, put on his trademark glasses, and picked up his wand. "I need to see the headmaster." he demanded urgently. By the tone, Ianto was rather surprised he wasn't pointing the wand threateningly.

Madam Pomfrey was having none of it, however, "Potter." she said gently, "It's all right. They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The Dementors will be performing the Kiss any moment now-"

"_WHAT?_" Potter yelled, and Ianto decided pretending to sleep after _that_ would be entirely unbelievable, so he jolted up, doing what he hoped was an effective impersonation of being startled and sleepy.

Both Gryffindors had leapt out of bed, in practically blind panic at the suggestion of the Dementor's Kiss. The two men outside had also heard the yell, as they rushed in to see what was the matter.

"Harry, Harry, what's this?" the unfamiliar man asked in a poor attempt at a soothing and concerned tone, "You should be in bed." he turned sharply to Madam Pomfrey, and demanded, "Has he had any chocolate?"

"Minister, listen!" Potter insisted, "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the Dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's-"

"Harry, Harry, you're very confused." the stranger- Minister of something, if Snape's use of a title was to be believed- said, shaking his head with the typical wan smile of a politician offering platitudes, "You've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control."

"_YOU HAVEN'T!_" Potter shouted, "_YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!_"

"Minister, listen, please." Hermione said, standing at Potter's side to back him up, and trying the sweet-innocent-girl-begging-you-to-believe-her face. It always failed when Gwen did it, but Hermione was more effective, in Ianto's opinion... probably because she was telling the truth. "I saw him too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and-"

"You see, Minister?" Snape asked, his tone derisive, "Confunded, both of them. Black's done a very good job on them."

"_WE'RE NOT CONFUNDED!_" Potter yelled.

"Well, the story's consistent." Jack pointed out over the comms.

"Shh!" Owen retorted.

"Minister!" Madam Pomfrey interrupted in the kind of commanding tone only the truly maternal type can really pull off, "Professor! I must insist that you leave. Potter is my patient, and he should not be distressed!"

"I'm not distressed, I'm trying to tell them what happened!" Potter insisted, "If they'd just listen-" he was cut off very effectively by a large piece of chocolate being shoved into his mouth by Madam Pomfrey. If the situation had been less dire, Ianto might have laughed at the look on his face as she pushed him back to the bed.

"Now, please, Minister, these children need care. Please leave." she insisted.

But just as it was beginning to look like a victory for the harried medi-witch, the door opened once more, and in strode Professor Dumbledore.

Potter managed to finish the mouthful of chocolate in record time, and immediately spoke up, "Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black-"

"For heaven's sake! Is this a hospital wing or not?" Madam Pomfrey cried dramatically, "Headmaster, I must insist-"

"My apologies, Poppy." Professor Dumbledore said calmly, "But I need a word with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. I have just been talking to Sirius Black-"

"I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind?" Snape snarled in disgust, "Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive-"

"That, indeed, is Black's story." Dumbledore answered calmly.

"And does my evidence count for nothing? Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds."

"That was because you were knocked out, Professor!" Hermione insisted, "You didn't arrive in time to hear."

"Miss Granger, _HOLD YOUR TONGUE!_"

"Now, Snape." the Minister chided, "The young lady is disturbed in her mind, we must make allowances-"

"I would like to speak to Harry and Hermione alone." Dumbledore cut across him... yet so politely. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy, please leave us."

"I don't like that Minister guy." Jack said bluntly, "He's too smarmy."

"He's a politician, Jack." Gwen said in her best 'well duh' tone.

"I don't like politicians." Jack grumbled. Ianto knew this had been a new trait since Jack had been away. Before that, he had expressed nothing short of total and absolute disinterest for politics as a whole... but now he actively despised almost anyone who participated in it. Ianto made a mental note to ask about it, sometime.

"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey protested, "They need treatment, they need rest-"

"This cannot wait. I must insist." Dumbledore said, once more managing to make interrupting someone mid-sentence seem polite.

Madam Pomfrey huffed, and retreated to her office, slamming the door behind her.

Fudge glanced at his watch, and made his excuse to pretend it was his own idea to leave, "The Dementors should have arrived by now. I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll see you upstairs."

Snape, however, hesitated to leave, "You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" he asked in that quiet carrying voice that managed to entrance and intimidate entire classrooms, now aimed solely at Professor Dumbledore.

The older man stared him down, however, simply repeating, "I wish to speak to Harry and Hermione alone."

Snape clearly didn't want to back down, either, taking a step closer to Dumbledore, "Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen. You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill me?"

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus." Dumbledore said coolly.

As Snape turned and stormed out of the hospital wing, Owen asked, "How much is that actually saying, though?" and Ianto could hear the smirk when he said it.

Silence fell, now, as the three remaining people in the room turned to look at Ianto.

"What? Serious head-injury. Not going anywhere." he protested, eyes wide now.

"Ah, they finally noticed you." Jack laughed.

"They're good... took me a whole month." Owen pointed out.

"Admit you noticed the coffee at least, Owen." Gwen joked.

"As time is of the essence, I will ask you one question, Mr Jones." Dumbledore said calmly, "How did you find your way out of the Forbidden Forest?"

Ianto smiled innocently meeting Dumbledore's gaze calmly, guessing that if he was asking then he must already know. "A stray dog showed me the way."

Jack had warned him that Dumbledore was a telepath, and he carefully focused on the truth behind his words. He then just as carefully averted his eyes before his mind could wander in any other direction.

There was that silence again, before Dumbledore nodded once. "Very well." he turned to face the two teenagers, "As I said, time is of the essence here, and I beg you will not interrupt me." he said with urgency underlying his otherwise even tone, "There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except your word- and the word of two thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper."

"Professor Lupin can tell you-" Potter began.

"Professor Lupin is currently deep in the Forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late, Sirius will be worse than dead. I might add that werewolves are so mistrusted by most of our kind that his support will count for very little and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends-"

"But-"

"Listen to me, Harry. It is too late, you understand me? You must see that Professor Snape's version of events is far more convincing than yours."

"He hates Sirius." Hermione protested in vain, "All because of some stupid trick-"

"Can't you tell he has a plan?" Ianto interrupted sharply, "Shut up and let the man talk."

Both Gryffindors gave him stunned looked. Hermione's, rather suspicious as well. Dumbledore, however, smiled at him. "Indeed, Mr Jones. Without evidence, there is nothing that can be done to overrule the Minister's decision. What we need." he turned pointedly to look at Hermione, now, "Is more time."

Hermione frowned in confusion, "But-" then her eyes widened to Gwen-like proportions, as she _got_ it... whatever _it_ was. "Oh!"

"Hermione Granger, you crafty little witch." Jack murmured in Ianto's ear. So she was the one with the time-travel device.

Suddenly all pretence was dropped, and Dumbledore spoke with genuine urgency, "Now, pay attention. Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, both of you: you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law. you know what is at stake. You. Must. Not. Be. Seen."

Hermione was equally all-business, now, nodding efficiently to his instructions, while Potter seemed entirely clueless.

Dumbledore headed to the door, and paused to add, "I am going to lock you in. It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

"Good luck?" Potter demanded as soon as they were left alone, "Three turns? What's he talking about? What are we supposed to do?"

Hermione ignored his confusion, briskly pulling a fine golden chain out from the neck of her robes, "Harry, come here. Quick!" she commanded. She held out the chain to him, and when he approached she threw it over his head, so that it now threaded around both their necks. "Here. Ready?"

"What are we doing?" Potter asked, thoroughly confused.

But then very suddenly they were simply gone. Vanished into thin air.

"Magical time travel device." Ianto whispered, "Looked like a necklace of some kind."

"I want one." Jack announced bluntly.

Then Dumbledore's voice could be heard from outside, "I think- yes, I think you've gone too. Get inside. I'll lock you in-"

And just like that a gleefully grinning, victorious Harry Potter and Hermione Granger hurried into the room. Perfect timing, as if they had never left.

Hermione gave Ianto an odd look, "I've got a message for you." she said, sounding a bit confused, but far too pleased with the obvious success of her mission to really be bothered by it. "He said to tell you; thanks for not turning him in, and pass it on to Jack."

"Where is he now?" Ianto asked.

Potter and Hermione exchanged a look, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably, almost defensively, before answering simply, "He's safe."

x x x


	19. A Warm Welcome

x x x

**Chapter 19: A Warm Welcome**

x x x

The following morning, Jack wandered into the Slytherin common room to find it bustling with excitement and buzzing with conversation.

"Have you heard?" Malcolm asked, bounding over to him. Zoe followed more sedately.

"Heard what?" Jack asked warily. Always better to establish the subject of conversation before answering, thus preventing humiliating misunderstandings.

"Professor Lupin is a werewolf." Zoe said in an even tone, "Blaise Zabini overheard Professor Snape telling Filch about it, this morning."

Jack blinked once, "Werewolf?" he asked, his mind immediately going back to Torchwood records of the Institute's founding.

One of the most important things he had learned from the Agency was to know who you were dealing with, and the founding had been conclusive proof of Torchwood's connection to the Doctor. The only reason he had continued to cooperate with them after he had convinced them not to keep him locked up.

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?" Jack asked.

"Exactly!" Malcolm declared loudly, "And he's been teaching here for the whole year! Almost as bad as Dementors at the gates!"

"Werewolves aren't dangerous, most of the time." Zoe said reasonably, "But Lupin got loose last night, and Snape said they were incredibly lucky no one got bitten."

Jack snorted, "Biting is what you're afraid of?" he asked derisively, "I'd be more worried about the mauling and gruesome death."

"That, and all." Malcolm agreed vehemently.

Zoe rolled her eyes, "Nobody got hurt this time, but I'd be surprised if they let Lupin stay, after this gets out."

"No goddamned kidding!" Malcolm said, "When the parents hear about this..."

"I'm not telling mine." Zoe said with a shrug, "I've heard the older students talking about who was teaching last year. I reckon it could be worse."

"Good riddance, I say!" the familiar and annoyingly smug voice of Draco Malfoy rang across the room, "Pathetic penniless fool, I'll be glad for an excuse to get rid of him. Now we just need one for Dumbledore, and we'll be set."

"Excuse me a minute." Jack said with dismissive and entirely false politeness, to Malcolm and Zoe, before crossing the room to where Draco sat, "Couldn't help overhearing- the Gryffindors probably heard you and all-" A few of the younger students snorted or giggled when he said that, "-but why, precisely, have you been prissy about Lupin, all year, _before_ we heard about this?"

Draco looked up at him, confused for a moment at the very possibility that someone in his own house was actually disagreeing with him. Then, "I think the whole class is a waste of time."

"So... self-defence isn't worth knowing, is that it?" Jack asked.

"Sometimes the best defence is a good offence." Draco retorted, not deigning to look at him now.

"Hmm, well you've got offensive down to a fine art." Jack said in a too cheerful tone, "Especially the attitude."

Draco seemed to freeze for a second, and while Jack could only see the back of his head it was clear that he was both angry and trying to think of a witty retort. Since this seemed to fail, he simply turned to glower at Jack and snapped, "I reckon I could handle myself in a fight, just fine."

"Oh sure." Jack laughed, "If it's rigged in your favour, I have no doubt."

Draco scowled at this, "Are you challenging me?"

"Picking on first years, now?" Jack taunted, finding the whole argument entirely too much fun. It was a game he was familiar with from the Agency, but Draco was taking it far too seriously.

Then again, he didn't miss a beat as he retorted, "You started it." However childish it sounded- and Jack had to remind himself that they _were_ children- it was certainly true.

Jack smiled in blatantly false innocence, "I don't want to duel you or anything." His tone became practically saccharine, as he added, "The whole point of defence is that what's attacking you doesn't give fair warning." He smiled as the implication sank in and Draco's mocking expression turned cold, "Catch you later, Malfoy."

And with that he turned and walked away, to where his friends were waiting.

Silence reigned for a moment before Marcus Flint crowed with laughter, "I don't believe it! A firstie challenged the 'great' Draco Malfoy." The deep sarcasm in the word 'great' made several other students join in with his laughter. Draco Malfoy did not look happy.

Jack hadn't officially declared war, but he knew he would have to watch his back after that display. Draco, on the other hand, would probably not anticipate just how dangerous Jack Harkness could be, even if in Jack's opinion this was only a game.

"Wow, that was... wow." Malcolm said, grinning, "How much do we have to pay to see you do something like that again?"

Zoe smiled brightly, "That sure shut him up." she agreed, nodding.

"Yeah, it did. And it's a free show, Malcolm." Jack said with a cruel chuckle, "Enjoy."

x x x

Ianto was let out of the Hospital Wing two days before the end-of-term feast... which was decorated quite thoroughly and dramatically as a tribute to Gryffindor's victory in the house cup.

With nothing practical left for any of the team to do- no schoolwork to study for and no more trouble to get into- those last few days just flew by.

x x x

"Oh my god!" Gwen yelped as they entered to Jack's apartment in Cardiff.

Jack looked past her, and sighed in exasperation, "Don't scream, Gwen. If someone calls the police, we'll have to move." he said, walking further into the room and dropping his shoulder-bag on the couch, appearing utterly unconcerned with the cause of Gwen's distress.

Ianto got a look at the source of the problem about a second later, as he pushed past the others.

Jack's past-self was lying in the middle of the floor, quite obviously dead. A knife in his chest, and all. Ianto couldn't help but notice the fact that it was a very clean kill, so little blood... and he wasn't wearing his shirt, so what little blood there was wouldn't ruin it.

"What happened here?" Owen asked, as both girls stared at the dead body. Ianto tactfully closed the door behind them, and moved to stand near Jack.

"I told you guys I wasn't entirely stable in the nineties." Jack said bluntly, beginning to root through his bag for something. Owen approached the dead body, and checked the lack-of-pulse. He went to examine the knife, but Jack quickly ordered, "Owen, don't."

"What?" Owen asked, shocked, "There's a bloody great knife in his chest, and you want me to just leave it?"

"I'll never learn my lesson if I don't have to clean up after it." Jack said bluntly, settling on the couch with his back to the dead body, and idly leafing through their History of Magic textbook.

"Wait, are you saying this was suicide?" Gwen asked, stunned.

"Yes." Jack answered, turning a page and trying to look like he wasn't bothered by this, "I got a bit depressed in the late seventies. Thought I was over the suicides by ninety-four, but obviously not. Didn't keep track of time too well back then, either... apparently."

"But what's the point in killing yourself?" Owen asked, clearly confused, "Not like it's permanent... and I bet it hurts too."

"Yes, the knife hurts... but the sensation of actually dying is kind of a rush." Jack muttered, turning another page, and clearly not actually reading anything, "All the adrenaline as my body instinctively tries to fight it... then a few hours of blissful oblivion before I have to face reality again."

"You're saying it was like a drug?" Ianto asked, shocked.

"And like any good junkie, I knew exactly how to do it." Jack said, tilting his head slightly, as if tempted to look at his own dead body.

"That's true enough." Owen muttered darkly, glancing at the corpse, "Very clean kill."

Tosh had edged around the room, to sit on the armchair, diligently not looking at Jack's past-self, as she rooted out her tech and began examining the magical crystal that had brought them here.

Gwen, however, couldn't just look the other way, "That's horrible, Jack."

Jack looked up at her, almost blankly, "I know that." he said, eyes darting once more in the direction of his past-self, as if to say that _he_ didn't, yet. "I'll get over it."

He returned his attention to the book, but flinched as they all heard the sudden gasp for air that indicated his past-self had just resurrected. Jack cringed at the sickening sound of the knife sliding past bone as his past-self pulled it out of his chest, "Lovely warm welcome, sweetheart." he called out clearly.

"Ugh, warn me when you're gonna come round, then." his past-self grumbled, utterly unrepentant. He idly picked up a cloth from the kitchen counter and started cleaning the blade of the knife, as if this was a perfectly normal everyday occurrence.

"I told you ten times when the school got out." Jack snapped, standing to face off with his past-self, and throwing his book at him, "Four owls, two phone calls, three text messages, and even an email. You were _supposed_ to pick us up at King's Cross five hours ago. If you're too self-absorbed to notice or care about any of that, maybe you ought to be locked up in a padded cell for the next decade!"

"You're hardly one to talk!" his past-self shouted back at him, stalking around the couch so that they were only standing a few feet apart, as close to face-to-face as was possible, given that Jack appeared to be a twelve-year-old and was significantly shorter than his past-self.

"At least I'm capable of behaving like a civilised human being most of the time!" Jack retorted angrily, "Get over her already!"

The resounding echo of a slap rang through the room half a second before Ianto could register what had just happened. Jack had been struck across the face by his past-self, hard. Everyone had frozen, staring in shock.

Jack slowly raised his hand to his cheek, where he had been hit, eyes wide with amazement, "Are you fucking insane?" he yelled, clearly in a state of shock. And tense, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. After several seconds, during which his past-self backed down and looked equally horrified, Jack stumbled back a step, "You could have killed us both!"

"What?" Owen asked, confused.

Jack's past-self was still staring at Jack, obviously stunned that he had actually done that, "Time paradox." he said, with a slight stammer, "Shouldn't be possible to make physical contact with your own past or future self without... disastrous consequences."

"What the hell were you thinking?" Jack demanded, staring at him with blatant horror.

"I- I wasn't thinking." his past-self admitted, "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I-" he trailed off, glancing around the room nervously, before laughing shakily, "The world appears not to have ended..."

"Lucky you." Jack hissed darkly, "Add it to the list of failed suicides, and put your fucking shirt on, you lunatic!" He turned and stormed out of the flat, leaving the rest of the team alone with his past-self.

They all looked at each other, still in shock. "That was child abuse!" Gwen complained loudly.

"Technically, Gwen, that was masochism and self-destructive behaviour." Owen muttered.

Jack's past-self stared at Gwen with confusion for all of three seconds before pointing out, "Just because he _looks_ like a child, doesn't mean he is one. If he really is me- and I'm still not entirely sure I believe that- then he doesn't even remember what it feels like to be innocent."

"I'm just gonna pretend that didn't happen, yeah?" Owen suggested. Tosh met Owen's eyes and nodded. Gwen, however, looked to Ianto then darted her eyes to the door. Ianto nodded to her and followed Jack, while Gwen went over to help Tosh with the crystal.

x x x

Ianto caught up with Jack at the front door of the building, "Hey Jack, wait up!" he shouted, and Jack turned to glance back at him. Ianto paused to catch his breath, "Are you okay?"

Jack shook his head, "Why would I be okay?" he asked, with a snort of disgust, "I just got home to see myself lying dead on the floor. Would you feel okay after that?"

"No." Ianto admitted, "Not really."

Jack shook his head and started walking away down the street. Ianto followed close behind him. After a few minutes, Jack sighed and admitted, "It's not the death that bothers me... it's my attitude... how I used to behave." He turned to look at Ianto, a pained expression on his face, "I hate seeing myself like that."

"What made you do it?" Ianto asked gently, not out of selfish nosiness but rather because he wanted to understand the man he-

Jack shook his head, "You're not going to like it." he warned.

"I figured that." Ianto said rather pointedly.

The street they had wandered down was unsettlingly close to where the millennium plaza would be in six years time. The Torchwood base was right beneath their feet. In this decade, it wasn't the best of neighbourhoods for sane people to be, in large part _because_ Torchwood where there. The smart aliens avoided it like the plague.

It was an even less safe place for anyone with anything to hide to be... and they had a great deal to hide, right now. Between magic, time travel, being in two places at once and looking like they were twelve or thirteen in one of them... not to mention that they actually _were_ Torchwood staff, just not on record yet.

There was a small bench nearby, and Jack sat down, immediately and unthinkingly mimicked by Ianto.

Ianto lightly put a hand on Jack's shoulder, and suddenly found his young Captain leaning against him for support. "I was in love." Jack admitted. Ianto tensed instantly, "Married, and everything. When she left me, I didn't know how to deal with it. I'd never allowed myself to get that close to someone, before."

"She left you?" Ianto asked warily, "Who would choose to leave you?"

Jack laughed mirthlessly, turning his head to face Ianto. They were very close, now, and Ianto quite suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable with it. They were both far too young, physically, to be thinking what he was sure they were both thinking. Especially in a public place. He cleared his throat rather pointedly, and Jack took the hint, sitting up and moving so that there was a more suitable space between them.

He shook his head, "I'm dangerous." he admitted darkly, watching Ianto carefully for a reaction.

Ianto shrugged, "I knew that... but so's Torchwood, even without you."

Jack sighed, leaning back against the bench, "She used to work there- Torchwood, that's where we met- but..." Ianto held his breath, not daring to ask 'but what?', "She decided it, and by extension I, was too dangerous to stick around after..."

Ianto leaned a little closer out of morbid curiosity. "After what?" he asked warily. The part of him that felt intensely jealous at this woman's mere existence, and highly resentful to her for daring to hurt Jack like this, was overruled by the logical knowledge that it's in the past, even in this time... and Jack- his Jack- had clearly learned to move on.

When Jack finally spoke it was very quietly, and Ianto had to lean closer again to make out the words, "After our daughter was born."

Ianto stared at him for several seconds, utterly shocked by this news. Sure, if you thought about it rationally, being married and in love, the odds would suggest having kids was quite likely... but he'd never imagined Jack as a father, before. "Wh-when was this?" he asked, slightly shaken.

"Nineteen-seventy-seven." Jack said distantly, sadly, "She made it perfectly clear that it was my fault she left. Because I'm dangerous. I never blamed her. But then I immediately went and proved her right by beating myself up over it."

"You were depressed." Ianto rationalised, "You certainly wouldn't be the first person to commit suicide after losing someone you loved. First to survive and repeat the process, most likely... but still."

Jack chuckled darkly, "Have I ever said how much I love your cruel sense of humour?"

Ianto blinked, unsure how to take that. Jack had used the word 'love', again... this time for something about him, rather than just the coffee he made. Still, he wasn't sure how to react, "No, sir. This would be the first."

"Well I do." Jack said distantly, smiling faintly. It was like he had finally let his guard down, for the first _real_ time. Ianto had seen him appear vulnerable before, but this was a whole new level. And the 'L'-word.

He shivered slightly, and quickly covered the action up by saying, "It's cold out here, and we're near the Plaza..."

Only now did Jack seem to realise where they were, and looked around suspiciously, "Damnit." he muttered, and quickly stood, taking Ianto's hand and leading him back towards the flat.

x x x

"Y'know, owls showing up in my window had sort of become a rare treat." Jack's past-self was muttering darkly, eyeing a small barn owl with irritation, as Ianto fed it crumbs of toast. "Now, there's one here every morning!"

Even though this was _her_ newspaper subscription, Tosh was still wary of owls in general, and couldn't stand to be near the thing any longer than was absolutely necessary to take her paper and flee to the couch. Ianto was the one who had encouraged the bird to stick around, by offering it food.

"Treat?" Owen asked, confused.

"Yeah. Letters from people who don't seem to resent the fact I exist." Jack's past-self answered bitterly, "Was actually kinda nice."

"Well we need to keep up to date with current events." Tosh said idly, unrolling her paper and scanning the front page. "Oh my."

"What?" both Jacks asked in perfect synch.

"It looks like Lord Voldemort's legacy isn't as dead as some would like." Tosh said, reading the article carefully, "It says here that an unidentified group of masked wizards disrupted the post-game celebrations at the Quidditch World Cup."

"Football hooligans for the wizarding world." Owen announced cheerfully, leaning over the back of the couch, to peer over her shoulder.

Tosh held the paper up so that they could all read it, gathering behind her where Owen had been.

Ianto was the last to join them, having paused to shoo off the owl first, rather than leaving it unattended. When he finally looked he saw a large picture of a shimmering light over a forest... shaped like a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.

Below was a headline: '_SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP_'

He read on quickly, trying to tune out the worst of the journalistic licence, and figure out the facts. It wasn't easy, whoever wrote this article was clearly the melodramatic sort.

'_Last night, for the first time in thirteen years, the Dark Mark  
><em> _ - the infamous and feared symbol of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -  
><em> _ was seen in the sky. The Dark Mark has always previously been  
><em> _ seen at the site of a murder committed by You-Know-Who, or one  
><em> _ of his followers. A few hours after the phenomenal Quidditch  
><em> _ World Cup final, a group of Muggle-torturers, several of which  
><em> _ were reported to be wearing the masks associated with the  
><em> _ followers of You-Know-Who. Minutes later, the Dark Mark was  
><em> _ cast into the sky over the nearby wood into which terrified  
><em> _ match attendees had fled from the attackers._

_With dozens of on-duty Aurors on site, it must be one of the  
><em> _ greatest Ministry blunders in history that the culprits were  
><em> _ not apprehended. Were the Aurors perhaps too busy celebrating,  
><em> _ along with the Irish? It seems that the only Ministry workers  
><em> _ who even tried to search for the source of the Dark Mark were  
><em> _ older officials, with no connections to the Department of  
><em> _ Magical Law Enforcement, Dark Arts Eradication Division. With  
><em> _ the sort of lax security that allows Dark wizards running  
><em> _ unchecked like this, especially in front of foreign delegates,  
><em> _ this is a national disgrace._

_If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly  
><em> _ for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the  
><em> _ Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry_  
><em> official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark<br>_ _ Mark, alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give  
><em> _ any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to  
><em> _ quash the rumours that several bodies were removed from the  
><em> _ woods an hour later, remains to be seen._

_Special report, from Rita Skeeter._'

"This Skeeter woman really doesn't like the Ministry, huh?" Owen muttered, at just the same moment as Ianto finished reading... as if this short statement fully summed up the entire article.

"I think she was being very polite." Ianto said idly, "Either that or she's just not the kind of expert at defamation that Torchwood used to employ in London. Still does, this decade, actually."

"I've read worse in friendly birthday greetings from some of my old lovers." Jack muttered, glancing at Ianto, who frowned to show that he recognised the taboo subject of John Hart being passed right under his past-self's nose.

"It's still a very anti-establishment message, isn't it?" Owen pointed out.

"Don't see a problem with that." past-Jack said idly, though Ianto got the strong impression he was just talking about Torchwood and not much caring about the Ministry of Magic.

"I'm glad I didn't insist we get tickets, now..." Ianto muttered, "I've always wanted to see a professional game, but this..."

"Yeah." Jack said flatly, "It's not our problem."

x x x


	20. Voodoo Child

x x x

**Chapter 20: Voodoo Child**

x x x

It was two days before they were due to return to Hogwarts, and more books were required. Tosh was positively ecstatic at the prospect of revisiting the magical bookstore, especially now that she had a better idea of what she wanted to look for.

Thus the team made their second ever trip to Diagon Alley. Jack's past-self once again accompanied them, and in spite of what the team had learned of his... bad habits... this summer, he seemed surprisingly cheerful, as well.

"I got the week off work." he informed them brightly, "Starting today, and Carol hasn't even blocked my passport this time."

"Sounds like they had you on a pretty short leash." Owen muttered to their own version of Jack.

Jack glowered at him, but then shrugged in a poor attempt at dismissing his irritation, "Yes." he said with a curt nod, "Yes, they did."

"I'll get our books, guys." Tosh said eagerly, when they reached Flourish and Blott's, "Meet you at the ice-cream shop."

Nods and murmurs of agreement barely reached her ears as she darted quickly into the store in question. "Well that's her sorted for the day." Owen said, with a hint of jealousy... though it was practically impossible to tell if he was jealous that she was enjoying herself, or that she preferred the books to being around him. Even if they all knew he would never admit to the latter. "Like a kid in a candy store."

"So now what do we do?" Gwen asked.

"Well, there _is_ a candy store just down the street." Ianto suggested.

No one else had time to comment on the suggestion, however sardonic and joking it had been, because Jack appeared to have other plans. "I want a broomstick." he announced bluntly, and began leading the way towards the Quidditch shop.

"Were you a spoiled brat when you were twelve, by any chance?" Owen asked, staring up at Jack's past-self.

Past-Jack blinked a couple of times, putting on the familiar mask of everything's-just-fine-and-don't-you-love-me-too-much-to-pry. "No, actually. I really wasn't."

Before Owen could attempt to pry anyway, past-Jack started to follow his other self. The rest of the team was left staring after him in mild confusion, before exchanging significant looks, and jogging to catch up.

They found Jack and his past-self in the Quidditch shop, both intently browsing the merchandise. Jack, himself, was examining a rack of broomsticks, with labels detailing their statistics and strengths. Ianto was mildly disturbed to see that the one he seemed especially interested in cost three hundred galleons.

Fifteen hundred pounds! For an enchanted bit of wood! While it was true that Ianto had taken an interest in Quidditch- as a fan, with no ambition to ever actually play the game- that did not blind him to the fact that this was obviously ridiculously overpriced.

Meanwhile, Jack's past-self was scanning the first few pages of a book titled '_A Guide to Quidditch Strategies, and How to Get Away With Cheating_'. That, somehow, entirely failed to surprise him.

"You're not planning on joining the house Quidditch team, are you?" Ianto asked incredulously.

"And why not?" Jack asked, looking up at him with a genuinely blank expression that made it crystal clear he did not see a problem with this.

"You've only ever flown before in those classes we took last year." Ianto said, "You need loads of practice, and I've heard that the Slytherin team especially are _very_ picky."

"Not to mention political." Jack said, grinning in a disturbingly knowing way. It was always so very worrying when Jack came up with a Plan. Even more so because he so rarely deigned to explain it. "I'm sure I'll do just fine."

"I wouldn't bet on it, Harkness." Draco Malfoy's voice rang coldly from the doorway. He shoved past Owen and Gwen, with a brief look of disgust at even being near them, before striding across the shop and standing right in front of Jack, doing his very best to look important. "You're right about the Quidditch team being political. And the thing is... my father bought the team's brooms. So somehow I doubt that anyone I disapprove of has a chance."

Jack's most calculating expression flashed so briefly across his face that it was almost unnoticeable... then he grinned again, "Sure, whatever you say, Malfoy. I think I fancy my chances just fine."

He turned and pointed to the broom he had been eyeing up. The one that cost fifteen hundred pounds. "That one."

"Fine, but you owe me." Jack's past-self said with such totally blunt honesty that it made Ianto wonder what he could possibly believe his own future-self could 'owe' him. None of the possibilities that crossed his mind seemed good.

"Oh yeah, sure. You can fly it when you're old enough." Jack sniped in a sardonic tone that was meant to sound like he was joking. Ianto knew better.

"Didn't you hear me, Harkness?" Draco snapped, stepping in his way as he turned to head up to the counter to buy the broom. "There is absolutely no way you're getting onto the Slytherin Quidditch team as long as I'm at Hogwarts."

Jack tilted his head back slightly, so that he managed to give the impression of looking down at Draco, in spite of being noticeably shorter. "Well if you're going to be that way about it. Maybe I'll try out for the Hufflepuff team."

Draco spluttered, somewhere between complete outrage and utter confusion.

Ianto laughed, "Yeah, I'll tell Diggory about that. He'll _love_ it!"

Draco proceeded to storm off in a sulk, swearing a blue streak about Hufflepuffs and Jack's ancestors.

Meanwhile, Jack's past-self had brought both the broomstick and the book he had been reading to the counter, and was cheerfully joking- and flirting- with the sales assistant there. Grumbling about goblin conspiracies and decimalisation, to the young man who wholeheartedly agreed that while he would never want to leave it, the magical world really did need to wake up and smell the twentieth century.

It ended, disturbingly enough with Jack's past-self acquiring the sales assistant's phone number and agreeing to a date that very weekend.

Ianto warily edged over to _his_ Jack, and muttered quietly, "You do realise _he_-" Ianto indicated the other Jack, "-now has a date this Saturday?"

Jack gave Ianto a faintly calculating smirk, "Jealous?"

"No! Of course not. Why should I be?" he defended immediately, "This is before you ever met me." He really wasn't convinced by his own words, and clearly neither was Jack, who put an arm around Ianto's shoulders in a comforting gesture.

"It won't last." he said gently, "You know me. I'll flirt with anything with an IQ higher than that of a telemarketer. You shouldn't take it seriously. I know I never did."

"Ah, so that's why I caught you snogging a toaster, one time." Owen joked. While the insinuation that a toaster was smarter than a telemarketer was not lost on Ianto, he still resented the fact that Owen just _had_ to make light of his problems. Every chance he got.

"And me...?" Ianto asked Jack warily, careful to lower his voice so that the others would no longer hear him.

Jack grinned, "Do you really think I'd bother to reassure you like that if I wasn't serious?" He lightly kissed Ianto on the forehead. "Just... try and ignore him. It's what I usually do." he added, glancing at his past-self.

x x x

Tosh left Flourish and Blott's with a large bag bulging with books, even though the only new textbook they required this year was one copy of '_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2)_' each.

She had also picked up '_New Theory of Numerology_', '_Practical Portkeys_'... and an especially large tome titled, '_Tampering With Time_', which went on to advertise on its cover chapters such as '_Time Turners; yesterday here I come_', '_Freezing Spells; the only way forward_', '_One hundred and one things that could prevent you from having ever existed_', and '_How not to become your own grandfather_'.

She especially looked forward to reading that last one.

As she headed for Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop, she noticed an oddly worn sign creaking slightly in the breeze. She could have sworn it wasn't there last year.

'_Havelock and Slinkhard, Rare and Exotic Books Emporium_'.

The sign pointed down a darker side-street. Much like Diagon Alley itself, it turned crookedly, and wound out of sight within a very short distance.

She glanced down at her watch, and decided she still had time. One more stop. She really couldn't resist the possibility of having access to uncommon information.

x x x

Gwen stared into her empty ice-cream glass, frowning at it as if it was the cause of a great and terrible evil upon the world. Well, in a way it was. There was no more ice-cream!

Jack kept checking the watch on his right arm, and looking more irritable by the second. The fourth time he did this, Gwen sighed dramatically, and finally she chose to be the one to ask, "Where is she?"

"It's been over an hour." Jack said, sounding deeply worried.

"She can take care of herself." Owen dismissed. The lucky sod still had ice-cream, and was far too intent on eating it to be concerned with the well-being of his friend and co-worker.

"We should go and make sure." Gwen suggested, frowning, "She could be in trouble."

"What sort of trouble could she possibly get into in a public place like this?" Owen asked.

Jack glanced down at his Vortex Manipulator- which the entire team had discovered on several occasions could also be a communicator, and a source of valuable information beyond simply the time. "Okay, let's go find her. Somewhere... that way." He pointed.

The other three gave him an odd look, but his past-self seemed entirely unsurprised. "How'd you know where she is?" Gwen asked.

"She's got a tracking chip imbedded in her skull." Jack said bluntly, "Courtesy of a brief stay with UNIT, before I recruited her."

Ianto nodded slowly, "Yeah, I have one to. It was standard issue for all employees in Torchwood One."

Gwen scowled, but it was Owen who butted in with a horrified outburst of, "You don't have one of those things on me, do you?"

"No, neither of you have them." Jack said, shrugging, "I'm not a tyrannical despot like Yvonne Hartman."

Ianto snickered at this. The others didn't get the reference.

Jack stood up, "Come on, let's go find Tosh."

Owen finished the runny remains of his ice-cream in record time, and had to jog to catch up with the others, just as they reached a side-street. "This way." Jack said, indicating the darker alleyway.

"Uh, Owen..." past-Jack said, looking very much like he was trying not to laugh. Gwen glanced at Owen to see precisely why. Treating melted ice-cream like a drink while in a hurry had messy and hilarious-looking results.

"You've got ice-cream." Gwen giggled, "On your face."

"Don't say it." Jack said to his past-self, before turning to lead the way down the side-street.

"But-" past-Jack began.

Before Jack could repeat his command, Ianto caught his arm, "Jack, wait!" Jack stopped, and everyone was staring at Ianto now.

Owen surreptitiously wiped the remains of the ice-cream he had called lunch from his mouth.

"We can't go down there." Ianto said, with what sounded very much like genuine fear in his voice, "That's Knockturn Alley. It's dangerous."

"Know-it-all." Owen grumbled.

Ianto shot him a vicious glare, before turning back to the others, "Nobody goes down Knockturn Alley unless they're up to no good."

"So it's a shady neighbourhood." past-Jack said dismissively, "I'll bet you any money I've _lived_ in worse."

Jack shrugged, in a vague 'I really wouldn't argue with him' sort of way. "Tosh is down there."

That was the end of that argument, and they all followed Jack.

This Knockturn Alley was a terribly dreary place. Stereotypically dark and creepy. It did put Gwen on edge, but she had seen harmless goth kids clothes that looked scarier... it honestly gave that vibe of _trying_ to be off-putting to outsiders, rather than of having real reason to fear it.

Trying just a little too hard, really. It was a bit dank, very dark, with a torture-chamber-gothic style, rather than the classic fairy-tale feel of the rest of the magical world. Most of the buildings were sealed off, or simply the back entrance to some of the main Diagon Alley shops.

The first shop they passed that wasn't boarded up looked strongly reminiscent of Professor Snape's private store-room, which they had seen briefly during a class on identifying poisons.

There were a few stalls, with very disturbing looking trinkets and amulets for sale. One looked like everything there was made from a combination of human fingers, animal claws, and tufts of hair. Another sold what looked distinctly like Ouija boards and voodoo dolls.

"Y'know." past-Jack said conversationally, "This kinda reminds me of a place I visited once, on Titan. Except there were slightly fewer dismembered body parts for sale... and a lot more alien hookers."

As he said this, their Jack- the younger-looking-but-really-older version of him- was examining the stall with the voodoo dolls just a little too intently for Gwen's liking.

The people here, mostly stall owners and a few skulking vagrants, gave them very odd looks, but didn't dare bother the rather large group that, however young most of them appeared, managed to give off an air of knowing precisely what they were doing and where they were going.

The third actual store they came to was a book store. Jack stopped outside it, and it was clear this was where Tosh was.

"Typical." Owen grumbled, "Just bloody typical."

Upon stepping into the shop, they saw that the creepy-goth theme continued in here. A tall and incredibly austere man in a Victorian-style suit looked up at them as the door closed behind them.

"Ah, more... customers." he said in a level of dark sarcasm that even Ianto had never mastered.

Tosh, it turned out, was here, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, scanning a book carefully. She looked up, grinning, "Hi, guys." she said brightly.

"Tosh, what do you think you're doing here?" Ianto asked, both concerned and a bit angry.

Tosh stared, glancing down at her book, then up at Ianto, seeming rather hurt, "What's the matter?" she asked, confused.

"Knockturn Alley is not a safe place for anyone, let alone a lone twelve-year-old girl." Ianto insisted.

Gwen noticed the faint flicker of dark amusement on the shopkeeper's face, and it seemed to add to her theory that they _wanted_ to give that impression, rather than all being really dangerous.

"I'm fine, Ianto." Tosh insisted, "Sure, it's a bit creepy, but I've seen worse. And these books!" she continued, now practically gleeful, "Jack, you've got to read this one."

The shopkeeper cleared his throat rather pointedly.

"Oh, yes. I want to buy all three of these." Tosh said eagerly, handing one book to Jack and closing the other two, "Thank you for letting me look at them."

"I'll handle this." past-Jack said, quickly stepping up to the counter. Gwen did hear him talking quietly to the man... and within seconds he was laughing. The shopkeeper maintained a straight face, but seemed to get the joke nonetheless.

Gwen really did wonder what was so funny... but Jack's past-self didn't deign to explain it to any of them.

As they left the shop, past-Jack informed them brightly, "This may well be my favourite shady neighbourhood so far. Never did like the alien hookers on Titan, anyway."

x x x

On the Hogwarts Express, the Torchwood team found a compartment to themselves and settled in for the journey, with many books to pass the time, just like last time. Although Tosh, instead, had taken out her wand, the golden pen-shaped magical inference detector that Jack had given her for Christmas last year, and a notebook... and had even managed to wheedled Jack out of his wrist strap for the time being.

While she cast minor charms in the air and made meticulous notes on the energy signatures they produced, Jack busied himself at the doorway of the compartment.

"What, exactly, are you up to?" Owen asked incredulously, peering over the potions book he had been reading.

"I believe the technical term... is voodoo." Jack said idly, not looking up from what looked far more like a booby-trap on the door than any form of actual magic.

"Oh, this can't be good." Gwen muttered, staring over her copy of the Quibbler, eyes wide with fascination none-the-less.

"Yeah, how is _that_ voodoo?" Owen demanded, "And why are you using dark magic, right now, anyway?"

"It's not 'dark magic'... just a DNA trigger." Jack said, waving a dismissive hand at them both, "The rest of it is of entirely non-magical origins."

"So you've set that thing to go off when a particular person enters the compartment?" Gwen asked, getting the more technobabble term of 'DNA trigger' far more easily than most normal people would, especially in the magical world.

"Which they undoubtedly will." Jack said, nodding.

"And the trap itself?" Owen pried, now intensely curious with the sort of malicious anticipation that this could be a _lot_ of fun to watch.

Jack shrugged, finishing with the device and taking his seat next to Ianto, who was pretending not to have noticed what Jack had been up to, let alone the conversation about it.

"Tar and feathers. A classic."

x x x

"Hey, did you guys hear about the Quidditch World Cup?" Gred asked as he and his twin appeared in the doorway of the Torchwood team's compartment on the train, both wearing identical grins. The voodoo trap did not go off.

Owen's face fell in disappointment, but he recovered quickly and asked, "Yeah, Quidditch hooligans, right?"

He happily ignored both the snickering from Gwen and Jack, and the confused looks that said snickering inspired on the twins' faces.

Gred gave Jack an odd look, while Forge retorted, "Actually, we were talking about Krum catching the Snitch." He and his twin happily sat themselves down in the window seats, without an invitation, as they spoke.

"But Ireland won the match." Gred explained as if this made sense. It went right over Owen's head, in spite of Oliver Wood's best efforts, on that first day they had been to Diagon Alley.

"One hundred and sixty to one." Ianto answered bluntly. Everyone stared at him for a moment. "What? Those are the odds."

"Oh ho!" Gred crowed.

"Bagman ripped us off!" Forge explained.

"He gave us twenty to one!" Gred elaborated. It was kind of maddening listening to them like this.

"Still not a bad payout." Forge noted.

"If he ever does pay up." Gred observed, his tone turning dark.

"Been dodging us since the match." Forge agreed, also beginning to sound a bit threatening. It was now perfectly clear that they were both plotting ways to get their money back, and this Bagman person would regret it.

Just at that moment, the door slid open again, "Hey, Harkness-" the familiar, snobbish voice of Draco Malfoy began, in what must have been his best attempt at a threatening tone. Owen didn't buy it for a moment.

And that was all he succeeded in saying before the tar and feathers hit him in the face.

"Aww, classic!" Forge crowed gleefully.

"Brilliant!" his twin agreed.

Malfoy spluttered indignantly, trying to wipe the mess off his face. "Watch your step there, Malfoy." Jack said with cheerful false-innocence, "That could easily have been something much more dangerous."

"You smug bastard, Harkness! I will get you for this!" Malfoy snarled, before turning and fleeing further down the train, to the echoing sound of raucous laughter from everyone who saw him pass.

x x x


	21. A Storm Is Coming

x x x

**Chapter 21: A Storm Is Coming**

x x x

The rest of the journey went by peacefully enough, as the team alternately read or listened to the Weasley twins talking incessantly, and in such great detail, about the Quidditch World Cup, until the team could almost have quoted a play-by-play of the match... if any of them had actually bothered to listen.

It was easier for Gwen and Owen who, having lived in Gryffindor tower for the last school year, were now quite accustomed to ignoring the twins' antics.

Once they began to tire of this subject, however, the twins started on Ludo Bagman.

Bagman had apparently been a great Quidditch player in his prime, and had always been an even greater gambler, rather infamous for pulling a few quite dramatic scams when he got too deep into debt. The twins had convinced themselves that this was what they had unintentionally gotten their own money involved in. They did go on about it at great length, ranging from virtual hero-worship of his Quidditch skills to vicious verbal assaults on his refusal to pay them.

By the end of the journey, none of the team were sorry to see the two leave.

"Next time, Jack... tar and feather _them_." Owen had suggested, tiredly.

After quickly changing into their uniforms and scrambling off the train, they found themselves bombarded by a downpour of rain, and a bone-chilling wind. It wasn't long before the surging crowd of other students, all eager to get up to the castle as quickly as possible, had separated the team.

Gwen found herself being helped up into a- thankfully enclosed and relatively dry- carriage, by one of the Gryffindor third years, Neville Longbottom. A second glance out the window told her that the carriage was drawn by a pair of Thestrals. She stared.

Neville elbowed her sharply, and gave a pointed look at the other two Gryffindor boys in the carriage. Both of them were entirely oblivious. Gwen was surprised at the thought that the quiet and rather adorably clumsy boy could see the creatures that only those who had witnessed death could look upon, but she did take the hint and stopped staring.

"Did you see Malfoy?" Ron Weasley asked, grinning from ear to ear, "That was bloody brilliant, that was."

Neville laughed nervously, "Yeah. Rather him than me."

Harry Potter remained silent, but he was clearly amused by the memory none-the-less.

"I saw it happen." Gwen pointed out, smiling at the opportunity to be included in this discussion. To be the one to offer additional information.

"Yeah?" Ron asked, leaning forward eagerly, "Who did it? I want to shake their hand."

"Jack." Gwen answered.

"Jack who?" Ron asked blankly.

Gwen blinked, still not used to people _not_ knowing who Jack was. In Cardiff- in her own time- if someone working for Torchwood said Jack's name, _everyone_ in the whole city knew who you were talking about.

"Jack Harkness. My year... Slytherin." Gwen elaborated.

Ron's face fell dramatically... then turned several shades whiter. He was blatantly horrified at the realization that he had just complimented a Slytherin.

"Oh, I remember him." Neville said, nodding, "Last year's Sorting... everyone made a big deal because he's got a famous last name."

"No wonder he got in Slytherin." Ron sulked dourly, folding his arms and sitting back with a look of purest disgust plastered across his face.

"If he tarred and feathered Malfoy... he can't be all bad." Harry put in diplomatically. The serene smile he wore as he said this was that of someone reliving a truly blissful memory.

"Harry! He's a Slytherin! They're the enemy!" Ron whined.

"Don't forget the Hat nearly put me in Slytherin, Ron." Harry returned, still seeming rather calm about this whole thing, compared to his friend's barely contained rage.

Gwen glanced at Neville with uncertainty, and was relieved to see an exasperated eyeroll as his answer. He agreed that Ron was being overdramatic, and that made her feel a bit better.

She really hated when other students picked on Jack, just because he was in the 'evil' house. There was no conclusive evidence that Slytherin was evil... it was just a popular rumour. That was entirely unfair.

Then again, Jack tended to be able to take care of himself.

As she saw, when the carriage stopped in the main courtyard at the front of the castle. The three boys in her carriage clambered out into the pouring rain, to join the crowd forming a semi-circle around Jack... and Draco Malfoy. Draco still had some of the tar in his hair, but had otherwise done a surprisingly good job of getting cleaned up on the train.

Rain continued to fall unabated, drenching all the students gathered there... but nobody seemed to notice, far too intent on what looked like the prelude to a wizards' duel.

Gwen quickly spotted Tosh, Ianto, Hermione and Luna leaving another carriage, and joined them.

Luna produced a huge, brightly coloured umbrella from a handbag it should never have been able to fit into, and opened it over their heads, happily sharing with anyone who was able to squeeze in underneath it.

"What's going on?" Ianto asked, sounding concerned. At least for him... if you didn't know him, you would probably assume that he was entirely disinterested, but in Gwen's opinion, a year spent saving the Earth together really lets you get to know a person.

"No idea." she answered.

Owen wandered over to join them under the limited form of shelter, as well. "This looks like fun." he pointed out, grinning.

"Come on, then, you little brat." Draco taunted, wand drawn, in what was- according to Professor Flitwick- a classic duelling stance, "I dare you."

Jack snorted, "Yes, I'm sure you'd love me to throw the first curse, in front of all these witnesses, now wouldn't you?" Unlike Draco, he appeared unarmed... and totally unconcerned.

"Chicken!" Draco sneered.

"Is that really your best insult?" Jack asked, laughing, "You couldn't take me."

"You're only a second year, Harkness." Draco retorted, "I could hex you from here into the middle of next week!"

Jack grinned. Gwen knew that grin. It was the 'I'm an unkillable superhero and your threats are a very lame joke' grin.

"Prove it."

Draco glanced around. Witnesses. Yes, he clearly knew that he couldn't be the one to throw the first curse, either. "I'll get you next time."

"You have no idea how many bad TV villains have said that in the past." Jack crowed, causing what seemed like every single Muggle-born student in the courtyard to laugh.

Draco seethed with anger, clearly despising being the subject of ridicule... even though he had made it perfectly clear, in the past, that he loved to be on the other side of these degrading situations.

Jack glanced up behind Draco, and grinned. Gwen followed his line of sight, too see what was there. One of the Thestrals, ruffling its wings irritably, to shake off the rain. Without warning or explanation, Jack whistled... the sort of whistle that one tends to use when calling a pet or other tame animal.

The Thestral responded. Gwen wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not, and ended up simply staring as the creature followed the call obediently... shoving Draco to one side with its shoulder, in the process. Knocking him to the ground.

Most of the school expressed confusion. But then a small number- including Neville and Luna- began to laugh... and the laughter spread, until what seemed like the entire school had joined in mocking the humiliated Slytherin.

"Oops." Jack said brightly, "Forgot to say 'look behind you'... but it's just so cliche."

He turned and walked away to where the rest of the Torchwood team had been watching, putting one arm around each of Gwen and Ianto's shoulders, and beginning to lead them towards the castle doors. The rest of the gathered crowd began to part as they approached.

"You have no idea how much fun that was." he told them, in a quiet but incredibly cheerful tone.

They had only just turned to walk up to the castle, when a rushing sound warned of a spell cast at them. Jack pushed both of them away to either side... not hard enough to make them fall, but certainly enough to give him some space, as he turned around with startling speed.

Surprisingly, he didn't draw his wand to defend himself.

No, Gwen didn't see exactly _what_ he did... only that he held up his left hand defensively, and the flash of blue light deflected harmlessly from the palm of his hand to the ground. He must have been holding something, but at this angle she had no idea what.

Jack lowered his hand slowly. "Are we done here?" he asked Draco calmly. Draco raised his wand to attack once more. Jack sighed, almost managing to feign an exasperated and bored tone, "The next one gets reflected back at you."

"There are spells that a _mirror_ won't stop." Draco sneered.

So it was a mirror. Must have had it in his hand the whole time, to be able to react that quickly, and even then... to catch a curse on it like that, his reflexes must be amazing. Of course, this was Captain Jack Harkness... so why was she surprised, again?

"Yes, and they're almost all illegal." Ianto pointed out coldly.

"You're in plenty of trouble as it is, Malfoy." Owen put in, from where he and Tosh were still standing under Luna's umbrella, "Everyone here saw who started this... and is that Professor McGonagall I see?" he added, pointing right past Draco.

Draco spun around so fast that he fell over in the process. He was lucky, Gwen thought, that the courtyard was paved, and he didn't land in the muddy sludge that had once been grass.

It turned out, in fact, that there was no sign whatsoever of Professor McGonagall. Nor any of the teaching staff, for that matter. "We're going to be late for the feast." Ianto said quietly, while their rather large audience was once more laughing at Draco.

"Alright." Jack conceded, sounding incredibly reluctant, "Playtime's over."

Then, much to Gwen's surprise, he walked back over to where Draco was still sitting on the ground looking rather sorry for himself. The humiliated Slytherin tried to edge away from Jack... who did nothing more than offer him a hand to help him up.

"Don't be a bad loser, Draco." he said in a gentle but carrying tone. "I don't really want you for an enemy."

Draco stared at the offered hand with blatant incredulity.

Silence echoed through the courtyard. Even the wind died down to a dull and distant roar, and time seemed to draw out from mere seconds to a small eternity as the two stared at each other.

Then Draco looked away first, turning his eyes to the ground... and he accepted the offered hand, allowing Jack to help him to his feet.

x x x

The crowd of students poured into the entrance hall, pushing and shoving to get in out of the rain, now that the spectacle was over. A loud yell of horrified outrage echoed through the room... sounding suspiciously like Ronald Weasley.

Peeves cackling, and McGonagall yelling. Jack looked up to see that the pernicious poltergeist was in possession of a large assortment of water balloons.

"If I were you." a familiar and smooth voice said calmly, "I would duck in three-" Jack looked at the source of this voice. "Two-" It was the Bloody Baron. "One." Jack ducked, and a water-balloon soared over his head, to strike the person behind him.

This turned out to be Mark Avery. Jack snickered maliciously at Avery's misfortune... but then the Baron turned away and began to float towards a wall. Jack followed, while everyone else paid far more attention to McGonagall's failed attempt to chastise Peeves.

"Wait."

The Baron hesitated, turning to glance at Jack over his shoulder.

"You call that protection?"

"Two." the Baron said simply, before snorting with dark amusement, "Out of seventy?" And without any further explanation, he turned and vanished through the wall.

Jack wanted to swear.

"Two out of seventy what?" Tosh asked, from behind him.

Jack turned to look at her, and realised what the Baron meant. On average there were about two hundred and eighty students in Hogwarts. Seventy in each house. The Baron was either accusing him of breaking his end of the deal, or- and Jack thought this was the more likely- unsubtly reminding him about it.

He feigned innocence, even knowing the team never fell for it. They usually at least knew well enough not to ask, when he did it. "Nothing important."

He watched her head off into the great hall, fully aware of the eerie prickling sensation on the back of his neck, which made him feel sure he was being watched.

Just as a precaution, in case the Baron had heard that and interpreted it badly, he added in an undertone, "Nothing you need to worry about, anyway, Tosh."

x x x

"Children are like pack animals." Owen grumbled to Gwen, as they settled themselves at the Gryffindor table.

The entire school was murmuring about Jack and Draco's little disagreement earlier. Looking at it in that light, it really was true. In spite of his youth, Draco Malfoy had been the most influential student in Slytherin house... and he had just been bested by a second-year.

Not only that, but instead of instigating yet another feud within the school, Jack had offered peace.

"The rumour mill will be in uproar." Gwen said, quite sure that it was only a half joke.

"Look at the smug git, lording it up over there." Ron Weasley sniped, "Thinks he's so great."

"Oi." Owen retorted, "That smug git's never done anything against you, Weasley."

"Sod off, Harper." Ron sniped back, before pointedly turning away from Owen and Gwen, and focusing on the new first years as they trooped up the centre of the great hall.

Gwen and Owen shrugged and also watched, as Professor McGonagall placed the familiar stood and hat in front of the new students.

And the hat began to sing.

"_A thousand years or more ago,_  
><em>When I was newly sewn,<em>  
><em>There lived four wizards of renown,<em>  
><em>Whose names are still well known:<em>

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_  
><em>Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,<em>  
><em>Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,<em>  
><em>Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.<em>

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_  
><em>They hatched a daring plan,<em>  
><em>To educate young sorcerers,<em>  
><em>Thus Hogwarts School began.<em>

_Now each of these four founders,_  
><em>Formed their own house, for each,<em>  
><em>Did value different virtues,<em>  
><em>In the ones they had to teach.<em>

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were,_  
><em>Prized far beyond the rest.<em>  
><em>For Ravenclaw, the cleverest,<em>  
><em>Would always be the best.<em>

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were,_  
><em>Most worthy of admission.<em>  
><em>And power-hungry Slytherin,<em>  
><em>Loved those of great ambition.<em>

_While still alive they did divide,_  
><em>Their favourites from the throng,<em>  
><em>Yet how to pick the worthy ones,<em>  
><em>When they were dead and gone?<em>

_'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_  
><em>He whipped me off his head,<em>  
><em>The founders put some brains in me,<em>  
><em>So I could choose instead!<em>

_Now slip me snug about your ears,_  
><em>I've never yet been wrong,<em>  
><em>I'll have a look inside your mind,<em>  
><em>And tell where you belong!<em>"

"Got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat?" Ron said a bit too loudly, "I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

Owen's eyes narrowed, and his hand moved for a fork, intent on throwing it at Ron. Gwen caught his wrist, and when he looked up at her she met his eyes and slowly shook her head.

He sulked. He wanted to stab Ron Weasley with a fork. Why couldn't he stab Ron Weasley with a fork? It would be so satisfying.

After that, they both kind of tuned out, during the sorting. Owen really didn't give a damn about which part of the castle a bunch of kids he didn't know would be sleeping in for the next seven years.

"Y'know, I often wonder what the hell Jack thinks he's playing at, when he does stuff like that." Owen told Gwen quietly.

She nodded slowly, "He's been acting kind of oddly, since we started Hogwarts." she commented reasonably.

"After that bastard, Hart, I get the feeling they might all have been like that. Y'know..." Owen glanced around and then whispered, practically in her ear, "Time Agents." returning to a normal tone, he continued, "Seem to think like Slytherins, is all I'm sayin'."

"Oh, don't tell me you're prejudiced, too?" Gwen demanded.

"Just that the stereotype is scheming and plotting. Jack's good at that sort of thing when he wants to be." Owen defended.

"So was... Vera." she muttered, her tone darkening deeply as she spoke the name.

It was at this moment that Professor Dumbledore chose to stand, causing them to realise that the sorting had completely finished while they had been talking.

"I have only two words to say to you." he announced happily, "Tuck in."

And with that the spectacular feast they had come to expect after last year appeared before them.

No further thought was wasted on anything but the food. At least, not for Owen. He distantly registered vehement complaints and a hissed argument from the direction of Ron and his friends... but he neither took any notice, nor imagined he would have cared if he had bothered to listen.

Food. Good. That was all that mattered, for the moment.

Far sooner than he would have liked, the plates cleared, and the feast had come to an end.

The general noise of chatter died down, when Dumbledore stood again, leaving only the echo of the rain bouncing off the castle rooftops, and the wind threatening to tear off said rooftops, as ambient sound.

"So!" the headmaster announced brightly, "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

"Didn't Ianto get us a copy of that list, last year?" Gwen asked.

"Yeah. He even gave me a pop quiz on it." Owen sulked.

"As ever." the headmaster continued, seeming rather amused at the possibility that anyone could ever want to read the aforementioned list, "I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Instant uproar rang through the hall. Harry Potter shouted, the Weasley twins heckled, and a loud thumping sound from the Slytherin table caused Owen to turn in time to see Jack slouching with his arms folded, looking entirely too childish and petulant for his real age.

Judging by the overturned goblet, now dripping whatever beverage it had once contained into Mark Avery's lap... Jack had most likely kicked the table in his little fit of temper.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy... but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

An incredibly loud clap of thunder interrupted this speech, timed perfectly with the main doors of the great hall crashing open.

Everyone jumped- with the possible exception of Dumbledore himself- and turned to see who was there.

x x x


	22. Method In The Madness

x x x

**Chapter 22: Method In The Madness**

x x x

Bartemius Crouch Jr hated children. And Mudbloods. And especially Mudblood children.

And now here he was, the spitting image-

_(SPIT! Spit on the floor. It's already wet, and nobody's watching!)_

-the spitting _spitting_ image of Alastor Mad-Eye Moody. About to walk into the greatest hive of Mudblood scum and Muggle-loving villainy this side of Atlantis _(damn Salem!)_.

His skin _itched_. Hideous visage- ravaged by war, grizzled and greying- hacked to pieces before he was born _(he took some of it off himself, and all)_ worn like a ghastly Hallowe'en mask over his own handsome face.

The false leg _hurt_, stabbed up at the knee-stump where he really meant to walk on two full and whole legs.

And the eye. Mad-Eye not for nothing. Spinning and whirling, seeing straight through flesh and stone. Nothing was hidden, and nothing sat still. Would make you sick.

_Did_ make him sick, the first time. And the third. Still a little. Just not so... projectile.

Oh how proud his father-

_(Next Minister of Magic, last he'd heard before Azkaban... and doesn't it serve him right that fell through and down to hell?)_

-how proud his father would be to see him now. Looking like a hero. A good honest job _(first time for everything) _ even if it was a cover up. Teaching at Hogwarts was _such an honour_.

_SPIT ON HIS GRAVE!_

In lieu of such pleasure, he spat on the floor again.

And then the storm broke with a loud crash of thunder. And he threw the doors open to the Great Hall.

Silence.

Deathly, echoing... deafening Silence all around him.

And he stepped in with a clunk of heavy wood and a shuffle of soft shoe behind it. Clunk, shuffle, stab the walking stick. Stab, try to make a hole in the floor.

Clunk, shuffle, stab.

Stabbity stab.

And he stared around the dumbstruck crowd with that wild wild eye. Spinning and dizzying.

_Hufflepuff_; His house, his father's house, and _his_ father's house.

Surrounded with the mediocre, the Mudbloods, the fools and the dregs of the Wizarding world. Losers. Pathetic, weak. Fools. Children... still children, even when they become old men.

Clunk, shuffle, stab.

_Gryffindor_; Mudbloods, Mudbloods and madmen! Boys? And girls... mad mad little Mudblood girls.

Clunk, shuffle, stab.

_Ravenclaw_; The bookworms and the brainiacs. Clever-clogs, smarty-pants, et cetera ad infinitum ad nauseum. Snooty little snots! And Mudbloods, half of them.

Clunk, shuffle, stab.

_Slytherin_; traitor-spawn, vicious little demons and cowards, the lot of them! Older names on younger faces.

Avery, Carrow, Crabbe, Gibbon, Goyle, Jugson, Macnair, Malfoy, Mulciber, Nott, Rosier, Travers, Wilkes, Yaxley. Mirror images. The apple never falls far from the tree.

Clunk, shuffle, stab.

And now the staff table. Snape, oh Severus Snape.

There was nothing- _NOTHING!_- Barty the younger hated more than a Death Eater... _THAT GOT AWAY!_

Snape didn't look at him. Didn't dare. Scared of Mad-Eye? Still a trace of the old ways? _THAT JUST MAKES IT WORSE, YOU TREACHEROUS HALF-BLOOD BASTARD!_

And Dumbledore. Muggle-lover to end all.

Barty stopped in front of the senile old genius. Face set in the stone it felt carved out of, he held out his hand.

Shook hands with his Master's nemesis.

"No trouble finding us, I hope?" Dumbledore asked amicably.

"Dustbins." he grumbled back, shaking his head darkly.

The conniving old coot nodded far too pleasantly, and gestured to a seat next to him. Barty took it... and some food that remained on the table.

Sausages. Fork. Stab. Therapeutic, somehow.

Stab stabbity stab stab. Stab.

He eyed the students carefully, as he ate.

Dumbledore droned in the background. "May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody." Introduced him by the wrong (right) name. Not a one applauded. He deserved a standing ovation for his acting skills, but only got the old man and the half-giant clapping inanely, instead.

He saw his target, seated at the Gryffindor table. Harry James Potter. Couldn't have called him Harold and then abbreviated? Nooo, of course not. Mudblood mother picked the name, no doubt.

Potter was talking to his friends. Barty wished he could lip-read. Moody could lip-read. Might be suspicious if he failed at that.

He made a mental note not to care.

Barty glanced at his watch, briefly. Time for his medicine. He took a swig of Polyjuice. Tasted like bile and gym-socks. He pretended it didn't bother him. Now where was that standing ovation?

But he continued to pretend not to care about that either, as the old Muggle-lover began to speak once more.

x x x

Everyone was still staring at Professor Moody, and now quietly buzzing with whispers about him as well, when the Headmaster cleared his throat pointedly. "As I was saying."

Jack was genuinely impressed at how he managed to silence the entire hall with just those words, in a calm and collected tone. He wished he was able to stop Gwen and Owen arguing in the Hub that effectively.

"We are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're _JOKING!_" one of the Weasley twins yelled at the top of his voice. Everyone else seemed to agree, and laughed with him.

Even Dumbledore chuckled briefly, before correcting him calmly, "I am not joking, Mr. Weasley. Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar-"

Most unfortunately, as Jack really liked jokes that started out like that, Professor McGonagall interrupted him with a pointed cough.

"Er- but maybe this is not the time... no." Dumbledore, seeming vaguely bemused, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. Well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

Draco Malfoy pulled out a book and buried his nose in it intently, at this point... but it was obvious that he was still listening, even if he was being purposefully irreverent.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities... until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

Those two words; 'death toll' suddenly captured Jack's full attention, and instead of watching the new teacher with calculating interest, he now turned to listen more carefully to Dumbledore.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."

Ianto coughed loudly at this, drawing attention and quickly turning the indignant splutter into a well-faked episode of choking on his pumpkin juice. Several students laughed at this. When it was over, Jack met his eyes across the hall, with an amused smirk.

Ianto stared steadily back at him with a 'don't even think about it' look written clearly across his face.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore had continued talking. "The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Hallowe'en. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I am so going to enter this thing." Theodore Nott- a fourth-year boy at the Slytherin table hissed excitedly. Draco Malfoy peered over his book with a 'you are insane' stare at Nott, for this.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts." Dumbledore continued, "The heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age- that is to say, seventeen years or older- will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration."

Instant uproar. Every single student who wasn't accommodated by this age limit yelled their outrage at this injustice. Even a few who were old enough- mostly the older girls at Gryffindor table- were clearly angry as well.

Dumbledore had to raise his voice over the crowd, to continue, "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."

He was looking right at the identically infuriated and indignant Weasley twins as he said this.

"I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen." This warning duly issued, he suddenly seemed much less stern and serious, as he added brightly, "The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected."

Jack sat back, contemplating this strange- and as yet unexplained- event that would be replacing Quidditch. Purely out of morbid curiosity, he pondered aloud, "I wonder how he'll keep the underage students out..."

"You mean try to." Nott added, grinning.

"Yes, or that." Jack said idly, as Dumbledore dismissed the school, for the evening.

"And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

"Password time." the new Slytherin sixth-year prefect, Adrian Yaxley, announced darkly, while the rest of the school began to depart. The Slytherins in earshot were all still seated, waiting to hear the new password, "Draco, it's your turn."

"About damned time." Draco said darkly, putting his book away, "I told you _and_ Flint, I wanted last call, last year."

"Tough shit. Password." Yaxley commanded.

Draco rolled his eyes, "_Bad Wolf_."

"You really hated Lupin, huh?" Draco's girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson asked icily.

Draco just gave her a 'well duh' look, and stood to leave.

Yaxley also left, "First years! Follow me, or get lost and die!"

"He's such a charmer..." Nott muttered sarcastically, before following Draco and Pansy out of the Hall.

Jack just stared after them for a moment, before blinking and realising that the Great Hall was almost empty.

"You okay?" Ianto asked him, having made his way over from the now-deserted Hufflepuff table.

"I'm... fine." Jack said, staring with wide eyes where Draco had left.

"You're not thinking of entering the tournament, are you?" Ianto asked warily, "Because I know how you react to the words 'death toll'..."

Jack forced a sardonic grin at that remark, "You know me. I just can't resist the challenge."

"Jack." Ianto warned.

Jack held his hands up defensively, "Look, I've got absolutely no plans on getting myself killed this year. Happy?"

Ianto sulked a little, "That's the best I'm going to get from you on the subject, isn't it?"

"Yes. It really is." Jack said, nodding and smiling slightly.

Ianto sighed, unable to resist smiling a little as well, "Alright, then. I guess I'll have to accept that."

x x x

As soon as he had politely ditched Ianto in the kitchen corridor, which led down to the Hufflepuff dormitories, Jack tore off down a secret passageway.

He managed to make it to the Slytherin common room in time to quote the new- and suspicious- password and get inside before anyone else. He vaguely wondered how the password had been changed while Yaxley was still showing the new first years the deliberately-confusing scenic route through the dungeons.

Not that it really mattered. The important part was that it worked.

He settled himself in the large armchair nearest to the fire. Draco's favourite chair. And he waited. Draco Malfoy had said the magic words.

_Bad Wolf_.

It couldn't be an accident. Not after what he had seen with the Doctor and Rose.

After a few minutes, the doors opened again, and students poured in. Second years and older. Yaxley and the first years were probably doing laps of Filch's office, by now. Jack didn't look directly at them, only noticed them in his peripheral vision, until Draco Malfoy demanded loudly, "What do you think you're doing, Harkness?"

"Sitting." Jack said cheerfully, turning to look up at Draco... who was really making great effort to loom over him in an intimidating way. He was failing at it, but he was certainly trying.

"That's my chair." Draco said sharply.

Jack just stared up at him for a second, before shrugging, "Ask nicely and I'll move."

Draco clearly didn't understand this concept.

Jack wasn't disputing Draco's claim on the chair, as long as he was polite and civilized about it. Jack watched calmly as the wannabe ruler of Slytherin House seethed quietly, metaphorical wounds still fresh from losing their fight earlier, he didn't seem keen to argue.

Finally, through gritted teeth, he spoke, "Please get out of my seat, Harkness."

Jack grinned, immediately standing up and moving to the couch opposite, "Please, call me Jack." he replied cheerfully.

Draco eyed him sceptically for a moment, before giving his usual chair a suspicious look, "Alright, what did you do to it?"

Jack laughed, "Now you're starting to get it." But then he shook his head, "I don't want to play that game right now, Draco. And I really do want to be friends."

The entire house (minus Yaxley and the still absent first-years) were watching this exchange with rapt attention. Everyone knew Draco Malfoy- the uncrowned prince of Slytherin- had lost to a second-year earlier that evening... and now said second-year was indirectly challenging his authority within the common room itself.

"Define friendship?" Draco asked carefully. It wasn't as if he didn't know the meaning of the word (although there was always that possibility), but rather he wanted to know the terms of this obviously precarious truce Jack was offering.

Jack just shrugged, "You don't dismiss me as an ignorant child, and I'll be sure to aim my more destructive games at the Weasley twins instead of you, in future. Or there's always the normal use of the word 'friend'... if either of us really understands that concept."

Draco's lip twitched slightly at that last, and he nodded slowly, "Deal."

Jack grinned brightly, standing up, "Deal."

And they shook on it.

x x x

Cedric Diggory was in a very bad mood. He had spent half the summer coming up with plans for the Hufflepuff team's Quidditch strategy, and now it was all for nothing.

So, when a pair of second-years approached him in the common room, when everyone under the age of seventeen should have already been in bed (and the rest of the House had been discussing the tournament at length while Cedric sulked), he was understandably irritable and short with them.

"What is it?" he demanded sharply.

The shorter of the two, elbowed his classmate in the ribs, and it was the taller boy who spoke. "We were just wondering about Quidditch this year." Albert Cadwallader said tentatively, while Ianto Jones rolled his eyes and looked almost as irritable as Cedric felt.

"What he means." Ianto cut across him, "Is that everyone in second, third and fourth year agrees that it would be a good idea if the official ruling on Quidditch somehow failed to affect the routines of our school teams. We wanted to suggest that you talk with Montague, Johnson and Davies, and set up the games unofficially."

"What if one of us gets picked as a champion?" Zacharias Smith- one of Cedric's team-mates- asked from the table, where the rest of the team had apparently been eavesdropping.

"And that's why teams have reserve players." Jones said curtly, while Cadwallader nodded eagerly in agreement.

Zach scoffed, but Cedric seriously considered the possibility. It wouldn't be quite the same as the school's usual Quidditch Cup games, but this way, they could make a point that they were there to have fun, not Bludger each other to death.

Maybe not mention this to Montague, then.

"It doesn't sound like a bad idea, Zach." Cedric said diplomatically, causing his friend to snort derisively and proceed to ignore him. He turned to the two second-years, "Is there a particular reason you brought this subject up?"

"Tryouts." Cadwallader said immediately.

Jones, on the other hand, was grinning suspiciously. Cedric never really understood how the young Machiavelli here could possibly have evaded Slytherin House at his Sorting. "Yeah, tryouts." he agreed, far less believably than his friend.

Cedric decided to let it go for now. Give the kid the benefit of the doubt. It was a good idea, anyway. "Alright, then. Tryouts will be two weeks from Sunday. I'll put a note up." He nodded and wandered off, greatly cheered up at this simple solution, and already planning for the year ahead.

x x x


	23. Quidditch

x x x

**Chapter 23: Quidditch: It's Not Just A Game, It's A Lifestyle**

x x x

It was less than a week into the school term, and already homework was beginning to add up Transfiguration, Potions and History all wanted essays by the following week!

So it was that Gwen, Owen and Tosh found themselves sitting in the library, together. Up to their eyes in books and parchment.

Jack and Ianto had made separate excuses to leave, only a few minute ago.

"They've done this every day so far, this year, and they think we don't notice." Gwen muttered darkly.

"I think they know we know. They just don't care." Tosh said vaguely, causing Gwen to frown slightly, scrunching up her nose in thought. "It was only once a week last year. Slightly more tactful." Tosh added, unconcerned.

"What the fuck do you think they're doing, anyway?" Owen asked tactlessly. And a little too loudly, as he earned a resentful glare, which could probably melt steel, and a vicious 'shhh'ing noise from the librarian.

Both girls turned cold stares on him, as if to say 'well duh'.

"Owen..." Gwen said in a rather frosty tone, "You need to watch your swear-words."

Tosh nodded, and added pointedly, "Especially their literal meanings."

Owen pulled a revolted face, "Oh, ewww! That's disgusting! I mean, they're- well, we're all really, at the moment- only, what? Twelve!" He made vomiting noises for emphasis, before loudly declaring, "Damn!"

And this was how Owen Harper got banned from the Hogwarts Library.

x x x

Meanwhile, in what appeared to be a disused classroom on the seventh floor, Jack and Ianto sat together, on an especially large and unnaturally comfortable couch.

Jack was sitting cross-legged, his half-finished history homework beside him, almost entirely forgotten at this point. Ianto was lying on his back, with his head rested on Jack's lap, reading '_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2)_'.

Rather distractedly, he would have to admit... as Jack was running fingers through his hair, at the same time. In fact, this was the second-least productive way to get any work done. Ever.

There had been that one time that Jack had managed- against all odds- to find the Archives at Torchwood, and... yes, no further work had been done by either of them that afternoon. Not for lack of trying on Ianto's part... which had been, well, interesting... to say the least.

Jack had always been very good at distracting him.

"I don't want to go back to the common room." Ianto muttered idly, "I don't like it. It's too... Hobbitty."

Jack chuckled at this description, "Yeah, I don't much like sleeping in the same room as Mark Avery, either. I keep expecting to wake up and find him catatonic with shock because he murdered me in the night."

Ianto rolled his eyes, not at all impressed by the way Jack always failed to take his own deaths seriously at all.

"We could just spend the night here." Jack suggested, smirking, "It'd be nice. Just you and me. Especially after a whole summer sharing a room with Owen bloody Harper."

Ianto wholeheartedly agreed. Owen was quite possibly the world's worst roommate in the history of the universe. Ever.

Then again, it might not have been so bad if Gwen hadn't been there too, to take very vocal offence at everything Owen did. Shrieking matches had ensued. Tosh had wisely stayed out of it, but the five of them sharing such close living arrangements had definitely _not_ been a good idea.

"But what if we get caught?" he asked, sitting up and turning to face Jack.

Jack oh-so-casually put an arm around Ianto's waist, pulling him closer, so that he was leaning against Jack's chest.

Ianto didn't object or resist. It had taken a while, last year, but he had eventually come to the conclusion that Jack was genuinely _not_ interested in sex at this age. Physical contact in general, on the other hand, he seemed to crave like a drug. So instead of protesting, Ianto just relaxed and allowed Jack to hold him.

"That's why we went to the trouble of finding a room with a lock." Jack pointed out with a cheeky grin.

Oh, so _that_ was the reason, Ianto thought sardonically, smirking to show his feelings on this as clearly as if he had said them aloud.

It had taken him by surprise when they had found this room, to discover a big heavy padlock hanging from the inside of the door, labelled in striking bold letters; '**GUARANTEED MAGICPROOF**'. It was almost suspiciously convenient, actually, if he thought about it for long. Although, with Jack in the room with him, he never did get much opportunity to consider it too carefully.

"No, I mean, being out after curfew. What if someone notices."

"There's still a curfew?" Jack asked, looking genuinely surprised by this, "I thought that was just because of Sirius Black?"

Ianto shook his head, "No student may leave their common rooms after nine o'clock, unless they are- or are accompanied by- a Prefect. It's a standard school rule. They brought it down to eight o'clock for Black, but we'll still get in trouble if someone finds out we spent the night out of our respective common rooms."

Jack laughed, "I can see it now. Search parties and more sleeping bags in the Great Hall."

Ianto hit him lightly on the chest, "I can just imagine Professor Snape ambushing us at breakfast, and asking 'what have you two been up to, all night?' And, of course, Owen would be there... obscene insinuations would be made."

Jack barked with laughter, almost throwing Ianto off him, if he hadn't kept his grip around his waist. "I think it'd be worth getting in trouble for staying out all night, just to see _that!_"

Ianto squirmed a bit, until he was sitting up properly now, and gave Jack a baleful, 'you really think that's funny?' look.

"Would almost pity Owen, if he was blunt enough for Snape to get it." Jack continued brightly, gazing into the middle-distance as he envisioned this sequence of events.

Ianto chuckled, "Almost." he agreed darkly.

Jack sighed, and turned to face Ianto, smirking, "We should take Divination next year." he suggested cheerfully.

Ianto snorted with suppressed laughter, and picked up the book he had been reading earlier, closed it with a snap, and hit Jack over the head with it. "Did you see that coming?" Jack rubbed his head, and eyed him with mock threat in his gaze. Ianto just laughed, "Come on, genius. It's nearly eight-thirty, and I don't trust the staircases in the main tower."

Jack affected his best kicked-puppy look, but reluctantly began picking up his unfinished homework, as well. "Spoil-sport."

Ianto turned his back on him, but answered both sincerely and in a teasing tone, "Maybe when we're older."

He also made a mental note to do his best to become a Prefect, if they stayed at Hogwarts long enough. Just so they wouldn't _technically _ be breaking any rules.

x x x

Word had spread like wildfire that Quidditch had not, in fact, been cancelled. The four teams had taken it upon themselves to continue, regardless of Dumbledore's word.

After all, he had only ever said the Inter-House Quidditch Cup was cancelled. They could still play, it just wasn't official anymore. No big prize, just the game... and in Slytherin's opinion, the thrill of beating the hell out everyone in spite of the games being labelled as 'friendly'.

Cullen Montague was, by popular rumour, almost as bad as Oliver Wood had been. Worse than Marcus Flint. Competitive streak a mile wide. He wanted to win this unofficial, friendly and in no way to be taken seriously Quidditch season, at all costs.

All tryouts were on the same day. Someone had the bright idea of each team taking a couple of hours, starting with Slytherin, then Ravenclaw, then Hufflepuff, then Gryffindor.

So it was that Jack Harkness turned up at the Slytherin tryouts at eight AM, that day. The rest of _his_ team were there with him. This seemed to upset Montague, just a little bit.

"What the hell are that lot doing here?" he snapped, pointing at them angrily.

"We're Jack's cheerleading squad, what do we look like?" Owen sniped.

"We're just here to watch." Tosh said politely, "We promise we won't be any trouble."

Then Montague got a look at the broomstick that Jack was carrying... and froze. "Is that a Lightening Chaser?" he asked in awe.

Jack simply grinned smugly by way of an answer.

"Very nice." Montague said with a bit of a leer as he eyed up the object in question, "Zero to one-forty in twelve seconds, literally no turning circle. They say it can outmanoeuvre a Firebolt."

"Just not outrun it." Jack put in, proving once and for all that even Captain Jack Harkness was not above the strange fixation most human males seemed to have for sporting statistics. "So... when do we start?" Jack asked, glancing around to see the rest of the Slytherin team lurking nearby, and only three others waiting to try out.

Seemed a bit pathetic, in Jack's opinion. Especially as this was supposed to be one of the two teams to bet on to win the School Cup... on the years when the School Cup was actually up for grabs, that is.

"_We_ start tryouts in about five minutes." Montague said, indicating the others behind him, "_You_ don't quite qualify for that just yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Owen sniped, glowering.

Jack held up a hand to stop Owen from insulting further, and for once it actually worked. "What exactly would convince you to consider me for the team, Montague?" he asked coolly. The fact that bribery was involved wasn't as surprising to him as it appeared to be to Owen. Or a rather stunned and gaping Gwen for that matter.

Montague seemed thoughtful for a moment, as if seriously considering just what favour he could extort from the younger Slytherin. Finally, he made up his mind, and said firmly, "If I let you try out, I take the Lightening Chaser for every game we play. Whether you make the team or not."

Jack blinked at this obscure request. Stifled snickering behind him drew his attention to Owen a moment before Gwen oh-so-casually hit her fellow Gryffindor upside the head.

Jack rolled his eyes, "You know what?" he said with a sigh, "Owen's got a very good point there. No. I'm not going to let you ride my broomstick."

Owen fell over laughing like a maniac. Ianto took the opportunity to kick him while he was down.

Some muffled chortling from the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team reached their ears, and Montague's face turned red when he realised what had just been insinuated. "You rotten little-"

"Aww, c'mon, Montague, give him a chance anyway." Draco Malfoy called, either not getting the joke or- more likely, judging by the grin- having the composure to pretend he didn't.

"Fuck off, the lot of you! Little bastards!" Montague yelled at the group of second-years, before turning and stalking back to his own team. He proceeded to bark out orders like a seriously pissed-off drill sergeant, while the Torchwood team retreated, laughing, to the stands to watch.

x x x

"This is ridiculous." Gwen muttered, trying not to laugh.

"Should be fun to watch." Owen put in, grinning, "Anyone know a spell to turn parchment into popcorn?"

Tosh smiled faintly, and sat quietly back, watching intently. "I wonder if they'll even allow it." she said thoughtfully.

"This is Ianto we're talking about." Owen pointed out, "Mr Encyclopaedia. If he says it's allowed in the rulebook, they can't stop it."

"Well, they can... but it wouldn't be fair." Gwen said, trying not to giggle at that detail. They were all in high-spirits at the prospect of what they were about to witness.

The Hufflepuff Quidditch tryouts were about to begin, and Jack was actually going to attempt to join them.

Ianto was right there with them, and thanks to Jack leaving his commlink on, they were able to hear everything from the stands.

"This is a joke!" Diggory declared, staring at the lone Slytherin standing only slightly apart from the group of his fellow Hufflepuffs.

"No, if this was a joke it would have started with three comically mismatched characters walking into a bar." Jack said cheerfully.

Ianto looked around pointedly, "This doesn't look like a bar to me." he commented in his best ironic tone.

Diggory looked supremely annoyed at them both. "Look, just get out of here. You can't try out for another House's Quidditch team."

"Actually..." Ianto said, producing a book from his shoulder-bag and opening it to a marked page, "There's no rule against it, even if this year's matches were official. Which they're not."

Diggory reluctantly accepted the offered book and glanced at it briefly, "You've got to be kidding me." he muttered, clearly surprised by what he had just read. He then looked up at Jack, "Why?" he asked, as if in shock. As if utterly horrified by the complete disloyalty Jack was displaying towards his own House. "Why would you do this?"

"Well, besides the fact Montague wouldn't let me try out for my own House team without making unreasonable demands?" Jack asked, far too innocently... something in the tone of the last two words made it sound like he was agreeing with Owen's obscene insinuations on the subject. "I promised Draco Malfoy I would do it just to annoy him."

"You know, I could say something about Jack playing for the other team." Owen observed to the girls, up in the stands, "But... well, we know Jack."

"Yes, he doesn't seem interested in choosing a side in that context. At all." Tosh agreed in perfect calm and all seriousness, as if this was not the hilariously funny subject Owen knew it to be, at all. Owen sulked slightly that she didn't seem to get his sense of humour here.

"Well..." Diggory was saying, still eyeing the book sceptically. Owen would be willing to bet it was '_Hogwarts: A History_'. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let you try out..." He still sounded incredibly dubious, but he _had_ actually conceded to Ianto's inhumanly perfect logic.

Owen idly wondered if the tea-boy was in some way related to Vulcans... then he went on to wonder if Vulcans or anything remotely like them really existed.

The actual try-outs were, in Owen's opinion, interminably dull.

First came the Chasers. A bunch of kids flying around in circles, throwing a big red ball at each other. Yes, Owen had watched Quidditch _matches_ last year... but this was just warm-up-exercises, and held precisely zero appeal to his mind. If someone was not kicking someone else's arse on a scoreboard- or engaging in unnecessary violence- it just wasn't a sport.

Jack did manage to just about keep up with the Chaser trials, but the other challengers performed better by far. In the end, Albert Cadwallader was signed up, alongside the two Chasers from the previous year- Zacharias Smith and Megan Jones.

Then Jack sat out for the Keeper trials. Made no comment or explanation for not participating, just sat down on the sidelines and watched.

Next up were the Beaters. Hitting magically-animated metal balls at other players with intent to wound. Owen sat forward eagerly, especially as Jack took to the air to join in.

After the first couple of minutes (and four injuries), only Jack and two third-years remained in the air. Amazingly, none of them had been responsible for the injuries... the other contenders had simply failed to defend themselves from their own zooming weapons.

Diggory levitated wooden targets into the air, and challenged the three players to hit them. Jack had _perfect_ aim, while the other two still did very well, but missed a few times.

"Who else already guessed Jack would be a good Beater?" Owen asked, laughing.

He was promptly hit on the back of the head by a rolled up copy of the Quibbler, held by Gwen. He didn't even bother to retaliate, too entranced in the contest that had ceased to be a contest. Jack won by a perfect score, as opposed to an average of three-in-four hits for each of the other two.

"Wow." Diggory said, impressed, as the three landed, "Very impressive."

"Montague, you dumb git!" Malfoy's voice could be heard yelling from the far side of the stands, "Look what you did, now! Just wait until I tell me father you tried to sabotage our Quidditch team!"

Gwen and Owen couldn't help laughing. Even the usually reserved Tosh was chuckling quietly.

Diggory looked up at the Slytherin side of the stands briefly, then chuckled and turned to Jack, "Yeah, I bet that jerk Cullen is kicking himself now." he crowed, grinning.

"So I made the team?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Ah, well. As to that." Diggory said, looking supremely uncomfortable all of a sudden, "While your friend was right that there aren't any rules against trying out..."

"There are rules against _playing_ for another team, aren't there?" Jack asked, deflating noticeably.

"Actually..." Ianto said clearly, stepping out to join them, "Those rules only apply to official matches. If you read carefully, it says; '_No Hogwarts student may compete for the School Quidditch Cup on behalf of another House's team_'. But we're not playing for the School Cup this year. None of the rules even need to apply."

"Little loophole-loving-" Cedric grumbled, in a tone that managed to be almost amicable rather than genuinely upset by the turn of events. Ianto actually grinned with pride. Yes, he was good at finding the loopholes, and no mistake.

"And do you really want to give Montague the chance to change his mind?" Jack asked pointedly.

This sealed it, "Your hired." He then looked to the other two Hufflepuffs who had tried out for Beater. "As are both of you. You can both play officially next year, but I'm sorry guys, I really can't pass this up."

"No problem." one of them said, shrugging.

"We could play alternate games, this year?" the other suggested... clearly they were friends, though the didn't do the talking-together thing anywhere near as well as the Weasley twins could.

"Sure thing." Diggory said, grateful that they hadn't been upset by his decision.

"This isn't fair!" Angelina Johnson's voice called as she swept across the field in a swath of red flowing robes, followed closely by the rest of her team. Gryffindor were only short by one Keeper this year, and nobody expected any attempt to reorganise of the already well-oiled machine that was their team. Most people in the stands had already started to wander towards the exits. "You can't just let a Slytherin on your team like that!"

"It's not the official season, and he sought us out, not the other way around. I don't see the problem." Diggory said blankly.

"Well if you're going to let him play, then I'm going to let the other houses try-out for Gryffindor." she shouted back at him.

Everyone who had been making to leave turned to watch. then most of them started making their way down towards the pitch instead. Very quickly.

"Uh... Angelina..." Harry Potter said nervously. Almost fearfully.

"Your funeral." Ianto muttered distantly, seeming to notice the same thing as Potter.

"Shhh!" one Weasley twin hissed loudly at Angelina, seemingly horrified.

"Everyone in the school wants to play with our boy-hero here." the other twin pointed out, earning a glare from Potter, however true it might be.

"Now you've given them an open invitation!" the first twin cried in despair.

Diggory looked around with wide eyes at the large crowd of students filling the pitch from all sides, eager as the worst kind of squealing fan-girls. The rest of the Hufflepuff team had already taken to the air. It really was the only escape-route at this point.

"It's a deal." he said quickly, even as he mounted his broom, "Good luck with that." and he took off, following the rest of his team.

Jack held his hand out to Ianto, who rolled his eyes, "This is why we aren't in Gryffindor, isn't it?" Ianto asked, as he accepted Jack's offered hand. "We know the meaning of the word tact."

"Sometimes." Jack agreed, nodding. He looked to the Gryffindors, "Sorry, guys." and soon they were both in the air, heading for the safety of the stands. Racing brooms might not be designed for passengers, but Jack seemed capable of compensating for that.

Owen ran over that last thought in his mind once more... then fell over laughing madly yet again.

x x x


	24. Constant Vigilance!

x x x

**Chapter 24: Constant Vigilance!**

x x x

Defence Against The Dark Arts classes were on Fridays, for the second-years. Due to limited space in Professor Moody's schedule, Slytherin and Ravenclaw shared the afternoon lesson, while the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had separate morning classes.

Tosh still wondered how seven years worth of students could fit into a five-day schedule like that, when just their own year took up an entire day of this teacher's time... but she was working on the quantum transference equations for it, and was sure she would figure it out by the end of the school year.

Hopefully before Christmas, because she had already decided to spend the holidays working on their mysterious crystal again.

Not to mention her other projects. She had agreed (mostly to shut them up) to help the Weasley twins corner a commercial market for Muggle gadgets that would operate within magical fields. Game Boys appeared to be first on the list, because the twins had somehow gotten their hands on one over the summer.

Unlike the previous year, this class's focus had shifted away from defence against magical monsters, and more towards defence against other wizards.

Professor Moody was a very strange man, who had proved in their first lesson that he was able to literally see out the back of his head. And through solid wooden desks. It did unsettle her slightly to imagine that he most probably could therefore see through clothing as well.

Magical X-ray vision.

She wanted a piece of that, but not for the twisted purposes Owen would routinely mutter about. Imagine the potential, to see inside of delicate alien artefacts without resorting to the use of hazardous radiation!

"Now, today we're going to be learning shielding and disarming spells." Moody announced, "I need a volunteer."

"Oh, pick Jack! Pick Jack!" Malcolm Radford shouted gleefully, from the Slytherin side of the room. "He beat Draco Malfoy in a duel!"

"That really wasn't a duel." Mark Avery retorted irritably, glowering.

"Perhaps you'd care to volunteer instead, then, _Avery?_" Moody asked directly. The tone he employed for the boy's name seemed rather threatening, in Tosh's opinion.

"N-no thank you, sir." Avery stammered, bowing his head and cringing a little.

Jack glanced around at the eager faces waiting to see this, then shrugged casually and walked up to the front of the class.

"Now then." Moody said, eyeing Jack up in a calculating way, "What I want you to do is-" He hesitated, and then demanded, "Mr Harkness, why are you holding a witch's make-up mirror in your pocket?"

Jack pulled his hand out of said pocket, still clutching the mirror, and flashed it in the light, with a bemused smirk. It was the same mirror he had used in the duel with Draco.

"I'm vain?" he suggested with all false innocence, managing to illicit snorts and splutters of laughter from the Slytherins. Tosh smiled faintly as well, but few of her fellow Ravenclaws seemed to see the funny side.

"Put it away." Moody commanded curtly.

"Spoil-sport." Jack grumbled, obeying.

"Now, Harkness. You are going to cast a curse at me." Moody explained, "And I am going to block it. Then I will teach the rest of you to block it as well. Go."

Jack, for his part, seemed to take it in a lot faster than Tosh would, reacting immediately to the order to attack. Tosh would have questioned it. In fact, the whole classroom was startled by the speed and immediacy of Jack's attack. He had always been a fast-draw with a gun, and no less competent now with a wand.

"Rictusempra!" Jack called out clearly. The flash of magical energy flew across the front of the classroom at a far slower speed than logic dictates a light-based attack should. It was fast, but Tosh was still able to follow it with her eyes, something that was impossible to do with the likes of a laser-gun for example.

Moody had plenty of time, in Tosh's opinion, to react to defend himself. In the time that spell took to cross the room, Jack or Gwen could have drawn a gun and got off a full round of bullets... and possibly still had time to duck.

Sure enough, with a resounding shout of "Protego Speculus!" Moody conjured a shimmering magical shield. It covered all sides, a perfect sphere of near-transparent energy shifting and swirling around him like quicksilver.

And the spell reflected off it, almost directly back at Jack. Jack's left hand hadn't strayed far from the pocket he had put the mirror in... and he had already proven he was quick on the draw. Now he pulled the mirror out again, and caught the spell on it, reflecting it back at Moody's shield.

This resulted, predictably, in the spell bouncing back again, flashing brightly as it hit both the shield and the mirror. It was rather spectacular to watch as Jack caught the curse three more times with perfect aim each time, before giving in and deflecting it into a blank wall instead.

Silence reigned for a couple of seconds, as Jack and Moody faced each other across the room, the shield spell still shimmering around the slightly shocked but gleefully grinning Professor.

Then Malcolm Radford and Zoe Alderton started clapping, and within seconds the entire Slytherin side of the class was applauding. Tosh joined in, which encouraged a few of her classmates to do the same... and soon it was the entire room.

A standing ovation, really.

Moody chuckled, lowering his wand, which allowed his shielding spell to dissipate. The applause died down when they saw that he wanted to speak. Everyone was intimidated by Mad-Eye Moody. "Very impressive." he conceded to Jack, "Good reflexes. I like that. Now. This shielding charm isn't on the standard school curriculum, but if it was I'd place it at around third-year material. So it's going to be tricky for the lot of you to master."

He slowly waved his wand in a double-circle motion. Counter-clockwise, from his perspective. Everyone was watching with rapt attention.

"The incantation you'll need to know is Protego. Emphasis on the middle syllable there. Pro-TAY-go." As he said it that last time, he repeated the wand-movement, and cast the spell again. Then he turned to Jack. "You try it, Harkness."

Jack carefully mimicked the gesture and words- perfectly in Tosh's opinion- but nothing happened.

"Come on, now!" Moody snapped impatiently, "It's just like any other spell! You have to _want_ it to work!"

Jack glowered for a second. Clearly what he wanted to happen right now was an unpleasant curse that had nothing to do with self-defence. But then he tried once more, "Protego."

This time the shield appeared for a moment, but flickered like a bad hologram and died quickly.

Moody seemed to think this was good enough for now, however, "Alright, that's progress. Now for homework, I want you all to work on that spell. I will be throwing minor curses at each and every one of you next lesson, just to be sure. And I want you all to find out and list the spells that can and cannot be deflected..." he gave Jack a malicious grin, like this next part was entirely his fault and the class could thank him later, "By both the Protego spell _and_ mundane mirrors. I think you'll find the two don't quite match up. Class dismissed!"

And with that announcement, Moody stalked down the centre of the classroom, and out the door.

As soon as he was gone, the entire class burst into irritable grumbling. "Hufflepuff only got the one list!" one of the Ravenclaw boys- Marcus Belby- complained loudly.

"It's all Harkness's fault." Avery agreed just as loudly.

"I can't help that I'm brilliant." Jack retorted, dismissively. He had returned to his own desk, and was systematically pulling out books and checking marked pages.

Or so it seemed. It turned out that he was looking for one of the bookmarks. A scrap of parchment which he then handed to Tosh.

"I already did this assignment." he explained to Tosh, "Because I really needed to know when to block and when to dodge, if I got in a real fight."

"Draco doesn't count as a real fight?" Malcolm asked, trying not to laugh.

"If neither of us is trying to kill the other... it's not a real fight." Jack said idly, putting his books away.

Tosh looked at the parchment. It was a list of spells that a mirror could deflect. "This is kind of cheating, Jack..." she pointed out.

"Course it isn't." he dismissed, throwing his bag casually over his shoulder, "He said find out and make a list. No mention of research." He was already walking to the door, and raised his voice just enough to still be heard over his shoulder, "You've just found out. Share the knowledge, Ravenclaws."

"Hey, what about us?" Avery yelled.

Jack turned around and grinned almost evilly. "Ask me nicely."

And with that he left, followed by his fellow Slytherins, all clamouring to get the answers to their homework assignment without the effort, and leaving the other Ravenclaws to marvel at this casual generosity.

x x x

"Defence class is getting mad." Gwen said, that weekend, as she and Owen practiced the Protego charm in the courtyard. "It's starting to feel like we're preparing for a war or something."

Tosh was quietly and diligently writing up notes on something that had nothing to do with homework. It was technobabble, not mutilated Latin. Gwen _had_ looked over her shoulder earlier.

Ianto was taking far more pleasure than was entirely healthy in testing the integrity of Owen's Protego spells.

"Maybe Moody needs some PTSD therapy." Owen retorted, snickering as a leg-locker curse bounced harmlessly off his shield and into the ground, "Been through the grinder, that one."

Jack, meanwhile, was working on something else involving spellotape, transfiguration and his wrist strap. Gwen edged slightly further away from him, and cast her shield spell again.

"He's paranoid, bi-polar, bit schizophrenic, but I don't think he's completely crazy." Jack idly remarked, wrapping a leather strap (which had once been a piece of spellotape) around his forearm, and tapping it with his wand. Gwen took another step away, just in case anything exploded.

"How'd you figure that?" Owen asked, scowling... and lowering his guard enough for a stinging hex to hit his arm. "_Fuck!_ Damnit, Ianto!"

Jack managed not to answer, instead holding up his left arm to show the rest of the team what he had been making. "What d'you think, guys? Looks good, right?"

It was a holster for his wand. The weapon- because that's clearly what it was to him- fit neatly up the length of the back of his forearm, and was held there by two straps, one of which was fixed to The wrist strap. He demonstrated how it worked by drawing the wand, which caused the leather straps to magically break and refastened themselves as he did so... then again when he put it back.

"Looks like we're preparing for war, too." Gwen muttered, staring.

"Nope." Jack said cheerfully, "Just Quidditch against Slytherins." he added, pulling down the sleeve of his school robe down to completely conceal the wand and its holster.

"Where'd you learn to make it do that?" Tosh asked, fascinated.

Jack shrugged, "Library book. '_One Thousand And One Simple Spells To Make Your Life Easier_'. I swear it was probably written by Martha Stewart."

"Well." Ianto said casually, "She _is_ a witch."

x x x

Quidditch practice was _tough_. Homework was worse than last year, becoming about as tough on the brain as Quidditch was on the body. Jack Harkness found himself with almost _no_ free time, and wondering how the mortal students on the Quidditch teams handled the hours.

Within what felt like a few days, weeks had in fact passed, and it was the Saturday before Hallowe'en. The day the four team Captains had agreed would be designated to the Slytherin-Hufflepuff match.

The first match was usually held in the beginning of November, and reserved for the infamous grudge-match of Gryffindor vs Slytherin.

However, Montague wanted a shot at Hufflepuff, after Jack's little bit of treachery... but he was also planning to put his name in for the Triwizard Tournament (as were Warrington, Bole and Derrick). Cedric Diggory and Zacharias Smith of the Hufflepuff team had precisely the same idea in mind, and so Angelina Johnson had been happy for Gryffindor to step aside and get an extra month's worth of training in for her team.

So it was that on this chilly October afternoon, Jack found himself standing alongside the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, wearing the gold and black colours of their house, and facing off against the Slytherins at the far side of the pitch.

"Y'know, I should have tried out for Ravenclaw." Jack muttered idly, causing Cedric's to give him a very dubious look. "Blue really is more my colour than yellow... _or_ green."

Cedric shook his head, chuckling, "You're almost as vain as Zach."

Jack looked up at Zacharias, with a gleam in his eyes of one accepting a personal challenge. He must prove that he was not _almost_ as vain as this older boy. He was far more so. This expression caused most of the team to chuckle. It had honestly surprised him, just how easily he managed to get along with the lot of them... after they stopped assuming he was going to stab them in the back if they blinked, that is.

They met with the Slytherins in the middle of the pitch, and a glaring contest began on several fronts.

"Drop dead, Harkness." Montague growled threateningly.

Jack didn't even blink, "You first, sweetheart."

This seemed to offend the other Slytherins. Jack assumed it was the 'sweetheart' part, because death threats were generally considered friendly banter in the common room. "Fuck you!" Warrington contributed unhelpfully.

Jack put on a thoughtful expression for half a second, before answering, "Okay, sure. That could be fun." Everyone's heads swivelled to stare at him in shock, breaking their own individual glowering matches, as he continued brightly, "So long as you're not already walking funny by the end of the game."

Everyone was gaping at him, now.

What? Were twelve-year-olds not supposed to at least know some of the theory on the subject? Jack remembered quite clearly having learned the basics of '_Where Babies Come From_' from a picture-book with cartoony diagrams, when he was three. Which was perfectly normal in his own time.

However, nobody had the opportunity to comment on his witty retort, because an official adult presence was now arriving on the scene. Madam Hooch had agreed to referee these games, in spite of the fact that they were not official and it wasn't required in her contract that she do so.

"Now remember, people!" she called out, drawing only a few of the players' full attention. She seemed entirely oblivious to the exchange of a moment ago. "This is just a friendly match, so let's keep things civil!"

x x x

The Torchwood team were watching from the Ravenclaw stands... although you wouldn't know it, decked out in gold and black as all the students were. Nobody rooted for the Slytherin team, unless they _were_ Slytherins.

"I wish I knew clothing transfigurations." Ianto lamented, "Turn Owen's robes into a cheerleader's outfit."

"Some thoughts aren't for sharing, Ianto." Gwen informed him bluntly. Tosh, however, eyed Owen up, grinning at this suggestion.

"But he said himself he wanted to be part of Jack's cheerleading squad." Ianto protested, laughing.

Everyone was in high-spirits as the game played out before them. It was positively infectious.

Jack seemed to be taking indecent glee in being given legitimate cause to violently assault the opposing team, having already broken all the fingers on Bole's hand with his first shot, and bruised a few ribs on Montague five minutes into the game.

With one Beater out of action and their lead Chaser injured but playing on regardless, Slytherin were falling behind in the score, badly.

Ianto wondered at the fact that Jack was ignoring the first rule of playing his position, by not going after the Seeker. Then again, Jack seemed to have made some form of truce with Draco Malfoy, so that could be the reason. And the other Beater on the Hufflepuff team was making up for Jack's negligence in that area, anyway.

Half an hour into the game, a shocked gasp and roar rose up from the crowed. Warrington had taken a Bludger to the hip. He could barely even sit on the broom, and certainly couldn't walk once he landed.

"Aww, that's too bad, Warrington! Maybe next time!" Jack could be heard to yell, his voice carrying even over this distance and the roars of the crowd.

He had to be carried out on a stretcher, to gloating crows of laugher from Jack and the Hufflepuffs.

Hufflepuff practically steamrollered Slytherin after that dramatic injury. With no backup players, it was either keep going with only two Chasers, or forfeit entirely. Apparently there was too much vengeance and pride at stake for the forfeit to even be considered as a real option.

Ten minutes later, and a loud buzzer alerted Ianto to the fact that, while he had been watching Jack, someone had caught the Snitch and ended the game.

Final score: Slytherin, 180... Hufflepuff 170.

Slytherin had caught the Snitch.

x x x

Jack landed close to the Slytherin side of the pitch, carefully waiting for Montague to have disappeared into the locker-room, before doing so. He just caught Draco before he could also vanish. "Hey, Draco." he said, grinning smugly.

"What're you so happy about?" Draco asked with a scowl.

"Slytherin won... but I still rule." Jack cheered, laughing.

"You smug son of a-" Draco muttered under his breath, before shaking his head, "You really are a piece of work, Harkness."

"Thank you." Jack said brightly, "Enjoy the party tonight. You're the hero of the day, saving your House from a humiliating defeat."

Draco perked up at that thought, "That's true..."

"Few more minutes and it wouldn't have mattered who got the Snitch." Jack added smugly.

"Montague's an idiot." Draco said pointedly, "I told him to let you try out."

"Yeah, well I think I proved my point." Jack said brightly. He suddenly looked worried, "He _is_ going to be spending the night in the hospital wing, right?"

Draco laughed, "If I were you I'd spend the night with the Hufflepuffs. And this is _me_ you're talking to, here."

"Yeah." Jack said, vaguely distracted, "Spending the night with a Hufflepuff... good idea."

"Uh... Harkness." Draco asked warily, "I really don't mean to offend you by this, but... are you, um, homosexual?"

Jack didn't hesitate in the slightest, "No." Well he wasn't. That would have implied he was _only_ interested in other men. Technically means only _human_ males, too... if you really think about the nomenclature.

"So what you said to Warrington...?"

Jack laughed, "Really threw him off his game, didn't it?"

x x x


	25. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

x x x

**Chapter 25: Beauxbatons and Durmstrang**

x x x

It turned out that, mad as he was about it, Montague didn't seek revenge after that Quidditch match. Slytherin _had_ won, after all.

Jack chose to be paranoid, all the same.

He had started trying to get his wrist strap's camouflage function- which made it look, to the casual observer, like he was just wearing whatever that individual perceived as an ordinary watch- to stretch to cover his concealed wand holster... thus concealing it even when he wasn't wearing a long-sleeved shirt. He was still working on it. He wasn't the technical genius Tosh was, but he was fairly competent with the technology from his own century, and he was sure he could get it to work eventually.

Having acquired the allegiance of Draco Malfoy, and made Cullen Montague look like a complete fool, most of Slytherin House either respected, or in some cased feared him, now. There were underhanded mutterings about the Quidditch incident, calling him a traitor, but no one dared confront him directly about it.

This did afford him a few luxuries within the House common room, such as a seat near the fire, which some anxious first-or-third-year would always vacate on Draco's orders, if Jack wanted it. Not that he usually did, preferring to sit with his friends in his own year for the most part.

One of those privileges, however, was that on the night before Hallowe'en, when the entire school was gathered to greet the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, space was made where Jack and his friends could see what was going on clearly.

Gwen and Owen weren't so lucky, being stuck behind the fourth-year Gryffindors. He couldn't see where Ianto and Tosh had gotten to.

"Feels like we're on parade, like a bunch of show-dogs." Zoe grumbled.

Jack snorted, "Yeah, something like that." he muttered, trying not to think about how very eternally grateful he was that John Hart was nowhere near this decade, to have heard that casual remark.

"It's bloody freezing out here." Malcolm grumbled, "And they're late, now. Thought they were meant to get here at six o'clock?"

As if his words had somehow summoned it, something appeared on the horizon, flying towards them _very_ fast.

"Aha!" Dumbledore called out, "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Either that or we're getting nuked." Jack muttered, marvelling at the speed of the approaching... vehicle. He really had no idea what it was.

"Where?" several people asked around him.

"There!" someone yelled from the Gryffindor side.

"It's a dragon!" a Hufflepuff first-year cried.

"Don't be stupid! one of the Gryffindor first-years countered, "It's a flying house!"

"It's a bird!" Owen shouted ironically.

A moment later, and Jack could just imagine the inner torment at playing along with one of _Owen's_ jokes, Ianto shouted out the obvious, from somewhere a few rows behind Jack. "It's a plane!"

"It's... a Powerpuff Girl?" Gwen asked in shock, as the colour of the approaching object became clear. This might have been more funny, Jack reflected, if the cartoon in question existed in this time. As it was, however, Owen did manage to laugh loudly enough for everyone gathered there.

It turned out to be a giant powder-blue carriage, pulled by a dozen equally over-sized winged palomino horses.

And it was charging towards them not one bit slower than a guided missile.

Many of the other students started making moves to scatter, but just as it might have become a good idea to do just that, the horses turned and slowed surprisingly quickly- like slamming the breaks on a racing car- so that it came to a slightly-skidding stop right in front of the gathered crowd.

Very dramatic. Jack approved.

The size of the carriage was soon justified. Once some poor boy had the unfortunate task of opening the door and pulling the steps down (couldn't find a spell to do that, could they?) a giant of a woman stepped out before them. She was taller than Hagrid, though nowhere near as wide.

"Wow..." Malcolm whispered, awed.

Jack briefly toyed with the thought of horrifying his entire House with some casual insinuation about bigger being better... but he only just had the common decency- or was that common sense?- not to.

She _was_ good-looking, though... in a rather austere way.

It took Dumbledore's pointed clapping to break the student body out of their collective shock. Soon everyone was applauding the new arrival, and the group of teenage students gathered behind her, utterly dwarfed by her sheer size.

She smiled, and took only two strides to close the distance between herself and the Headmaster, holding her hand out to allow him to kiss it. She was so tall that he didn't even need to bow to do so. "My dear Madame Maxime." he said, "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr." the woman replied in a thick French accent, "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you." he answered brightly.

"My pupils." Madame Maxime said, gesturing to he huddled boys and girls behind her. They came to _Britain_ without coats? No wonder they were shivering. "'As Karkaroff arrived yet?"

"He should be here any moment. Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think." she answered, "But ze 'orses -"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them." Dumbledore reassured her, "The moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other- er- charges."

"My steeds require- er- forceful 'andling." Madame Maxime observed. Jack bit his lip to suppress the instinctive 'well duh' on the tip of his tongue.

"Hagrid can handle anything."

"Zey are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job." Dumbledore insisted.

'_And any other 'job' you want him for, I'll bet._' Oh, not-talking was almost painful, sometimes. He wondered if it was as bad as this for Owen.

"Very well." she conceded, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to." Dumbledore promised, also bowing.

"Come." Madame Maxime ordered, beckoning her students to follow her up into the castle.

Several freezing minutes passed in silence, before a Gryffindor upperclassman shouted out, "The lake! Look at the lake!"

Jack turned to look, and saw the rippling and waving, forming a whirlpool at the centre of water that at this hour of the night usually made a point of resembling black glass. And then what looked like the mast of a ship began to rise up from beneath the waves.

"It's the Flying Dutchman!" Owen yelled.

A few people got this reference, chuckling nervously... but they were all Muggle-born Ravenclaws. Once again, a member of his team had made a reference that was entirely out of place in this decade.

But sure enough, it _was_ a ship that was rising out of the depths of the lake.

It finally surfaced completely, and sailed slowly to the edge of the water. A gangplank was thrown down, and a not oversized but still tall man led another group of teenagers over to the welcoming committee at the front doors of the school. Like his counterpart, he was finely dressed, but while Madame Maxime had worn silks, he wore furs.

All his students wore furs, actually. Either they were seriously overcompensating for the weather, or they came from somewhere absolutely freezing. Jack took a moment of mild sadism to contemplate how the Beauxbatons students would have coped had they the need to visit Durmstrang.

When the leader of the Durmstrang students stepped into the light, he gave Jack a very unsettling feeling. He had a goatee, and a bearing of dark authority that somehow reminded Jack of the Master. His students weren't much better, giving off an air that just screamed power and dark magic. Each and every one of them was intimidating on some level.

He watched as one of them tripped and stumbled on the uneven ground, muttering Bulgarian swear-words for it. Well, some were more intimidating than others, obviously.

"Dumbledore!" the leader of these students called warmly, "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff." Dumbledore replied, shaking his hand.

"I dread to think what nicknames get passed behind _his_ back." Jack whispered to Malcolm and Zoe, both of whom snickered at this.

"Dear old Hogwarts." Karkaroff said with poorly feigned nostalgia, "How good it is to be here, how good. Viktor, come along, into the warmth. you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold."

As he led his students into the castle, excited murmuring erupted across the assembled group of Hogwarts students. Jack just picked up the words 'Krum' and from one sixth-year girl, 'autograph'. So he assumed that someone there was a celebrity. Quite probably this Viktor person, as Karkaroff had been giving him preferential treatment.

He allowed himself to be swept into the Great Hall, by the crowd, and soon found himself a seat at the Slytherin table. Tosh sat down behind him, just across the aisle from him. "That's a whole hour I could have been working, wasted." she sighed sadly.

Jack leaned across and asked her, "Do _you_ know who Krum is?"

"Sorry." she said, shrugging, "All I caught was something to do with Quidditch."

Jack turned back to his own table, and leaned across to speak to Draco, "Draco, you can call me a dumb Muggle for asking this, but who is Krum?"

"Dumb Muggle." a third-year, Nathaniel Travers, snickered.

Jack hit him upside the head, as if he was Owen. "I said _Draco_ was aloud to insult me. Not you, princess." he growled threateningly. Travers actually cringed, and didn't even snipe a retort to the 'princess' remark.

At this moment, several Durmstrang students claimed the empty seats around the Slytherin table. Krum sat right next to Draco. Draco seemed not to think it was a good idea to explain who Krum was while the man himself was sitting right there.

So Jack asked again. "Why are you famous?"

Krum looked at him, stunned by the question, "I play Qvidditch for Bulgaria." he answered curtly, before looking down at the table.

"Oh? That's all?" Jack asked, grinning, "I played Quidditch for Hufflepuff."

Krum looked up at him, confused, "Is this not the Slytherin House in your school?"

"Yes." Jack said cheerfully. "I did it for political reasons."

"He did it to piss off Montague." Adrian Yaxley declared clearly.

Jack shrugged, still grinning, "It worked."

x x x

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Harkness." Ron Weasley grumbled, glowering across the Hall at the Slytherin table. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time. Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry... I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."

"Oh, for the love of the Force, shut the fuck up, Weasley!" Owen yelled.

Hermione gasped in horror, "Language!"

"Star Wars? Really?" Gwen asked despairingly, not caring one iota for the swearing involved.

"Weasley..." Owen growled, wielding a utensil threateningly in Ron's face, across the table, "If you don't stop badmouthing Jack, I am going to shove this fork somewhere very uncomfortable on your anatomy... and I haven't quite decided exactly where yet."

"He'll do it..." Gwen said, almost mournfully, "I've seen him do it."

Which was only partially true. She had once seen him use a fork as a tool in an alien autopsy... although, in all fairness, Beth _had_ broken his favourite scalpel the previous week.

Ron was staring at Owen in equal measures of fear and incredulity. Several tense seconds passed, before Gwen grabbed Owen's arm and pulled him away from the table.

"I'll get you Weasley! And your little dog, too!" Owen yelled, waving his fork in the air dramatically, as Gwen dragged him down to near where Ianto was sitting.

"What was that about?" Ianto asked, across the aisle.

"Ron Weasley." Gwen said despairingly.

"Needs to be stabbed with a fork." Owen concluded cheerfully.

"Was that it?" Ianto asked blankly, "I'd have expected his punishment to warrant being fed to a Weevil, before you started quoting the Wizard of Oz."

Gwen giggled almost hysterically at this... but then Dumbledore distracted them from their debate, with one of his announcements.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and- most particularly- guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

"Thankfully brief." Ianto muttered gratefully, as food appeared at the tables.

Owen didn't comment, simple commenced shovelling of food into his mouth in as uncivilised a manner as he could manage. This was mostly to annoy Ianto, who he was watching out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough, tea-boy wrinkled his nose in distaste, and turned away.

"Is it just me, or do we have more variety tonight?" Ianto asked, surveying the Hufflepuff table.

Owen deigned to surface from his own food long enough to actually look, "Foreign guests, foreign food?" he suggested, "Thank god they're not from that place in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, s'all I'm sayin'."

"Or Korea." Ianto muttered darkly, "Jack has a problem with dogs."

Gwen choked on her pumpkin juice, "I wonder why?" she spluttered in disgust.

That successfully ended the conversation, and Owen- not for the first time- wondered where the connection between Jack, John Hart, and dogs, particularly poodles, came from. He had heard Gwen, Ianto _and _ Tosh joke about it on various occasions since the day they had met that freak.

Once they had finished eating, Dumbledore stood once more. The announcement had been short before the feast... therefore it would be long afterwards, Owen was certain.

"The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But firstly, let me introduce, for those of you who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation-"

A few people applauded, just to be polite, but not that many.

"-and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

This time most of the school applauded loudly and enthusiastically. Owen remembered the Weasley twins' rant about Bagman, on the train, and therefore yelled at the top of his lungs, "_BOOOOOO!_"

"Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on the panel which will judge the champions' efforts." Dumbledore smiled, as the silence became one of anticipation. "The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch."

Filch had been lurking in a nearby corner, and now brought forward an ancient-looking wooden chest encrusted in jewels.

Dumbledore took the chest from him and explained, "The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways. Their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction, and of course their ability to cope with danger."

He allowed that last part hanging for a moment of tense silence, before continuing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector. The Goblet of Fire."

"The what of fire?" Owen asked incredulously.

"Sounded like he said goblet." Gwen admitted, "Which makes no sense."

Dumbledore drew his wand and tapped the lid of the mysterious chest three times. The lid creaked open in a slow and ponderous way that seemed designed to increase the anticipation of the crowd watching with baited breath. Dumbledore reached into the chest and pulled out an entirely anti-climactic wooden cup.

Or at least, it would have been anti-climactic if Owen hadn't noticed a second later the faint blue flames flickering from within it as Dumbledore set it down on the staff table in front of him.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment, and drop it into the Goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Hallowe'en, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The Goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an age line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

Gwen, Owen and Ianto shared a dubious look at this. "Age line? Does that work on real age or apparent age?" Owen wondered aloud.

Neither of the other two answered him... all three wore equal expressions of apprehension at this possibility.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole-heartedly prepared to play, before you drop your name into the Goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Goodnight to you all."

x x x


	26. Because I Can

x x x

**Chapter 26: Because I Can**

x x x

It was close to breakfast time, and a fairly large group of students had gathered to watch the Goblet of Fire... to see who would try to enter. The Torchwood team were lurking near the foot of the staircase, close together, and at least one of them had been watching since five in the morning when Jack had wandered up here from the dungeons.

Durmstrang had just marched past, a few minutes ago. Every student representing their school had placed their names in the Goblet, to an awed and respectful silence from the Hogwarts students.

Now, the entrance hall was buzzing as Fred and George Weasley approached the Goblet with one of their friends Jack still hadn't learned the name of yet. "I'm not sure this is going to work, you know." Hermione Granger was telling them, "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

They paid her warnings absolutely no heed. "Ready?" one twin asked eagerly, and his brother nodded, "C'mon, then. I'll go first!"

He stepped up to the age line with determination, pausing right on the edge and steadying himself as he prepared to leap into whatever unknown spells were enforcing the age restriction. Then he stepped into the circle... and for all of one second, nothing happened. That was long enough for his twin to cheer victoriously and follow him across.

This was a mistake.

Both teenagers were sent flying across the entrance hall, landing on their backsides, over ten feet away from the line, to the sound of roaring laughter from the gathered students there. An instant later, with a snapping sound, both boys had magically grown white beards that might just reach their ankles if they were to stand again.

Even the twins joined in the laughter, pointing at each other's beards as they did so.

"I did warn you." the Headmaster's voice observed, sounding quite amused as the man himself emerged from the Great Hall. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Jack's eyes narrowed in a calculating way, as he watched this... and then a determined look spread across his face as he held his hand out to Ianto, fully expecting him to understand the request. And Ianto did understand, even if he really didn't like it.

"You're not..." Ianto whispered.

"I am." Jack said, and Ianto scowled, before reluctantly handing him a pen and scrap of parchment.

Jack wrote his name and the word Hogwarts on the parchment, folded it once, and handed the pen back to Ianto.

"You _are_ suicidal!" Owen said loudly. A few nearby students turned to look at them now.

Jack chuckled darkly, "You're only just reaching that conclusion now, Owen?" he asked in a dark undertone, before stepping forward with all his usual confidence.

He was pulling this stunt right under Albus Dumbledore's crooked nose, so he had to act fast if it was going to be worth the effort. He walked straight across the age line, neither waiting for it to affect him, nor giving anyone else time to try to stop him, as he stepped right up to the Goblet and threw his name in.

He then turned around to see the stunned looks on everyone's faces. Still standing within the circle of the age line, and not being ejected from the area, he allowed a smug grin to cross his face. "That's how it's done, boys!" he laughed at the Weasley twins.

The shocked expression on the Headmaster's face turned to one of indignant anger in an instant, "Explain yourself at once, Mr Harkness." he commanded.

"Your spell seems to think I'm old enough to compete, Professor." he said with an innocent shrug.

"Wonder what else anyone thinks he's old enough for..." Owen muttered, and his snide remark echoed in the stunned silence, causing him to cringe at the unintentional volume of his own voice. Ianto elbowed Owen sharply in the ribs to shut him up. A few Slytherins gave Owen dirty looks, but a couple of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs actually snickered at the insult.

Jack levelled a cold glare at Owen, but the Headmaster quickly spoke over Jack's imminent insult to Owen's mental age. "I hope you understand what you have just put your name in for, Mr Harkness." he said sternly.

"Perfectly." Jack said with a bright grin. He stepped forward casually, crossing back over the age line and showing no sign of any ill-effects whatsoever. "Extremely dangerous, possibly even life-threatening. It sounds like fun, to be honest." the Headmaster gave him a warning look, but he simply shrugged, "I can take it."

"I bet you can." Owen muttered, and once again his voice echoed in the deathly silence... but he grinned unrepentantly, this time.

Jack smirked, "Binding magical contract. I got that bit, too." he pointed out, "Can't take my name out of the running now, can you?"

The Headmaster considered this carefully, apparently trying to think of a way to do just that. Jack waited, trying not to look too smug... and finally the old man sighed with a nod of concession, "Unfortunately, Mr Harknesss, you are quite correct. But perhaps you will explain to me, precisely how you managed to bypass the age line?"

Jack tilted his head slightly as he stared at the old man's nose instead of meeting his eyes, "Perhaps some things are best left to the imagination, Professor."

The Headmaster frowned at this answer, correctly interpreting it as a challenge. You can't make me tell you... but I dare you to try and figure it out. "As you wish, Mr Harkness. Every effort will still be made to ensure the safety of whichever student is chosen for this school, and I am quite certain that the Goblet of Fire will select the most suitable candidate."

Jack stared after him, bemused, as the Headmaster swept off up the marble staircase, leaving everyone staring at Jack in amazement. Then as if by some silent cue, they all began speaking at once, clamouring for answers or simply to make their opinion heard.

"You talked back to Dumbledore and didn't get in trouble!" he heard an older Slytherin cry out in awe.

"How _did_ you get past the age line?" one of the Weasley twins demanded, completely ignoring the fluffy white beard now adorning his face, in favour of finding out the answer to this question.

Jack laughed, "Maybe I'm really some Muggle evil genius, who's found a way to make myself look like a kid, to go back in time and learn magic." he suggested, making it sound like a joke, and causing both twins to pull faces and deny this possibility in-between wild bursts of laughter.

"You? Evil genius?" Ianto asked sceptically, making a weak attempt to smile and laugh along with the other students, as he elbowed his way into the middle of the crowd gathered around Jack now.

"You know I am." Jack said distantly, watching as the twins stole the centre of attention from him, going on about Muggle scientists making gadgets to turn them into kids. In spite of their complete lack of knowledge of the Muggle world, each of their wild theories sounded like it might make an excellent premise for a sci-fi B-movie. "Come on." he grabbed Ianto's arm and led him away from the rest of the students.

x x x

The rest of the Torchwood team followed them into the Great Hall, as Jack quickly led Ianto over to the Gryffindor table. The few Gryffindor students in the general vicinity of where Jack chose to sit gave them both dark stares, then picked up their things and moved away, further down the table. Nobody likes a Slytherin, apparently.

"You want me to quote the Da Vinci Code?" Owen asked, grinning.

"Yes, because that's your only reference to ancient Earth symbology, Owen." Tosh sniped, clearly understanding the rude joke involving the Goblet of Fire, even if she showed no sign of finding it amusing.

Footsteps echoed from the doorway, now, ominous and loud. The entire team looked up to see Professor Snape storming across the hall toward them.

"Uh oh, you're in trouble now." Gwen said, wide-eyed.

Ianto turned his back on Snape, making a visible effort to fight back a smirk, "This ought to be good." he muttered.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you were doing, Harkness?" Snape yelled as soon as he was within earshot... thus drawing the attention of the entire hall.

"I don't think I've ever done anything in Merlin's name. Ianto...?"

"No, I'm sure I would have noticed." Ianto said, adamantly keeping his back turned to Snape to prevent the teacher seeing that he was now blushing and trying not to laugh at the same time. Owen fell over backwards and disappeared from sight spluttering with laughter.

"You know perfectly well what I am talking about, Mr Harkness!" Snape snarled.

Jack put on his serious face and looked up at the teacher, "Is there a problem with one of your students entering the tournament to bring glory to our house, Professor?"

"There is when the student in question is _twelve years old!_" Snape snapped.

Jack tried not to smirk, and only just succeeded, "The age line would seem to disagree with you, Professor."

"You had best hope that your name is not chosen, Harkness." Snape spat angrily, "You could easily get yourself killed."

"I'm aware of that, sir." Jack said blandly, still fighting the urge to grin. Owen's laughter echoed up from behind the table.

Snape almost literally growled, "_How_ are you not a Gryffindor?" he hissed, before turning and sweeping away, doing his best to impersonate an overgrown bat.

"That went well." Ianto observed dryly.

Owen peered up from behind the table, "Is he gone?"

"Gryffindor?" Jack chuckled, "I think that's the greatest insult that man knows."

"He didn't seem happy." Gwen said brightly, while Tosh giggled quietly next to her.

"He could have hexed you." Ianto pointed out to Jack.

"He could have tried."

x x x

The next few hours dragged by interminably slowly. Ianto had never felt so agitated in all his life. Mortal peril was one thing... he could handle that. Sitting around _waiting_ to see if someone he lo- someone he cared about was going to end up in mortal peril was eating him up inside.

He couldn't concentrate when he tried to distract himself with schoolwork. Or helping Tosh with one of her projects. She seemed unaffected, but he was so distracted that she eventually felt the need to tell him to try and get some rest instead of interfering.

He couldn't eat, at the feast. Not one bite. He just sat there, staring across the Hall at Jack.

Jack seemed to be perfectly fine with his virtually suicidal decision, chatting happily to the other Slytherins and lapping up the attention of being the only one to have crossed the age line while apparently underage. Even the Durmstrang students seemed to gravitate towards him in that way that Jack had of just attracting people to him and his cause with no apparent effort.

It made Ianto want to be sick.

He only made note of the extravagant decorations on an academic level... mostly to avoid putting his hand into the lit pumpkins on the table instead of the candy bowls that represented their dessert. He _did_ take some of the candy... hoping to celebrate later that someone who _wasn't_ Jack had gotten into the Tournament in Hogwarts' name, instead.

Finally, the food disappeared, and Dumbledore rose to speak, "Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute." he announced.

One whole minute? Ianto felt the strong desire to collapse forward and hit his head on the table, just so he didn't have to think about anything for the next fifty-eight seconds. He only _just_ resisted that urge.

"Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber, where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Forty-one, Ianto counted in his head. It wasn't quite as accurate as his stopwatch, but that was back in the Hub, over a decade in the future.

The lights dimmed, as Ianto stared at the table blankly. The only light in the room now seemed to be coming from the Goblet of Fire itself.

When he reached eight on his count-down, the firelight in the room flashed from blue to red, and he finally deigned to look up at the front of the Hall. The fire in the Goblet was giving off sparks... and then a great flash of flame, like a solar flare, lifted a piece of paper out and almost directly into Dumbledore's hand.

"The Champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."

That was predictable. And all of Durmstrang cheered as if they had known as much as well. None of them _wanted_ to compete, they were just there to make up numbers for their celebrity champion.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff cheered, as Krum passed the stage and disappeared through a door behind the staff table, "Knew you had it in you!"

Ianto counted another ten seconds before the second flare, and the second name came out of the Goblet.

"The Champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!" Dumbledore announced.

While all of Durmstrang had cheered on their champion, the Beauxbatons students who hadn't been chosen sulked impressively, as a blonde-haired and rather beautiful young woman stood elegantly, and followed Viktor Krum into the other room.

"She's hot." Ianto heard Owen remark, from the next table. Too bad he was out of range of casual violence.

Another twelve seconds ticked by with interminable slowness.

Then the third and final flare erupted from the Goblet, and Dumbledore caught it.

He read it over slowly twice. Ianto felt his heart sinking.

"The Hogwarts Champion... is Jack Harkness."

A loud noise from the staff table drew Ianto's attention. While he himself had refrained from violently introducing his head to the table, it seemed that Professor Snape lacked that particular willpower.

Jack did look surprised, but not upset by the news. The only cheers he got came from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, his fellow second-year Slytherins, Draco Malfoy and his gang... and loud wolf-whistles and cheers from Owen and Gwen.

Well, those two would be pariahs in the Gryffindor common room tonight.

Jack was laughing at Snape's reaction, as he stood, "Suck on that, Warrington!" he shouted down the Slytherin table, before heading for the same door that the other champions had left through.

Dumbledore watched him go with evident disapproval, before quite blatantly putting on a mask of good cheer and announcing to the rest of the Hall, "Excellent! Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

But a fourth flare from the Goblet distracted him.

He caught the piece of parchment and read it over with much more concern and irritation than he had for Jack's. After almost a minute, he cleared his throat distractedly, and read out, "Harry Potter."

x x x


	27. Overly Convoluted Evil Schemes Ahoy!

x x x

**Chapter 27: Overly Convoluted Evil Schemes Ahoy!**

x x x

Jack Harkness had never been shy. When he entered the champions' room, he simply walked in as if he belonged, and settled himself comfortably in one of three cushy arm-chairs there. Viktor Krum was leaning on the mantelpiece over a crackling fire, very statuesque. Fleur Delacour stood nearby, seeming to desperately want the warmth of the fireplace, without sacrificing an ounce of her perfect poise... or getting too close to her newfound rival, Viktor.

Viktor looked up at Jack for a moment, then chuckled and shook his head, "You made it? Most impressive."

"If a child is zee best zat 'Ogwarts 'as to offer, zen I am sure Beauxbatons shall be victorious."

Jack contemplated several rude retorts, but didn't bother voicing any of them. He knew the truth, and he would prove it soon enough. Viktor, for his part, just snorted with mild derision.

At this moment the door opened again, and Harry Potter nervously stepped into the room.

Fleur turned to face him, "What is it?" she asked, "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

Harry seemed too shocked to comment. Jack stood up slowly, "You okay?" he asked.

"I- er- I'm-" Harry stammered uninformatively.

A moment later, and the door opened once more, and in swept Ludo Bagman in a flurry of excitement. "Extraordinary!" he muttered, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him further into the room, "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen... lady. May I introduce- incredible though it may seem- the fourth Triwizard Champion?"

Jack stared at Harry, surprised. Ludo's words were directly contradicting themselves, as the term _Tri_wizard Tournament implied only _three_ contestants.

"Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman." Fleur said, laughing derisively.

"Joke?" Ludo asked blankly, "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake." Fleur insisted petulantly, "'E cannot compete. 'Ogwarts already 'as a champion."

"Well... it is amazing." Ludo prattled, "But as his name's come out of the Goblet... I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage. It's down in the rules, you're obliged. Harry will just have to do the best he-"

He was- thankfully- interrupted by the doors opening once more, admitting Dumbledore, Mr Crouch, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Snape and McGonagall... the last of whom closed the door quickly behind herself.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur protested immediately, "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"

Jack coughed pointedly. He appeared younger than Harry, but she was getting uppity about Harry's age? Fleur ignored him entirely.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" Maxime asked.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore." Karkaroff asked, in a too-silky tone that held underlying threat. "Two Hogwarts Champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions... or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" he added with a derisive laugh.

Jack suddenly wished for a psychotic blonde in a red dress.

"C'est impossible." Maxime insisted indignantly, "Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your age line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore." Karkaroff observed icily, his gaze drifting over Jack as well as Harry. Jack stared back mutinously, "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but their own, Karkaroff." Snape said, glowering at both of them, though much more at Harry. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here-"

"Thank you, Severus." Dumbledore interrupted calmly.

"And let's not forget which Slytherin played for Hufflepuff, last week." Jack added cheerfully. All eyes were on him, but he remained entirely unrepentant. Snape looked like he was developing a nervous twitch in his left eye, and Dumbledore looked supremely displeased... before turning to gaze intently at Harry.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" the old man asked gently.

"No." Harry answered immediately, and Jack was sure honestly. There were no tells of a lie in his body-language... and the old mind-reader could probably see that just as clearly as well.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" Dumbledore continued.

"No." Harry answered determinedly.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" Maxime cried out indignantly.

"He could not have crossed the age line." McGonagall said pointedly, "It was tested thoroughly after Mr Harkness' transgression, and appeared in full working order. I am sure we can all agree on that-"

"If 'Arkness could do eet, zen Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line." Maxime insisted.

Dumbledore turned to Jack now, eyes searching, but Jack refused to meet his gaze.

"There's only a few people in the world who could have done what I did to that age line, and Harry's not one of them." Jack said.

It was entirely true, but without the eye-contact the old man didn't seem to believe him. "It is possible, of course." he said too-politely, turning back to Maxime.

"I believe Mr Harkness is telling the truth." Snape said, with slight wonder in his tone. "He seems to have a way with it that few are ever able to master."

"And what, prey tell, is that?" Karkaroff demanded.

Snape looked at him directly, "To tell nothing but the truth, but yet mislead or not reveal all."

"Takes one to know one, Severus." Karkaroff grumbled, turning away almost sulkily, "Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman." he said, "you are our- er- objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Ludo seemed entirely flustered by the situation, not wanting to comment at all. Crouch, on the other hand, answered quite clearly, "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," Ludo agreed eagerly.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students." Karkaroff growled, and there was that threatening tone that reminded Jack so strongly of the Master trying to be polite. It wasn't anything about his looks that did it... just his attitude, really. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that." Ludo said, "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out. It won't reignite until the start of the next tournament-"

"-in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff snarled, enraged, "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff." Mad-Eye Moody's voice growled. When he had entered the room was unclear, even to Jack's usual deliberate awareness of his immediate surroundings, but he was standing just inside the door now. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

The Defence teacher limped further into the room on that wooden leg you really ought to hear coming a mile away. Jack didn't like the man's startling stealth, considering that fact.

"Convenient?" Karkaroff asked, no longer snarling or authoritative in the slightest, as if afraid of Moody, but trying not to show it, "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

"Don't you? It's very simple, Karkaroff." Moody said in a low almost threatening tone, "Someone put Potter's name in that Goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" Maxime complained.

Karkaroff nodded, "I quite agree, Madame Maxime. I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards-"

"If anyone's got reason to complain..." Moody observed darkly, "It's Potter. But, funny thing... I don't hear him saying a word."

"Why should 'e complain?" Fleur protested with the distinct air of a spoiled child being asked to share her toys, "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honour for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money. Zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it." Moody suggested.

Jack looked at Harry, who seemed to be in a state of absolute shock, and might not yet have gotten over the fact he was in the tournament, let alone taken in Moody's suggestion.

Ludo was the next to speak, anxious to break the tense silence, "Moody, old man... what a thing to say!"

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime." Karkaroff sniped. Jack glowered at him. That was as close as the wizarding world was _ever_ going to get to quoting '_The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy_', and it had to be a remark about '_The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe_'... from _him_. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that Goblet."

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" Maxime demanded.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" Moody declared, "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that Goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament. I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category."

"Wait." Jack said, stepping towards the assembled adults, holding up his hands to gain their full attention, "Wait a minute, you're saying that someone was clever and powerful enough to trick the Goblet of Fire into thinking that Harry Potter was the _only_ contender from a _fourth_ school?" Jack asked sceptically. Moody nodded curtly. "Y'know..." Jack continued in his most cheerfully irreverent tone, "If I was the evil dark wizard trying to get him into the tournament for whatever obscure reason, and I had that sort of magical power... I would trick it into thinking he was the _best_ contender for _Hogwarts_. After seeing me get past the age line, nobody would deny the assumption that he had done the same."

"What're you saying?" Harry asked, a bit defensively.

"I'm saying..." Jack said, turning to face Harry directly, but careful to observe everyone else in the room with his peripheral vision, "That whoever put your name into that Goblet was a complete and utter bloody moron!" He all-but shouted the last part, crowing quite gleefully at the insult he was giving.

Harry's lip twitched slightly, almost amused if not for the life-threatening situation he had been thrown into. The other two champions wore almost identically unimpressed and sceptical looks. Karkaroff snorted derisively. Maxime chuckled faintly as if agreeing but not wanting to show it. Crouch flinched, but that could have been the shouting... he seemed jumpy anyway. Ludo laughed outright, almost jovially... far too loudly. Moody remained perfectly still.

Suspect list: Crouch was number one, for flinching at the insult. Then Karkaroff, derisive and trying to laugh it off... Ludo, the same reason, but further down the list for lacking tact... and Moody. No reaction whatsoever? That was suspicious in and of itself, but it only afforded him the bottom rank on the list.

"Well, either that or they're one of those comic-book type villains who just love to leave clues so they can be recognised for their work... and then get caught." Jack added idly, shrugging.

"Y'know, I wish I _had_ just cheated." Harry muttered darkly, "The thought that someone wants to kill me is far worse."

"Look, however this happened, or why..." Jack said, looking up at Maxime and Karkaroff in particular, "Yes, there's two of us... but we're just kids, right? It's like Hogwarts got two half-champions. And even if you don't like it, we're all stuck with it now, anyway. So can I _please_ go back to my common room and get some sleep now?"

Maxime eyed Jack and Harry sceptically for a moment, before conceding, "'E does make a valid point."

Karkaroff sighed dramatically, "I suppose so." he grumbled, folding his arms and refusing to look at anyone.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" Ludo suggested eagerly, "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honours?"

Crouch seemed not to have been paying the slightest bit of attention, until now. He snapped out of whatever trance he had been in rather quickly, however, "Yes. Yes, the first task."

He stepped forward into the firelight. Jack wasn't sure if it was the way the light danced off his pale and sallow face, but he looked seriously ill. When he spoke it was very fast, kind of reminiscent of the Doctor, but somehow... dead. As if he was speaking from rote and not even thinking the words as they came out of his mouth.

"The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... very important. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests." He turned to look at Dumbledore, "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so." Dumbledore agreed, watching Crouch with concern, "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

Crouch shook his head, "No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry. It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment. I've left young Weatherby in charge. Very enthusiastic... a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told."

Jack chose to ignore them now... it was boring. Even the wizarding world had pointless chatter of social planning, and it honestly held no appeal to Jack even if he were to be included.

"You okay, Potter?" he asked, leading Harry away from the others.

"I really didn't put my name in." Harry said, still in shock.

"Yeah, I believe you." Jack said sincerely, meeting Harry's eyes as he did so. It was an odd sensation, as if Harry had an innate telepathic skill he just didn't know he had... the slightest touch of minds and the Gryffindor boy recoiled immediately. Entirely subconscious.

He did smile weakly, though, "That makes one."

"You hate the spotlight, huh?"

"You have no idea." Harry said morosely.

"Then I'll to my best to steal it." Jack promised, grinning.

Harry snorted with something vaguely akin to laughter... he was still too shocked to really appreciate humour right now. Before he could answer, however, Dumbledore was speaking to them. "Harry, Jack, I suggest you both go off to bed. I am sure Gryffindor and Slytherin are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Jack laughed derisively, "I'll walk into the common room and Montague will kill me." he announced cheerfully, before turning to leave anyway.

x x x

As Harry Potter slowly climbed the stairs up to Gryffindor tower, it only now occurred to him that the boy who had spoken to him so casually- in a genuinely friendly way- was, in fact, a Slytherin.

A Slytherin who had played on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team last week. Harry had seen the match, and Harkness had pointedly brought it up again mere minutes ago.

What had Malfoy once said? '_Imagine being in Hufflepuff! I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?_'

But Harkness had willingly defected, just to mess with someone on his own House's Quidditch team.

Or several someones... Harry wasn't entirely sure how accurate the rumour-mill was there. He sincerely doubted the parts about the second-year making lewd suggestion to Warrnington were at all true.

And wasn't there another rumour that Harkness had friends in Gryffindor? Couldn't be true, could it?

He made a mental note to try to find out more about his newfound rival in this tournament. Somehow, the other schools seemed less significant after spending five minutes in the same room as that other boy's charismatic and entirely unusual presence... and the theories of someone wanting to kill him were in fact nothing new.

Sure enough, Harry felt the same the next morning, and actively sought out the second-year Gryffindors, in the common room after breakfast.

"Hey, guys." he said as casually as he could manage. He really hated the hero-worship some of the younger students seemed to feel for him, and was very wary of them for this reason.

Most of them were downright shocked that he was even speaking to him. One black-haired girl in particular actually _swooned_. And the other girls seemed entirely too sappy in their eager replies of "Hi Harry!"

Only two of them ignored him.

"What do you lot know about Jack Harkness?" Harry asked.

"He's a git." the boy who had ignored him- Owen Harper, Harry remembered- answered bluntly.

"This from the one who threatened to maim a Weasley with a fork if he kept on insulting Jack?" the girl who had ignored him asked sceptically. She finally turned to look at Harry, now, "Why do you ask?"

"Well I'm gonna be competing against him." Harry said, shrugging.

"I think you've got a crush on him." Harper joked. Harry was horrified by the very suggestion. No, really, he was.

"Owen, if you don't shut it, _I'm_ going to try to learn that silencing spell as well." the girl sniped, before looking up at Harry, "Ignore him, it's what the sane people do." she informed him knowingly. Harry chuckled at the way she worded that. "Look, if you want to know about Jack, ask him. All I could really say is he's our friend, and he's a good guy in spite of what everyone around here seems to think of Slytherin."

One of the other second-year boys- Geoffrey Hooper, who was Gryffindor's Keeper this year, in the absence of Oliver Wood- snorted, "I suppose there's an exception to every rule." he grumbled, turning away from the conversation and back to his books.

"Thanks, um..."

"Gwen Cooper."

"Thanks, Gwen." Harry said sincerely, before leaving them to their own devices.

x x x


	28. They Want To Do What To Our Wands?

x x x

**Chapter 28: They Want To Do What To Our Wands?**

x x x

The morning after the names had been drawn out of the Goblet, significantly earlier than any Gryffindor would ever deign to wake on a weekend, Ianto made his way down to the Slytherin common room. He couldn't get in on his own, but Jack had shown him where it was, and so he waited outside.

After an hour and a half of waiting- and over a dozen insulting remarks from older students, about Squibs and Hufflepuff house in general- Jack finally appeared.

"It's not funny anymore." Ianto said angrily. His legs hurt from standing in one place in the cold dank dungeons for so long, but he really didn't care.

"What?" Jack asked blankly.

"This bloody tournament." Ianto hissed, falling into step with Jack, heading up towards the Great Hall, "I'm sure you got a great laugh out of getting past the Headmaster's tricks, but now you've actually been chosen to compete in a _dangerous_ and often _fatal_ contest that's _designed_ for people who've had six years worth of magical training!"

He wasn't actually raising his voice that much, but several other Slytherins had appeared around Jack and were listening intently as well. Most of them were first-years, a few third-years, and of course the usual two second-years- Malcolm and Zoe- as well. From what Ianto was able to gather, Malcolm and Zoe had grown up together, he got on well with Jack's sense of humour, and she tried to act as a voice of reason for both. When anyone from Torchwood was around, Jack barely seemed to notice those two, but they did appear to have formed a genuine friendship over their first year here.

"You're just jealous!" a third year boy- whom Ianto would have guessed by appearances was only first-year, if he hadn't seen him around last year as well- piped up obstinately.

Jack chuckled as if something was very funny, "You'll love this one, Ianto." he said, indicating the diminutive third-year, "He's like a PG version of Owen. Even Yaxley tried and failed to shut him up, last week. And his name is Derrin Harper."

"Not another one!" Ianto complained, horrified.

"Hey, I'm not related to that Mudblood!" Derrin yelped, horrified.

Jack stepped in front of the shorter boy in such a way as to trip him up, sending him sprawling to the floor... and then just walked on as if nothing had happened.

"You seem to be deliberately avoiding the point." Ianto growled, "That you could get yourself killed!"

"The Goblet picked me over a whole bunch of sixth and seventh years." Jack said with a dismissive shrug, "And if it doesn't know what it's doing... you should look at this."

He handed Ianto a roll of parchment, which Ianto immediately opened and read. It was a _very_ long list of safety precautions that were being employed for the tournament. The first few items on said list included; undetectable personal shielding charms (proof against major injury, designed to _allow_ minor injuries to pass through unfazed), impenetrable crowd barrier enchantments, anti-squashing spells, unbreakable chains, and flame suppressant spells.

Ianto stared in mild shock at this list, long enough to almost trip over the first step up to the main entrance hall. Then he rolled it back up and jogged up the steps to catch up with Jack and his little entourage, "Why would they need all of these? And where did you get this list?"

"I made a detour through Filch's office on the way back to the common room last night." Jack said cheerfully, "It was right there on his desk, along with the casket that Goblet had been in, and some other official rubbish. Obviously, that's not the original, that's the copy I made."

"Yes. I recognised the handwriting." Ianto muttered, "Look, there is no such thing as too many safety measures. No matter what they do, there'll always be something they overlooked!"

Jack stopped and turned to face him, "I can handle it, Ianto." he said sternly, showing quite clearly that he had actually thought this through very carefully. It wasn't a joke or a game to him anymore, either.

Ianto frowned, realising that he just couldn't win here, and not wanting to show emotional weakness in front of a pack of territorial Slytherins. He said simply, "I hope you're right."

x x x

Draco Malfoy, official leader of the school's very much unofficial '_We Hate Harry Potter_' club, was by default one of the most avid supporters of Jack Harkness as the Hogwarts Triwizard Champion.

"Hey, Harkness." Draco said, approaching him at the breakfast table. He was very pointedly showing off a badge on his robes, which bore bright red letters that said clearly; '**SUPPORT JACK HARKNESS - THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!**'

"Didn't I say I preferred blue, when Pansy tried to put bows in my hair?" Jack asked sceptically.

"I thought you were just being ironic, then." Draco said, a bit startled.

It had only been two evenings ago that Pansy Parkinson had consumed entirely too much sugar, and she and several other Slytherin girls had a 'girly party' in the common room. Most unfortunately, in Jack's opinion, witches seemed not to have heard of pillow-fighting-in-their-underwear, and thus it had been limited to doing each others' makeup, and talking and giggling very loudly about boys (most of whom _were_ listening and trying to pretend they weren't).

Jack wasn't quite sure when Pansy had started doing the boys' hair that fateful night, but he did know that Crabbe and Goyle had been her first victims. Jack himself had just learned the Incendio charm that very morning, and so when Pansy had turned her attention on him, he had taken great pleasure in setting the pink ribbons on fire while they had still been in the crazy girl's hands.

"Ravenclaw blue." Jack said bluntly, looking back at the Transfiguration book in his lap, suddenly very bored by it.

"You're kidding." Draco muttered.

"I am not." Jack said, shrugging and looking up.

Draco then pressed the badge, and it turned bright green, the words morphing to declare; '**POTTER STINKS!**'

"Burn it." Jack commanded simply, before returning his attention to the book as if it was still interesting in the least. He didn't want Draco to think this silly little stunt mattered to him at all, otherwise it would be much more troublesome to talk the boy out of it.

"What?" Draco asked, horrified, "This is the prototype! I'm not going to burn it!"

"I said burn it." Jack insisted, still not looking at him. It was a power play, to give a command the other so strongly disliked and not even deign to show interest.

"Look, Harkness, you're treading on some pretty thin ice, here." Draco growled, leaning closer so that nobody else could hear, "My personal pride and family influence are the only things standing between you and a serious beating by the rest of the Quidditch team... and their friends. I hope you know that?"

"I can take them." Jack said idly, turning a page. He hadn't even bothered to read the previous page, but his eyes tracked the lines convincingly enough, even without taking in a word of it. "Burn the badge."

"I will not!" Draco hissed angrily.

Jack froze for an instant, considered his options very carefully, then snapped the book shut and looked up at Draco, "I can win my own popularity contests without a smear-campaign, Draco. Make it blue, without the cheap shot at my opponent's personal hygiene, and I'll be happy."

Draco seethed in silence for a moment, evidently also carefully weighing the situation before answering, "Alright. But only because I'd like to see you try." he said coldly.

Jack smiled, "Thanks."

A victory _and_ a challenge. He considered this a very positive outcome, and returned his gaze to the book until Draco went away again.

x x x

The next day, Jack was eternally grateful to escape from History class, even if it was for some sort of publicity event for the tournament. He almost ran into Harry Potter and Colin Creevey, at the door to the room he had been told to find. Colin stammered and fled, leaving Jack facing Harry... with a wave of his hand Jack gestured for Harry to go first.

The Gryffindor's eyes narrowed, and Jack somehow guessed the suspicion, holding his hands out to the sides to show he wasn't holding a knife to stab the other boy in the back.

Harry seemed to accept this, and opened the door. The small classroom had been set up like a trophy presentation, very well decorated... and the photographer in the corner seemed to explain why. Victor Krum was brooding in another corner, and Fleur Delacour was leaning against a long table, looking all sulky and pouty, alone.

Ludo Bagman was sitting chatting to a hideously dressed woman in magenta robes with a notepad and quill. She had to be a journalist. Jack hated journalists, but that might be a symptom of having worked for two completely separate top-secret organisations in his long life.

As soon as Harry stepped into the room, however, Ludo was up like a shot and over to greet him, "Ah, here they are! The Hogwarts Champions!" he proclaimed, "In you come, boys, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment-"

"Wand weighing?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Does this by any chance involve a measuring tape?" Jack asked innocently. Ludo chuckled at the joke, whether he got the double-entendre in it or not. He did give off an air of being kind of naive, in Jack's opinion, and it was entirely possible that he simply remembered the enchanted measuring tape in Ollivander's wand shop.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead." he explained, leading them both over to the table, where the woman sat, "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo-shoot. This is Rita Skeeter. She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet."

"Maybe not that small, Ludo." Rita said, eyeing up both Jack and Harry. Jack returned this evaluating look, and considered that, in spite of the fact that her blonde hair may as well be set in cement, she might have been very pretty... thirty years and at least as many layers of makeup ago.

The scary part was the unnaturally long fingernails, painted red and looking just a little bit too much like bloodied Weevil claws.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" Rita said to Ludo, watching Harry specifically, now, "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of colour?"

Jack cleared his throat rather pointedly, to remind her which one of them was the youngest- looking, at least- here.

"Certainly!" Ludo cheered, not seeming to notice Jack's irritation, or Harry's evident fear. "That is, if you boys have no objections?"

"I don't do interviews." Jack said quickly.

Harry, on the other hand, wasn't fast enough, "Er-" Jack got the impression he had been about to say something along the lines of either 'no thanks' or much less likely but more amusing to contemplate; 'I'll tell you where to shove your quill'... but Rita interrupted him.

"Lovely." and she quickly grabbed him with one of those taloned hands and dragged him towards the nearest door, "We don't want to be in there with all that noise." she said, "Let's see..." The last thing Jack saw of Harry Potter was the boy's fearful face staring out longingly at the roomful of witnesses.

Jack flinched slightly as the door shut firmly behind the two of them, "Rather him than me..." he muttered.

"I quite agree." Fleur Delacour's beautifully lilting French accent replied, as she approached him. Jack turned to face her, smiling, as she continued to speak, "I 'ear zat 'Arry Pottair claims 'ee did not put 'is name into zee Goblet?"

Jack nodded, "Yeah, that's right." he said, glancing warily at the door Rita and Harry had disappeared behind. He felt sorry for the Gryffindor boy.

"But you did?" Fleur asked, curiously. Jack returned his full attention to her a bit more suddenly than he'd meant to, making his head spin very slightly. Instead of speaking, he nodded in answer, staring as she flipped her blonde hair lightly over her shoulder, "'Ow did you do eet?" she asked with an echoing voice somehow like a summer's breeze.

"Uh..." Jack shook his head, trying for a moment to remember what she had actually asked, before he realised that it was her almost shining hair that was drawing him in. He looked away and suddenly the world made some kind of sense again. She was just a teenage girl, not a goddess. "I found a way past the age line, that's all." he said uncomfortably.

"You must be very powerful to beat all zee older boys 'oo tried to enter zee tournament." Fleur continued, and her voice seemed to resonate with an oddly alluring tone.

"Girls, too." Jack added vaguely, wondering what he had been thinking about before Fleur had started talking... he really liked the way she talked.

Before she could continue to speak, however, the main door of the room swung open, and five people hurried into the room. Maxime, Karkaroff and Crouch all made their way to the large table in the middle of the room. Dumbledore and an old man Jack recognised as the wand-maker, Mr Ollivander, were right behind them at a slower pace.

"All here, then, are we?" Crouch asked curtly.

"I do believe Mr Potter is missing." Dumbledore said, scanning the room carefully.

"Ah, I believe Rita wanted a word with him, yes." Ludo said cheerfully, waving vaguely in the direction of the closet.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at this, looking for all the world like he was thinking almost exactly the same thing as Jack was about the indecent possibilities of such a confined space... then he swept over to said closet.

"Come now, people." Ludo said, ushering Jack and Fleur over to a row of four chairs by one wall. "Over here, that's it." Krum had already sat down at the far end, and Fleur sat next to him.

Jack felt slightly uncomfortable sitting next to Fleur... she still felt far too pretty, even when he wasn't looking at her. She couldn't be human. Even in Jack's time, human pheromones were _not_ that powerful. He couldn't attract another human of his own time with _only_ chemical allure... but Fleur seemed to be doing precisely that to him, whether she meant to or not.

"Dumbledore! How are you?" Skeeter's voice rang through the room, "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"

Dumbledore's answer was so perfectly deadpan that Ianto might have been jealous, "Enchantingly nasty. I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."

"I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street-"

"I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita, but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later." Dumbledore said brightly, "The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard."

Harry quickly bolted past them, clearly grateful to have escaped from the reporter's clutches, and sat down next to Jack, staring up at the table where the four tournament judges sat.

Dumbledore calmly joined them, and announced, "May I introduce Mr. Ollivander? He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Ollivander stepped forward into the middle of the room, looking every bit as distantly dreamy as Luna Lovegood, with those wide pale eyes. "Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" he called.

Fleur stood elegantly and all-but floated over to him, so light was her step. Jack blinked and tried not to think about it. She _had_ to be doing it on purpose.

She handed Ollivander her wand, and he examined it very carefully, turning it over and eyeing it intently. "Hmm." he pondered thoughtfully, after a moment, "Yes. Nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing- dear me!"

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela. One of my grandmuzzer's." Fleur answered promptly, and proudly.

"What's a Veela?" Jack asked in a low whisper, not really caring which of the other two champions heard or answered him.

"The most beautiful and dangerous women you can imagine." Viktor told him.

"They're magical creatures." Harry said vaguely, "I didn't know they could, er, breed with humans."

Viktor snorted, "Every man vants to." he muttered.

"Yeah, I can see why." Jack said, smirking.

Meanwhile, Ollivander was continuing to examine the wand, and speaking as he did so, ""Yes. Yes, I've never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands. However, to each his own, and if this suits you..." He waved the wand and muttered an incantation Jack didn't quite catch... but it produced a bunch of flowers, and this seemed to satisfy Ollivander, who nodded, "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order. Mr. Harkness, you next."

Fleur returned to her seat, flashing a brilliantly beautiful smile at Jack, who did his best to ignore it as he stood and approached the wand-maker.

He handed over his wand for inspection, noticing that Ollivander carefully observed the fact he drew if from his arm instead of a pocket.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Ollivander enthused brightly, "Yes, I remember it well. An especially fine oak wood, I do recall gathering it. The tree was practically swarming with Bowtruckles, always an excellent sign. Yes, indeed. Eleven inches, and a core of dragon heartstring." He waved the wand and conjured a plume of fire much reminiscent of a miniature nuclear explosion. "Yes, a fine wand indeed." He handed the wand back to Jack, and called out, "Mr Krum, if you please."

Jack returned to his seat, a little deflated by this entirely boring ceremony. So many obscene insinuations he _could_ have made, but not once was he given an opportunity.

So instead, he simply watched and listened to Ollivander's running commentary, "Hmm. This is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I... however." A moment of intent examination passed in silence, then, "Yes. Hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" Viktor nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches."

Jack bit his lip to avoid commenting aloud on that.

"Avis!" Ollivander said rather suddenly.

The small flock of birds that appeared out of thin air and fluttered out the window quite successfully distracted Jack from that train of thought. For like five seconds.

"Good." Ollivander said, nodding and returning the wand to Viktor. "Which leaves... Mr Potter."

Harry seemed extremely nervous as he handed over his wand, but Ollivander simply went about examining it just as he had the others, "Aaaah, yes. Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember." He spent a significantly longer time inspecting this one, before finally elaborating, "Eleven inches, quite supple. Holly, and a single tail-feather from a phoenix. A rather unusual combination, I must say. Yes, and such a fine phoenix... delightful fellow, indeed."

Was it Jack's imagination, or did Dumbledore smile at that remark?

Almost a minute passed, before Ollivander finally seemed satisfied with his inspection, and with a swish of the wand he conjured a fountain of red wine that disappeared again about half an inch from hitting the ground. Then he handed it back to Harry with a nod, "Excellent, Mr Potter, excellent."

Once Harry was seated, Dumbledore stood to speak, "Thank you all. You may go back to your lessons now. Or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end-"

But a short little man with a camera, who had to be there with Skeeter, leaped up and cleared his throat. Bagman reacted very eagerly to this, announcing, "Photos, Dumbledore, photos! All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

Rita hesitated, blatantly eyeing Harry, "Er- yes, let's do those first. And then perhaps some individual shots."

"I'm a vampire. I don't show up on camera." Jack said dismissively, already heading for the door.

He heard Harry's voice behind him stammering desperately, "I'm- er- allergic to flash photography! The smoke!" and he made a run for it, managing to make out the door right in front of Jack.

"I vill not be photographed vithout the other champions." Viktor said bluntly. Jack stopped and glanced back, to see him sneer at Skeeter, who looked positively horrified. Viktor followed Harry out the door without another word.

Fleur simply stuck her nose in the air and flounced towards the door, as well. Jack stepped outside, and tried to ignore the beautiful not-all-human girl as she followed him and slammed the door behind her.

x x x


	29. Here Be House Elves

x x x

**Chapter 29: Coalition for the Liberation of Indentured Toilers**

x x x

"Gwen..." Owen asked with deep scepticism, "Why are you wearing a badge that says spew?"

The entire team was sitting in the courtyard- because Owen wasn't allowed back in the Library- doing their homework for Potions. It was rather complicated, and only Owen was getting anywhere productively.

"Because Hermione Granger isn't that good with acronyms." Gwen muttered, peering down at the badge on her chest, "I mean, why not the House Elf Liberation Program? Or the Foundation for the Rights of Exploited Elves. That's kinda catchy, actually. But noooo. She had to call it the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."

"Wait a minute." Ianto choked with laughter, "This is about _House Elves?_"

"Yes." Gwen said, all wide-eyed innocence, "They're _enslaved_, and horribly exploited and abused. It's all here in this leaflet."

"She made leaflets..." Ianto said blankly, before accepting and reading the item in question with a look of growing incredulity.

"What are House Elves?" Tosh asked, setting her homework down and looking to Gwen attentively.

"They're an entire race of magical creatures that have been subjugated by wizards to do their housework and menial labour." Gwen explained rather dramatically.

Ianto snorted, still reading the leaflet.

Everyone looked at him sceptically. "Ianto, if what she's saying it true..." Jack started slowly.

"Technicalities and relative perspective and opinion." Ianto muttered, before looking up at them. "Yes, House Elves live under a magically enforced contract of servitude, created centuries ago because the elves _wanted_ to help wizards. Most of them would have a heart-attack in sheer horror if you suggested setting them free."

"How do you know about House Elves?" Gwen asked in her best wheedling tone.

"My grandfather had one." Ianto shrugged, "I made friends with him when I was four."

"Your family kept _slaves?_" Gwen asked in horror.

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Come with me." he said, standing up abruptly and walking out of the courtyard. The rest of the team exchanged dubious glanced, then quickly put their books away and followed him.

Without a word he led them on the most direct route down to the castle kitchens.

As soon as he opened the door, half a dozen small creatures wearing tea-towels- much reminiscent of Gollum, with bigger ears... and personal hygiene- came charging over to greet them eagerly.

Before any of the team could react, the tallest of the small group asked perkily, "Does Master Ianto wants more coffee this afternoon, sir?"

"_THIS IS HOW HE DOES IT?_" Owen demanded in shock.

"Oh, shut up, Owen." Ianto sniped dismissively, "Shecky, please tell my friend here what you would do if someone offered you freedom."

The little creature quivered in terror, "Please do not speak of it, Master Ianto. Shecky does not want to be freed!" it wailed.

"It's a hypothetical question." Ianto said quickly, in an attempt to calm the poor thing.

It trembled a little, but then seemed to calm down a bit, "Too many students is talking about it, these days, Master Ianto." it whimpered, "Shecky blames Dobby, yes Shecky does."

"What's Dobby?" Tosh asked, finally dragging her gaze away from the room at large, and towards the creature that appeared to be named Shecky.

"Dobby is a disgraced elf, Mistress." Shecky answered in an undertone of one speaking of great evils. "Dobby was set free by his master over a year ago, and Dobby takes-" Shecky shuddered in disgust, "-pride in it, Mistress. Dobby is asking _paid_ for his work." All six of the gathered elves shuddered at this. "And Dobby is telling Mistress Granger that it is better for elves being freed." Shecky continued in a horrified whisper. A couple of the elves covered their ears and cringed in blind terror, "Dobby is a bad elf."

"Well I'm convinced." Jack said casually. Gwen glowered bloody murder at him.

Owen shrugged dismissively, "Seems fine to me." Gwen turned her glare on Owen, now. Neither of them were fazed by her attempt to kill them with her gaze.

"Why is freedom a bad thing?" Tosh asked the elf, "I'm not arguing, I just want to understand."

Shecky blinked a few times, seemingly surprised that anyone even needed to ask... but then after a moment it answered, "All elves are enjoying doing work, Mistress. We are making food and cleaning clothes and keeping homes neat and cozy for our masters." The gathered elves nodded in eager agreement. "A good elf's reward is seeing their witches or wizards happy and content."

"But couldn't you still do that if you were free?" Tosh asked, slightly confused now, "Why do you need to be bound to serve, if you would do it of your own free will anyway?"

The elves all looked at each other, a little bit unsure. It was a different elf who answered. "It has always been this way, Mistress. We is liking it this way."

"Why did Dobby want to be free, then?" Gwen demanded.

Another elf zoomed across the floor towards them. The six they had been speaking to avoided it very carefully. It was wearing such a random and deranged assortment of clothes that they really couldn't be blamed. "Dobby's master was cruel, Mistress." it shouted, "Dobby's master beat him daily, even when Dobby did everything he was told!"

Shecky was the one glaring bloody murder, now. At this new elf, who really must be Dobby. But it didn't argue... and the other five were murmuring irritably now.

"So shouldn't you have the choice, if you're being mistreated, to leave and find a better family to look after?" Gwen asked, in her most persuasive tone, "Even if you don't want wages, like Hermione's been going on about?"

Ianto rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. Gwen was in crusade mode... so she was _very_ likely to get her way. And if not, there'd be no talking to her for at least a week.

"Or at the very least, have the wizarding world enact laws to prevent abuse?" Tosh suggested.

"That's a good one." Ianto agreed, jumping on the compromise before Gwen could argue with it, "That way you keep the contract you like living under, without the risk of having to endure what Dobby went through."

The elves' murmuring got more intense, and a few minutes passed before they turned back to the group of humans. Shecky was the one to speak, "We is liking this idea. If you is convincing Mistress Granger to stop her talk of freedom, we is agreeing with you, Masters."

Ianto looked to Gwen, who seemed satisfied with the compromise. Gwen nodded, all businesslike, "I'll talk to her."

x x x

Madam Pince was a stern woman, who liked order and discipline. She ran an orderly library, and students were expected to behave properly. A place for every book, and every book neatly in its place. Leather covers were polished, and every leaf aligned when she returned a book to the shelves. She didn't stand for any of this Muggle nonsense of folding a corner to keep your place, oh no. That was punished severely.

"Excuse me, Madam Pince?" a Hufflepuff second-year asked warily.

She turned to look down at him, pulling up her half-moon spectacles from their beaded chain so that she could see the boy clearly. "Yes?" she asked sceptically, drawing the word out rather pointedly.

"It's raining outside." the boy said. Stating the obvious was not a habit that she encouraged, and so she simply stared at him until he continued. "And all the classrooms are taken. So we need to study in here."

"It would seem so." she said curtly, wondering if there was a point to this. She had seen this same boy in here almost every day since his Sorting over a year ago. Usually accompanying an even more frequent Ravenclaw visitor, and occasionally joined by Gryffindors and a Slytherin.

She had noted them for that reason. Gryffindors cooperating and working quietly with a Slytherin. For the most part.

Then it occurred to her. One of those Gryffindors had been shouting and swearing in the library, at the beginning of the year. Naturally, the culprit had been immediately evicted from the premises and banned forthwith.

"My friends are supposed to work together on a Potions essay." the Hufflepuff said carefully, "It's due in tomorrow, and they can't go to either common room, because, well..."

Madam Pince sighed. "Your Gryffindor friend displayed quite unforgivable foul manners, young man."

"I know. It won't happen again." he promised, "Even he would rather behave than get in trouble with Snape."

Madam Pince scowled at this. It did indeed seem to be the general consensus in the school that Snape was the one not to cross. Reluctantly, she nodded, "Very well. But if he does repeat this offence, I shall be reporting both of you to the Headmaster."

x x x

When the Daily Prophet arrived at breakfast, a week before the First Task, at least half the school received a copy of it. Quiet fell over the great hall, as everyone read the article. Then Jack Harkness, who was reading over Malfoy's shoulder, fell over laughing like a madman.

Harry had to borrow Hermione's copy, to find out what this was about. And the Weasley twins both read over his shoulders.

'_HOGWARTS CHAMPION A VAMPIRE?_' Read the headline.

'_In a recent meeting with the four Champions of the_  
><em> Triwizard Tournament, this reporter uncovered a<em>  
><em> terrible secret regarding the youngest. Jack<em>  
><em> Harkness, a Slytherin second-year, witnessed by<em>  
><em> many students to have crossed an otherwise fully<em>  
><em> functional age line of seventeen, confessed to this<em>  
><em> reporter that he was, in fact, a vampire.<em>'

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Harry spluttered, laughing, "She cannot have taken that seriously!"

"What, he actually said it?" one of the Weasley twins asked.

"Well, yes, but it was just an excuse to avoid the photo-shoot." Harry explained, "I said I was allergic to the smoke from flash photography!"

"Oh, that's good." the first twin said with a nod.

"Now make sure she publishes _that_."

"Then all your enemies will try it first..."

"Thus giving you warning of any impending attack!"

"Nice, guys. Thanks." Harry said sardonically.

'_On a lesser note, this reporter also discovered_  
><em> that the famous Harry Potter is, shockingly,<em>  
><em> allergic to magical flash-photography smoke.<em>'

Now it was Harry's turn to almost fall over laughing. It took him several minutes to get back to reading the remainder of the article.

'_Most importantly, however, one must wonder at_  
><em> the mental capacity of a man who allows<em>  
><em> dangerous creatures such as werewolves and<em>  
><em> vampires to study at a school alongside more<em>  
><em> civilised witches and wizards.<em>  
><em>Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter.<em>'

"In case anyone's wondering!" Jack Harkness's voice echoed across the room. Someone had actually cast a Sonorus spell, and he was standing up on his chair so that everyone could see him. "It seems that Rita Skeeter really can't take a joke. I am not a vampire. I mean, seriously! Can you imagine a vampire playing Quidditch for Hufflepuff- no, Montague, I'm never going to let that one go- or participating in a tournament that I've been assured will take place entirely outdoors? Nope, because vampires _die_ in the sunlight! We apologise for the inconvenience, but you've still got to wonder how I got past that age line!"

And with that, he sat down, the spell broken and his laughter inaudible over the rising babble of the assembled students.

Harry stared, "Wow, when he said he'd steal the spotlight, he really wasn't kidding."

"He's good." one of the twins said, with genuine admiration.

"Not as good as you, though, Harry." the other pointed out.

"Yeah, he's only got a silver tongue, but _you've_ got a serpent-tongue."

Harry didn't take that joke especially well... even if they were right about Harkness.

x x x

Hermione Granger was sitting on one of the comfy chairs by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, writing up an essay for Charms, when suddenly a shadow was cast across her book.

She looked up to see several students gathered around her. Most all of them were Muggle-born, but the Weasley twins had made a point of joining in, as had Pavarti and Lavender. The ringleader, it seemed, was a second-year who in spite of her youth and stature really did look like she meant business, standing right in front of Hermione, arms folded, and a look of unflinching determination on her face.

"Um, is something wrong?" Hermione asked a little nervously.

"This is an intervention." the second-year girl said bluntly.

"We think you're going way too far with this spew thing." Pavarti said in an almost pleading tone, "If you actually go and talk to the House Elves, they'll tell you they don't want to be freed."

"Well that's clearly a case of their being uninformed and subjugated!" Hermione protested, horrified.

"You know, it's really racially intolerant to impose your belief system on those who don't think the same way." the ringleader pointed out darkly. "_I've_ actually spoken to the Elves, and they want to make a compromise with you."

Hermione gaped at this. "A- a compromise? I- I don't understand."

"They want you to stop going on about freedom. It's upsetting them." Romilda Vane said darkly.

"And they actually told you this?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"Yes, they did." the ringleader said with oddly authoritative pride. Hermione really needed to learn that girl's name. "They said they're happy for you to keep on campaigning for their rights not to be horribly abused by wizards, but if you try to set them free they won't take it well at all."

"Why?" Hermione asked, worriedly, "What do you mean, not take it well?"

"Well..." a Weasley twin said, leaning over Hermione's left shoulder.

"House Elves are powerful magical creatures." the other twin said over her right shoulder.

"Very powerful." the first agreed. Hermione could clearly detect their usual undertones of up-to-something-bad.

"And if someone were to upset them..." the twin on her right continued darkly.

"With no one to call them off..." the one on her left added. The surround-sound was very disconcerting.

"Well, we hear that Malfoy's Elf nearly killed his daddy when it got free." the twin on her right finished ominously.

Hermione paled slightly, remembering how poor little Winky had wept at being set free... and imagining a horde of equally distraught elves, all angry at her.

"Well..." she said as diplomatically as possible, in the face of this large group of mostly-older Gryffindors, "I suppose I could set my goals a little lower." she was speaking more out of fear than anything else, "Rights and protection for the Elves _is_ more important when they don't really want to leave anyway..."

"So can we rename it, then?" the ringleader asked hopefully, "Something that doesn't evoke the sentiment of vomit, maybe?"

Hermione pouted terribly, "But I liked S.P.E.W."

x x x

It was the day before the first Triwizard task, and the Torchwood team were in the library, working intently with their heads together, collaborating on their essays for Transfiguration class, when the sound of arguing distracted them.

"I don't care!" Harry Potter's voice snapped, earning a vicious 'shhh'ing noise from the librarian.

"But he's your opponent." Hermione Granger pointed out in a low whisper, "And you're not even supposed to know."

Owen was watching Harry and Hermione, even as the others pretended to keep working. Harry immediately lowered his voice, but now had the team's full attention, in spite of the fact that they kept their heads down. "But he's the only one who _doesn't_ know. It's not fair that Durmstrang and Beaubatons get an advantage like this, and he doesn't."

Jack smirked, looking up at Owen and Gwen, who were across the table from him. Gwen glanced briefly at the arguing Gryffindors, bobbing her head slightly to agree. They must be talking about Jack.

"I'm going to tell him." Harry insisted, stalking right over to their table.

Tosh and Ianto continued to conspire on Transfiguration theory, while Gwen smiled weakly at him before elbowing Owen and ensuring that he also returned to his work, rather than staring. Harry cleared his throat nervously, and Jack looked up.

"The first task." Harry said, seeming unsure, even though the rest of the team had decided not to blatantly stare, "It's dragons." Owen choked at this, and it now became perfectly clear to the older Gryffindors that none of them were working, even if they were pretending to.

"Dragons?" Jack asked sceptically, "Isn't that a bit extreme?"

Harry bit his lip, smiling faintly, "Just a bit, yeah." he muttered sarcastically, "But it's true, I've seen them. They've got four, one for each of us, and we've got to get past them."

Jack tilted his head to one side, curiously. Not afraid, but fascinated, "Really?" he asked, stunned... and also more than a little bit sceptical.

Harry nodded solemnly. Jack got the distinct impression the boy was incapable of lying convincingly if he'd tried. He certainly seemed to be serious about this.

"I thought we weren't supposed to know what we were facing in the first task?" Jack asked, curiously.

"Well..." Hermione admitted, "Cheating is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament. It says so in-"

"'_Hogwarts: A History_'." Ianto said at exactly the same time as her, grinning slightly at her surprise. Hermione blushed and half-glared at Ianto for stealing _her_ line.

"I wasn't saying the rules were important, here... just plain dumb." Jack said bluntly, "Send an unprepared teenager into a pen with a dragon? Clever. Try it four times... and they actually expect us all to survive?"

"My thoughts exactly." Harry muttered darkly, "But I'm not the only one who knows. Fleur and Krum will know by now, as well. Maxime and Karkaroff both saw the dragons, too."

Jack smiled, "Thanks for telling me." but the smile failed half a second later, and he looked at Ianto, mouthing the word '_dragons!_' Ianto shrugged vaguely, and turned to whisper to Tosh. Jack looked back to Harry, "Good luck."

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the spot, clearly also trying to imagine how he could possibly face down a dragon, "Yeah... you too. Think we're gonna need it."

After a brief hesitation, Harry turned away, followed by Hermione, who shot odd looks over her shoulder at the five of them. As soon as they were gone, Jack turned his full attention back to the team.

"Screw Transfiguration." Owen declared, grinning in anticipation, "Dragons suddenly sound much more interesting."

Tosh suddenly set a pile of books down on the desk- Jack hadn't even noticed her leaving, but now he read the book titles, "'_From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide_'... '_Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_'...?" he quoted, before laughing and reading the third one, "'_Men Who Love Dragons Too Much_'?"

Owen snorted, "You should definitely start there, mate!"

Jack raised a questioning eyebrow at Tosh, who shrugged and admitted, "I couldn't find anything about dragonslaying."

"But you know me so well... and Owen has a point." Jack said brightly, picking up the third book and beginning to flick through it for ideas.

"You're kidding me." Owen said, mouth agape, "I was _joking!_" Jack just gave him a dark look, then returned his attention to the book.

Gwen tentatively picked up '_Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_', and began leafing through it with a scowl firmly etched across her face, while Ianto produced a copy of '_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_' from his schoolbag and started looking through that.

"Hey, this one's almost cute." Jack said, indicating a sketch drawn in copper-coloured ink, of a dragon snarling at a human standing next to it for scale. The dragon was just about twice as tall as the man.

"Peruvian Vipertooth." Ianto read over his shoulder, before quickly looking for it in his own book and announcing with false cheer, "Favourite food, human flesh. Good choice, Jack." Ianto sniped darkly.

Jack just shrugged, "I've dated worse."

x x x


	30. Okay, I Can Work With That

x x x

**Chapter 30: Hello, I'm Captain Jack Harkness... And You're... A Dragon... Okay, I Can Work With That**

x x x

Jack had spent all of the previous night trying to figure out a way to get past a dragon, and so far only Owen's rude remark had a hope of working. The last time Jack had been this age, he had been almost entirely ignorant of just how effective fifty-first century human pheromones could be. He had never even tried to consciously attract anyone until he was sixteen.

Last night, he had tried it on Ianto... and it had worked just as well as when he was an adult. Although he had no intention of doing anything more than kissing his youthened lover until they were both physically ready for it.

Between this, and researching everything the team could find in the library about dragons- low-intelligence flying lizards, if he could make the Pterodactyl behave with pheromones how should a dragon be any different?- he hadn't finished his potions homework for this morning's lesson.

Snape pretended not to notice, much to the annoyance of most of the Gryffindors.

After class, Professor Snape apprehended Jack, before he could leave for lunch, "Harkness. Follow me." he commanded.

Jack glanced at his fellow Slytherins, Malcolm and Zoe, who both shrugged and headed on up to the great hall.

Gwen gently patted Jack's shoulder, reassuringly, "Good luck." she offered.

"Shoulda done your homework, mate." Owen said too cheerfully, before he and Gwen both fled the classroom.

Jack rolled his eyes at their vague dismissal, but then followed Snape as he was led up through a shortcut- which he made careful note of- to a small classroom in the Hufflepuff corridor. There were sandwiches sitting on the table, and Snape gestured in that general direction, which Jack interpreted as an invitation to help himself. He sat down and picked out a sandwich that looked like chicken.

As he ate, Snape spoke. "Do you have any idea how dangerous today's task will be?" he asked, and Jack nodded. "And do you have any idea how you intend to complete this task?"

Jack swallowed the mouthful of food, and looked up at his teacher blankly, "Same way I usually get what I want... natural charm."

Snape stared for all of two seconds, then swept closer, so he was leaning over Jack, hands on the arms of the chair, hissing in his face, "You are being set to face a _dragon_, Harkness. They are not well-known to be susceptible to a silver tongue and false bravado."

At the way he worded that, a thought occurred to Jack, and he asked, "How closely are they related to snakes, exactly?" Snape gave him an odd look for the question, and Jack shrugged, "Just wondering if Harry Potter has an unfair advantage..."

Snape blinked, then seemed to get what he meant, and shook his head, "You are not taking this seriously!" he snarled, backing up and starting to pace irritably. Jack continued eating his lunch, watching the irate professor with idly curiosity. "There are no second-year spells that could possibly affect a dragon, Harkness. You will be walking out there with absolutely no weapons or defences!"

"Then why are they letting me do it?" Jack asked in a well-feigned tone of disinterest, before pulling a face and peering at the contents of the sandwich he had just picked up and taken a bite of. There was something green and funny-smelling in it. He stared at it for a moment, before asking, "You didn't put anything unusual in these, did you?"

He really wouldn't put it past the potions master to do such a thing, either to render him unconscious and therefore protect him from having to compete... or to somehow try to give him an advantage in the fight.

Snape gave him an odd look, before realising what Jack meant and shaking his head, "If you have a problem with the food, take it up with the House Elves." he dismissed vaguely. Jack shrugged disinterestedly.

"Why keep me away from the rest of the school, sir?" he asked curiously.

"I didn't think it would be in the best interests of your health. If she has an ounce of sense, Minerva will keep Potter away from my students as surely as I am separating you from hers."

"Ah." Jack said distractedly, trying to find another sandwich without the odd green stuff in it, "House rivalry. Makes sense."

"Now tell me, Harkness." Snape snapped, finally ceasing his pacing and turning once more to face him, "How exactly do you plan to battle a dragon?"

Jack grinned, "I'm a lover, not a fighter." Snape opened his mouth to point out that this wasn't in the slightest bit amusing, but Jack decided he'd had enough of the argument, and spoke across him. "I am _not_ joking." he said seriously, standing up and consciously releasing a very small dose of his natural pheromones.

Normally, he would never do such a thing in the presence of people he disliked... and he did not like Professor Snape. It wasn't his personality that bothered Jack, but rather the much more shallow issue of the man's complete disregard for personal hygiene. But Jack really was sick of being talked down to like this, and wanted to shut him up.

And it worked. Snape stopped dead, staring in shock. Jack grinned smugly, watching as the professor took a step back, slightly stunned... but then he drew his wand and Jack had no time to react before Snape wordlessly cast a spell right at him.

Nothing happened.

"Impossible." Snape whispered.

Jack grinned even more at this, "What's impossible, sir?" he asked innocently.

"You must have used some form of enchantment... or possibly even essence of Amortentia. That spell should have revealed any such magic." Snape said, circling him in the disturbing way that mad-scientists eye up something they want to dissect. Jack knew the look... the people at Torchwood used to do it to him all the time.

"Must I?" Jack asked in all false innocence, smirking.

Snape stopped in front of him, facing him once more, still with that mad-scientist look about him. While Jack hadn't actually admitted to anything, Snape was smart enough to understand that this meant his specific guesses were incorrect. And once you eliminate every other alternative... "What are you?" he asked in awe.

Jack stared blankly at this question, "I'm human." he said, in a 'well duh' tone, and while that was entirely true, it was nowhere near a complete answer. So many other things he could have added to it. From the future. Immortal. Nowhere near as young as he looked. Instead, he simply asked, "What else would I be?"

Snape shook his head, "Fine, then. Keep your secrets, gods know I have enough of my own to be getting on with." He checked his watch, and then looked at Jack with a cold smile, "It's time... and I sincerely hope you know what you're doing."

x x x

Jack followed Professor Snape out into the grounds, and around the side of the forest. He pretended not to be impressed at all when he saw the stadium that had been set up there for the Task.

Snape wordlessly gestured for him to enter a small tent just outside the stadium, and Jack did so, feigning calm in spite of his misgivings about what he was expected to attempt to do, here. It really was ridiculous. The books he had read last night made it quite clear that a fully-trained adult wizard would have trouble dealing with a dragon, one-on-one... and here he was, seemingly no older than twelve, and they wanted him to go into that arena with one of the fire-breathing monsters.

The other three champions were already here. Each and every one of them looked downright terrified... in their own ways.

"Well, it's about time!" Ludo Bagman cried, ushering Jack further into the tent, "Yes, well. Now we're all here, time to fill you in! When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag, from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different- er- varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too. Ah, yes, your task is to collect the golden egg!"

Steal an egg from a dragon? Not asking much at all, was he? And why the hell was he dressed like the unholy lovechild of a Hufflepuff and a bumblebee?

The tense silence of those waiting in the tent seemed to drag on into an eternity or three, as crowds of students passed the tent with a sound not too dissimilar to that of stampeding wildebeests.

Finally, Ludo deigned to offer the bag of miniatures to Fleur, "Ladies first." he said so cheerfully that Jack really wanted to maim him for not taking this seriously.

Fleur very tentatively reached in and pulled out a living moving model of a striking green dragon, with the number two on a sign around its neck.

Viktor was next, and he pulled out a brilliant red dragon bearing the number three. As Viktor held it up on his palm, it turned around three times and went to sleep like a dog.

Ludo offered the bag to Jack, next. When he put his hand in, he felt two squirming figures, alive but somehow plasticy to the touch. One of them swiped at his fingers, and so he deliberately picked up the other one.

It was blue. Powder blue, with a kind of silvery shimmer to it, and in Jack's opinion it was much prettier than the other two. Unfortunately, it had the number one tied around its neck. That wasn't good. He stepped back, allowing Harry to take the last dragon model, while he lightly petted the plastic figuring in his own hand. It turned its head as if begging him to scratch its chin. He did so and it all-but purred... in a hissy-lizardy kind of way. He decided that whatever happened with the real thing, he liked the miniature and would definitely be keeping it.

The mini-dragon that Harry pulled out was black and very spiny. It looked downright vicious, and the slightly stingy scratch on Jack's hand seemed to agree. If that was the model, he was _very_ glad he wouldn't be the one to face that one's life-sized counterpart.

"Well, there you are!" Ludo announced happily, "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr Harkness, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now, Harry... could I have a quick word? Outside?"

Jack watched with a frown as Ludo led Harry out for whatever last-minute pep-talk... or other reasons he may have for wanting to be alone with a teenage boy. "Why's he getting he preferential treatment?" Jack muttered sulkily, sitting down sharply on the bench and watching his mini-dragon, which had proceeded to try to tear off its number by gnawing at the string.

Nobody answered him, far too busy contemplating their own ominous fates.

After what seemed like no time at all, a whistle blew. Jack looked up, startled by the sudden sound. He set his mini-dragon on the bench with a stern order to it, "Don't go anywhere." It settled down to sleep immediately. "Now, if only the real thing was as well-behaved..." he muttered, eliciting a weak, strangled sound from Fleur that could have either been a laugh or a sob.

x x x

Jack entered the arena, carefully picking his way past a few rocks, to see the silvery-blue dragon waiting for him. It was about the size of a tyrannosaurus, but leaner, with wings that stretched out to twice its height. He grinned at the sight of such a beautiful creature, warily approaching her. She crouched low over her clutch of eggs, defensively, and bared wicked-sharp teeth when he got close enough for her to see him as a threat.

He took careful note of the chains around her neck, and precisely where they held her... just in case he had to run. The shortest chain seemed to be to her left, so he kept to his own left as he slowly circled around the arena. He had yet to so much as draw his wand, yet.

Why bother? Snape was right, no second-year spells would be able to do anything against a dragon.

Once he judged that he was only just far enough away that the chain would stop her a few feet in front of him, he concentrated on allowing his natural pheromones to call to her. It took a great deal of effort to consciously project it like this... and it never did more than make people curious. It certainly wasn't any kind of mind-control, or as Snape had implied, love potion.

He watched carefully as she sniffed the air and slowly rose from her defensive position over her nest. He held his hands out, palms up to show he wasn't a threat, and she cautiously approached.

"That's it, come over here." he encouraged, and he was pleased to see that the chain held, exactly where he thought it would, even as she strained against it, quite intently sniffing in his direction. He smiled, and slowly stepped closer, until he could reach out and touch the shiny silvery scales on her nose.

A slight tendril of smoke rose from one of her nostrils, and he moved as quickly as he dared around to stand beside her face, right in her line of sight but not in the line of fire. If she took the notion to attack, there was really very little chance of him surviving it... and he'd never been eaten by a monster before.

He tried not to think about how he could possibly come back from that.

He also tried to ignore the fact that the entire school seemed to be holding its collective breath, watching him. Even the commentator- Ludo, of course- who had been prattling on eagerly about the breed of dragon and the Daily Prophet rumours about Jack, was now silent, watching and waiting to see what would happen.

"You're gorgeous, aren't you, girl?" he asked gently, careful to keep up the pheromones that were keeping her interested.

She made a kind of half-growling sound that his past experience with sentient reptilians interpreted as affectionate.

"Yeah, I bet the other girls they brought here are all jealous of you." he continued, reaching up to lightly run one hand over the crest of short horns above her eye.

Her wings furled up a little tighter, and she nudged him lightly with the side of her nose. He backed up a step, and she followed, turning slowly and continuing to nudge him... back towards the nest. He barely held back the instinct to laugh... and wasn't sure if it was from relief that she didn't want to kill him, or fear as he tried to think of how to politely turn down a _dragon_.

She stopped nudging him, mere feet from the nest, where he could clearly see the golden egg, absolutely tiny in comparison to the real eggs surrounding it. Now she was sniffing him, and he tentatively patted her nose, "I like you too, girl." he said with a nervous smile.

She made that same affectionate growling sound, and rubbed the side of her head against him, not unlike the way a cat might try to rub its face into your hand. Except the dragon was much larger than even the greatest of felines, and her gentle nudge caused Jack to stumble.

He caught his balance quickly, and was slightly surprised when she laid down, facing him with an intent stare. Oddly akin to the way a school-girl might watch a teacher she had a crush on (not naming anyone in his own Potions class, or anything... not like Elaine Gibbon would ever look at Snape that way, no, of course not).

Jack glanced briefly at the nest, seeing the golden egg again, and saying vaguely, "Gold really isn't your colour, y'know..." he slowly approached it, and she did growl at him warningly. He held his hands up to show no hostility, then touched only the golden egg.

She watched him beadily, but didn't attack, as he drew the fake egg slowly from the nest, and then sat down facing her, setting the fake egg in front of him, "This isn't one of yours, is it." he said it as a statement, and very softly too. He kind of hoped the audience didn't hear.

She continued to watch, a slight puff of smoke rising from her nose, and he shifted a little closer to her, now. She reached one clawed paw out in front of her- almost like the same cat she had impersonated earlier, now reaching for a toy- and set a claw on top of the golden egg, making a hollow tapping sound as she did so.

"Can I have it?" Jack asked, lightly touching her paw, just above the claw that rested on the egg.

Almost as if directly answering his question- though in reality, he could tell she wasn't sentient enough to understand his words, and was reacting to his gentle touch- she retracted the claw.

He smiled, and moved closer still to her, gently touching the side of her nose... it was the furthest he dared to reach from directly in front of her. "Thanks."

He very gradually began to reign in the pheromones that had held her rapt attention, and slowly stood and backed away as he did so. This way, she still shouldn't harm him, but was also unlikely to follow him and try to bring him back.

It worked perfectly... for the first few steps. Then she seemed to realise what he had done. Yeah, women don't like it when you charm them like that, then turn around and steal their jewellery... he should have remembered that from personal experience. The dragon stood up and let out a bellowing roar. Jack turned and ran, as fast as he could.

The crowd shrieked as one, and Jack heard the chain jerk, pulled to its full length far too close behind him. Another roar, and he was thrown forward, violently... landing face-first in the dust.

When he looked up, he discovered that he had landed right in front of an incredibly handsome wizard. The man in question wore leathers, was partially covered in soot, and had striking red hair just like the Weasleys.

And he was pointing his wand past Jack.

Jack slowly looked around, to see that the spell the man was casting was holding back the angry dragon's best shot with her fiery breath.

Jack sat up slowly, "I just failed, didn't I?" he muttered.

"Yes. Getting in the way of a fireball is usually a good way to wind up dead." the red-head said, offering him a hand to help him up, which Jack accepted automatically. "But we all _really_ want to know how you got her to play nice for five whole minutes."

x x x

Jack was led up to an observation deck, where he would be able to watch the other champions. The red-haired wizard joined him. "Don't they need you down in the arena?" Jack asked, glancing up at him.

"Nah, there's enough of us here to handle all four at once." he answered, holding out his hand. He had brought Jack's miniature dragon up from the tent, and was now returning it to him.

Jack took it and set it up on his shoulder, where it settled down like a Sphinx, staring attentively out at the real- and very much unconscious- version of the green dragon as it was brought out into the arena. The seven wizards who were levitating it were dressed in leathers, very much like the one sitting beside him now.

They then levitated out a different nest of eggs. These ones were brown, speckled with brilliant green, while the first nest had held smaller, mottled white-and-silver eggs.

The red-haired wizard was also looking out at the arena, and smiled faintly, "Welsh Green." he explained, "We were taking best that you'd have got her, and Fleur Delacour would have got the Swedish Short-Snout. You know, school and house colours." Would have been ironic, certainly.

"It's from Wales, then, I take it?" Jack asked blankly. He would need to look into that in more detail. It was something Torchwood might need to know.

"Yeah. Bet you can't guess its favourite food."

Jack snorted, not deigning to answer that. It was perfectly clear, from the joking tone, that the only possible answer could be sheep.

"I'm Charlie Weasley, by the way."

Jack smiled weakly, "Jack Harkness."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that part out for myself, thanks." Charlie said with a laugh.

Jack watched as Fleur cast some kind of sleeping spell on the Welsh Green dragon, and got her golden egg rather easily... only slightly singed for her trouble. None of the dragon-keepers seemed to deign it necessary to defend her, as Charlie had for Jack.

She was led up to the observation deck, and seated next to Charlie.

Within seconds, Jack could feel that odd allure that she gave off... but it wasn't as strong as before, as if she was aiming it more deliberately. He looked over and then rolled his eyes dramatically when he saw the look on Charlie's face.

Jack glowered across at her, and directed some of his own natural allure at Charlie.

Poor guy really didn't know what hit him... but Fleur certainly did. She stared at him blatantly, and dropped whatever it was she had been trying to do to the handsome dragon-keeper. While Charlie was still in a bit of a daze, Jack hissed across him, "That's really not fair on him, you know. And it makes my skin itch when you do it around me."

Fleur scowled, but didn't retort. Nor did she try anything else. Jack backed down as well, and the hapless Weasley shook his head, snapping out of it, entirely unaware that anything had happened to him at all.

When Viktor's turn came, he cursed the dragon directly... which went very well for him, but not so well for the poor dragon's eggs, several of which she crushed in her blinded rage.

Harry's tactic was much less direct. He used a summoning charm to acquire his broomstick, and flew around the vicious black dragon's head until she got really annoyed and took off, giving him a clear run to dive and snatch up the golden egg.

It seemed pretty obvious who had won, here.

"Look at that!" Ludo yelled over the magical equivalent of a megaphone, "Will you look at that! Our last champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr Potter!"

Harry had acquired a nasty bloody cut on his shoulder, and was taken straight to a medical tent. The crowd was just beginning to get really restless when he came out again, and his score was given. Predictably better than any of the rest of them. Jack had only scored twenty for getting as far as he had, but that was out of fifty, and was the lowest of the four, because he had to be rescued at the end.

Still, he had the golden egg in his hands, and had yet to let go of it. Nor did he plan on giving it up, even if he was ordered to do so.

Although, Karkaroff was blatantly biased, giving Harry a low score and Viktor a high score, bringing Harry and Viktor to a tie for first place.

Charlie stood up quickly, "You three should head back down to the tent. Bagman wants to see you there." and with that, he ran down to join his brothers, gathered around Harry. Teachers, other students, everyone was swarming around Harry. Jack looked up at the stands, but couldn't see his team anywhere.

He followed Fleur and Viktor back down to the tent.

"Hey, that was some fancy flying." Jack said, as Harry joined them. He grinned brightly, "Me, I decided to test the safety measures before the rest of you went out there and put yourselves in harm's way."

"Yes. That vas on purpose." Viktor muttered sarcastically, smiling faintly as well. They were all so relieved to have made it, one way or another, that none of them could feel down right now.

"Well done, all of you!" Ludo cried, trotting into the tent, "Well... yes." he muttered, glancing briefly at Jack... who very much wanted to make a rude gesture of some kind, but decided against it. "Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth. But we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open... see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg, because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!"

Jack turned to follow the others out of the tent, but Ludo quickly spoke, stopping him in his tracks.

"Ah, Mr Harkness. According to the rules, we really shouldn't allow you to keep that egg. However, given the circumstances... can't really continue without it, can you? I think your score today was penalty enough. Yes. Go on, then!"

Jack frowned at this, deciding quite definitively that he would find out what was in this egg as soon as possible.

x x x


	31. Inter House Relations

x x x

**Chapter 31: Inter-House Relations**

x x x

"_SHUT IT UP OR I'LL BREAK IT! THEN I'll BREAK YOU!_" Adrian Yaxley yelled over the deafening shrieking sound that was being emitted by the open golden egg that sat in the middle of the Slytherin common room.

Jack immediately closed it, and the horrendous noise ceased.

"Do that again, Jack, and I'll murder you with your own socks!" Draco announced, "I know how to make it look like an accident!"

"Well so much for the clue being easy." Malcolm muttered.

Jack scowled at it intently, "Well it has to mean something." he said, exasperated, before standing up and running his fingers through his hair.

"Come on, kid, you stole this from one of us!" Montague growled, "If you don't get first place in the Second Task we're gonna string you up from the goalposts in your underwear!"

"Maybe that _is_ the task." Jack joked irreverently. Nobody laughed. Jack sighed, "Look, I will figure this out in time. I promise."

"Yeah, well you'd better." Yaxley snarled darkly.

x x x

Luna Lovegood had been busy this year.

Not many people usually listened to her _directly_, but she did know how to make them notice things when she wanted to. More than half of her house were now wearing the pretty blue '**SUPPORT JACK HARKNESS**' badges. She had given them away free with the Quibbler.

There was also a very enchanting advertisement for Game Boys, in the back of the magazine.

Toshiko's Muggle-tech club had never been so popular.

It beat out Muggle Studies as _the_ way to learn about the non-magical world, and Toshie had taken to giving lectures on a different topic each weekend. First had been the Internet. Luna had found that thoroughly fascinating. The following week had explained how television worked.

Random photos that her friend Colin had taken of the Slytherin-Hufflepuff Quidditch match lay scattered around the common room. Reminders that house colours were not a true barrier. Many people had stopped glaring when Jack showed up for the tech-club, now.

A group of sixth-year girls even wanted him to sign their schoolbags in lipstick... which Jack, being Jack, naturally obliged.

It was working rather well, Luna thought.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was even doing it, only that it seemed unfair that everyone disliked him. Hufflepuff had started to tolerate him, but Gryffindor- with two named exceptions- were adamant.

Ravenclaw was on the fence at the moment... and Luna intended to burn it down.

The Lady assured her that the Nargles would be most displeased- they did dislike fire, after all- and this made Luna smile.

x x x

It had been another bad day at Torchwood. Sometimes Jack wondered why he even showed up, when he knew perfectly well that his boss would soullessly send him into whatever fatal situation they came across in the fond hope of either killing him off for good, or just not getting her pretty manicured hands dirty.

However, when he got home he saw something very unusual waiting for him. Perched on his windowsill were four owls, and tied to their legs was a package only slightly bigger than any given one of them.

He opened the window and allowed them to fly inside. "Unexpected gifts. Does he not still have a wrist strap? Couldn't call up and tell me to leave my window open, or something?" he asked with a bemused grin as the owls landed on his kitchen table, ruffling feathers irritably.

They seemed to wholeheartedly agree with his sentiment, and he wondered how long they had been sitting out there. He peered into the fridge, and found the remains of a loaf of bread that was about to go horribly stale anyway. He opened it and dropped its contents in the middle of the table.

"S'all I've got, sorry." he told the four birds... which didn't seem to mind at all, happily devouring the offered food. "Ha, you're easy, the lot of you." he joked, before unwrapping the package they had delivered.

It was a large golden egg. And there was a note stuck to it.

'_Don't just open this thing anywhere, it makes_  
><em> a horrible noise. Tosh thinks that it might be<em>  
><em> a good idea to run said horrible noise through<em>  
><em> a universal translator. Tosh and Owen will be<em>  
><em> joining you over Christmas to help figure it<em>  
><em> out.<em>  
><em>P.S. Don't worry about the owls, they can find<em>  
><em> their own food.<em>'

Jack turned and looked at the four greedy owls pecking at the, "Moochers." he accused, bemused in spite of this.

x x x

Transfiguration was one of Jack's poorer subjects.

He could follow the theory fairly well, but the practical lessons had always been a problem for him. Their first lesson, way back in first year, had required him to turn a matchstick into a needle... and he while he had made a very sharp matchstick with a perfectly shaped hole for thread, not a hint of metal was to be found anywhere near the thing.

As the lessons had progressed, he had been asked to turn sea-shells into jewellery... something any Muggle could do, if it weren't for the fact that the jewellery was expected to be metal as well. The fine chain he had managed to craft had still quite blatantly been made of shell, even if it was pretty and shiny enough for the teacher to accept the result.

Their first year practical exam had expected them to turn a mouse into a snuffbox. Jack had only just passed because of the fine carvings and design of the tiny box... made of bone and lined in fur. He had just been thankful he had been able to dry the blood into something that could be mistaken for paint without the examiner seeing!

It wasn't that he lacked the talent, but rather that he had the same problem with this as he did with Charms. He _knew_ how matter and physics worked, and couldn't seem to make the objects he tried to transfigure break these laws.

Extracurricularly, however, he had managed to do so much more. One of his favourite examples was turning sand into glass, and shaping it with cold magic into whatever he felt like. As long as it didn't _directly_ break the laws of physics, he could get very creative.

It was near the end of their last Transfiguration lesson before the Christmas holidays when Professor McGonagall finally decided she had had enough of Jack's failures in her class. While everyone else was turning budgerigars into Christmas decorations, Jack had simply been staring at his diminutive bird with a frown somewhere between disapproval and mild confusion for the entire duration of the lesson. He hadn't even taken out his wand to attempt any form of transformation on the chirping creature as it fluttered around his desk.

"Is something the matter, Mr Harkness?" McGonagall asked coldly.

"I'm trying to figure out how to make blood and feathers look Christmassy." he said darkly. Technically, since the bird's feathers were green, it might not be as difficult as it sounded... but that really wasn't the point. Everyone turned to stare at him for this entirely inappropriate remark.

One of the other budgies in the room imploded, as Lucy Rosier got distracted at a crucial moment.

McGonagall seemed truly speechless with horror for a few seconds, before finally explaining indignantly, "The purpose of the exercise is to alter the composition of the object, not merely its shape."

"Yeah, except that I can't." Jack said almost blankly. A few other Slytherins snickered at this, but not very loudly. Jack had yet to receive any fallout from the Hufflepuff Quidditch incident, and they knew there had to be a reason for it... most of them were too afraid to risk offending him.

Jack knew that Tosh had some trouble with this subject, too... but only for the first few lessons.

"I dread to think how one could expect a second year to endure the Triwizard Tournament, but a second year who cannot even master the basic principles of transmutation." McGonagall said with a dramatic sigh. This announcement was met with significantly more and louder laughter from his classmates.

And then the bell rang.

McGonagall waved a hand and announced, "Class dismissed. Except for you, Mr Harkness."

Jack sat back and sulked a little as everyone else ran out of the room, laughing and talking about him. He waited for the door to close behind him and the sound of retreating footfalls to fade away, before he looked up at Professor McGonagall.

"I would hate to disillusion some of my classmates, but I was raised by Muggles." Jack said bluntly, deciding that with this teacher honesty really would be the best policy, "I was very good at science, and can't get past the basic laws of physics, here. I really have tried, but-"

"I know, Mr Harkness." McGonagall said with a sigh, "One of your Ravenclaw classmates had the same problem, but asked for my help in her second week."

Jack rolled his eyes. Tosh, he assumed. She could have told him!

"Muggle sciences are not my specialisation, Mr Harkness. However, I advised your friend- and now I advise you- to speak to Miss Spinnet, in my own House. A very bright girl whose parents are Muggle physicists. She assisted Miss Granger with a similar problem, as well."

Jack nodded slowly, "No problem." he smiled, "Thanks, Professor."

x x x

Of course, a Slytherin asking a Gryffindor to help him with his Transfiguration homework did not end well. In fact, Jack ended up in the hospital wing. Owen _insisted_ that Jack had to have said something inappropriate, or at least used an inappropriate tone while asking to be tutored.

He really really hadn't!

Tosh ended up being the one to teach Jack the principles of how Transfiguration actually worked in spite of all sound reason and logic. It involved a vast amount of technobabble on the subject of subatomic particles and perception of reality... it even ended up referencing Torchwood archives and some creatures Jack had never heard of called Carrionites.

Unfortunately, Jack was a captive audience for the entire evening, stuck in the hospital wing as he was, with his ankles literally tied in a knot thanks to the creative Gryffindor girl's curse... and Madam Pomfrey's generous decision to allow Tosh to visit.

At least he understood some of what she said, and did eventually manage the basic wood-to-metal transfiguration when he practiced it later that night.

And worst of all, the curse wore off after twelve hours... just in time for him to make it to History class the following morning.

x x x

Two days before the Christmas holidays, Jack and Ianto were minding their own business, walking past the Potions classroom. Admittedly, this was on their way to find somewhere they could be alone together... but they still weren't doing anything wrong.

Unfortunately in Ianto's opinion, the door to the classroom was open, and Professor Snape saw them pass.

"Harkness." he called out. They both stopped, and looked at each other for a moment. Jack shrugged and backed up the two steps to the classroom. In that short time, Snape had managed to move from sitting behind his desk to looming in the doorway.

Ianto diligently tried to avoid the professor's attention, by pulling out and intently reading one of his schoolbooks.

"I have been told to inform you." Snape began, with all the dour resentment of one who truly despised playing messenger-boy, "That it is a tradition, expected of the Triwizard Champions and their respective dates, to lead the first dance at the Yule Ball. Which, in case you have forgotten, will be taking place next week."

Clearly the headmaster had decided that this utterly unsubtle reminder was necessary, as while even at the apparent age of twelve Jack did still flirt rather blatantly, he had not actually asked anyone to accompany him to the Yule Ball.

Jack blinked, "Date?" he asked blankly, as if this was an entirely foreign concept to him.

Snape gave Jack one of his many patented 'what are you, stupid?' looks. One of the less vicious ones he generally reserved for situations like this, where a member of his own house was doing something he found foolish. "The girl you choose to take with you to the Yule Ball."

While Jack did feign confusion, Ianto could sense the way he bristled at this statement, "Girl?"

"Yes, Harkness. A girl. Those people you see walking around wearing skirts."

Jack glanced at Ianto, who idly turned a page in his book, not even bothering to look up as he said quite firmly, "Don't. Even. Think about it."

"Does it have to be a girl?" Jack asked, turning back to Snape.

Snape, for his part, did not seem bothered by the obvious implications of this question. Only that it was continuing to waste his time. "Yes." he sneered, "It has to be a girl."

Jack was beginning to look genuinely mutinous, now, so Ianto decided to try and be reasonable. He finally deigned to put the book away again, stating simply, "Gwen." as he looked up at Jack.

Jack blinked, and turned to stare at him, "What?"

"Take Gwen." Ianto elaborated, "Rhys says she's a very good dancer."

He saw the flash of amusement in Jack's eyes that told him Jack had managed to find a double-entendre in that sentence. It was so difficult to avoid them, and Jack was far too observant for his own good, sometimes. "I'll bet she is."

An exasperated sigh from Snape reminded them he was still there, "And Harkness, you will be expected to dress appropriately."

"What's that mean?" Jack asked indignantly.

"Dress robes." Snape growled impatiently.

"So... I'm not allowed to show up wearing nothing but a strategically placed top-hat, then? Shame, that was so much fun at my last birthday..."

Snape pretended not to have heard that, instead turning and slamming the classroom door loudly in their faces.

"You enjoy infuriating him, don't you?" Ianto asked, smirking.

"I don't even do it on purpose!" Jack protested, grabbing Ianto's arm and leading him down the corridor, "Come on... I think I need to practice my _dancing_."

x x x

Four hours later...

"Gwen, Jack's coming up to Gryffindor Tower, to ask you to the Yule Ball."

Gwen jumped up from her homework at the sound of Ianto's voice in her ear. She had almost forgotten that she was wearing the commlink. The team only ever really took them off at bedtime. Nobody really took any notice of them, thinking it just some Muggle fashion. Her books and a pot of ink went flying off the table in front of her. Thankfully the ink was magically unspillable... especially as it landed on Angelina Johnson's head.

"Bloody lovely." Owen grumbled into his own comms. He stood up abruptly- though with significantly less chaos than Gwen- and wandered over to where the Weasley twins were giving out possibly-poisoned candy to first-years.

Gwen quickly scrambled to tidy up her books and then checked her hair and uniform were neat. Jack had been making a bad habit of drawing attention to himself, this year. Last year they had kept out of everyone's way- well, relatively- but she really didn't understand why he was making so much trouble for himself this year. She got a flash of the Torchwood SUV zooming around Cardiff with its name and logo branded for all to see, and considered that it wasn't that strange for him. He was probably just bored. Still, if attention was to be on her as well, she didn't want to look a mess when everyone took notice.

"Password?" Ianto asked over the comms.

"Horntail." Owen's voice answered in a hushed tone.

The door of the common room opened, and a small entourage of students appeared. All of them had friends in Gryffindor, but not one of them was a Gryffindor themselves. Most were Ravenclaws- regulars from Tosh's tech-club. Those that were not Ravenclaws were Ianto... and half of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

And Jack.

Silence fell upon Gryffindor Tower. You could cut the tension with a knife, the way most of the Gryffindors were looking at Jack... although the members of other houses seemed to be present to witness a spectacle more than as any form of support.

As if entirely ignorant of the heavy atmosphere, Jack crossed the room to Gwen with all of his usual confidence and attitude.

An infuriated muffled yell and the sounds of a minor scuffle over to one side and Gwen glanced to see Ron Weasley being held back by his twin brothers... one of whom appeared to have tied a Gryffindor scarf over his mouth to stop him from saying anything.

While everyone else was clearly uncomfortable with the presence of a Slytherin in their common room, nobody made a move to do anything.

"Gwen Cooper." Jack said, seeming perfectly at ease, as if he hadn't just _deliberately _ walked into a hostile environment just to spite the status quo, "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Gwen grinned, trying _very_ hard not to think of the fact that the way he worded that- even the intonation of his words- so closely mimicked a much more serious kind of proposal. "Yes, of course." she answered brightly.

"Whoo!" one Weasley twin cheered gleefully.

"What a catch! You go girl!" the other crowed, laughing.

Jack didn't miss a beat, nor did his trademark grin waver in the slightest as he turned to ask, "You talking to her, or me?"

The ensuing laughter at the self-depreciating joke spread to about half the house, and Jack just smirked, "Easy to please, your lot." he said quietly, "Yaxley's going to have me lynched for dating a Muggle-born, when he hears about this."

"Why would he do that?" Gwen asked, horrified.

"Because he's an ignorant racist bastard." Jack said with a shrug, "There's a surprisingly large number of them in Slytherin house... it might have some bearing on our reputation." he added dismissively.

Gwen snorted in a 'well duh' way, and Jack grinned, leading her and Ianto both to the couch. She hadn't noticed Ianto standing so close, until Jack had thrown an arm around both of them and pulled them down to sit on either side of him.

"You do realise this is just a formality, right?" Jack asked her seriously.

"What? The Ball?" Gwen asked, "Well, I kind of guessed."

"Because Snape insisted that whoever he takes to the Ball wear a skirt." Ianto added, leaning across Jack, "And I really don't feel like cross-dressing."

Jack pouted, "Aww, but-"

"No." Ianto said firmly.

"And no threesomes, either." Gwen added, laughing.

"Not even just dancing?" Jack asked hopefully, "People dance in groups all the time."

Ianto seemed sceptical, and spoke before Gwen could answer, "This isn't like that time when you said 'dancing', but you actually meant-"

"No, it's not. Honestly." Jack said, grinning unrepentantly at whatever insinuating they were referring to. Gwen found herself wishing very much not to have become a part of this conversation.

"As long as you mean strictly decent behaviour for twenty-first-century kids, on the dance floor, then I'm okay with the dancing thing." Gwen said, very carefully.

"She's getting good at this." Ianto commented, laughing, "Keep at it and one day you might even be able to command a genie without the wish backfiring."

Gwen really wasn't sure if she was expected to glare, grin or laugh at that... so she was thankful when Jack saved her from commenting by standing up suddenly, "I should probably leave. The locals are getting restless."

Gwen waved, as Ianto stood up and they both quickly departed. She looked up to see that the restless locals in question were mostly Gryffindor Quidditch players... and Ron Weasley, who only just escaped his brothers' attempts to restrain him as the portrait closed behind Jack and Ianto's fast-retreating backs.

x x x

"I don't understand why you hate him, Ron." Harry said dismissively, that evening, as they were getting ready for bed.

"Well he's a Slytherin, isn't he?" Ron retorted, as if this was the only explanation needed. "He's the enemy."

"He's not like the rest of them." Harry pointed out, "He's got friends in Gryffindor-"

"Traitors." Ron grumbled.

"He _chose _ to play for Hufflepuff-" Harry continued.

"He let the Slytherins win, though!" Ron snapped. "It was a conspiracy!"

"He's a bloody good Beater." Dean Thomas put in brightly. "Did you see what he did to Warrington?"

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Ron insisted, "He's still a Slytherin, and all of that lot are evil!"

"Mmhm." Harry mumbled, not wanting to argue again. He didn't need another falling-out with his best friend so soon after Ron had come to his senses about the tournament. "All Slytherins are evil. We hear you."

Ron scowled, apparently picking up on the sarcasm... but he didn't seem ready for a real argument again, either.

It was Neville who asked quietly, "Isn't that how the Death Eaters used to think of Muggle-borns? They're all bad no matter what, and then any Pureblood who liked them was a traitor?"

Ron blanched at that thought... then, "Piss off, Neville."

x x x


	32. The Egg And The Ball

x x x

**Chapter 32: The Egg And The Ball**

x x x

Tosh and Owen returned to Cardiff for the Christmas holidays. It was rather nice, Tosh thought. Owen didn't make one sarky comment, and without Jack or Gwen around he had nobody to argue with, so instead they just _talked_ on the train ride 'home'.

Thus they were both in excellent form when they got back to the apartment.

"Well, he's alive. That's an improvement... I think." Owen declared as they walked in to find the past-but-older-looking version of Jack sitting on the couch with a couple of bits of technology that absolutely _had_ to have been lifted from Torchwood.

"Thanks, I love you too." Jack retorted, not taking his attention off a readout he was examining. "This is downright weird, you guys know that right?"

"What's weird?" Tosh asked hopefully. Anything weird had to require investigating, and that was always fun.

"That golden egg that you lot sent me... it didn't translate into any known language, but the system did manage to interpret it." Jack said, patting the piece of tech he was reading from, "According to this it sounds like perfect English... if it's heard underwater."

Tosh and Owen looked at each other for a moment, then back to Jack, "And what did it say?" Owen asked.

Jack handed them the printout, which Tosh accepted and then read aloud.

"_Come seek us where our voices sound,_  
><em>We cannot sing above the ground,<em>  
><em>And while you're searching, ponder this:<em>  
><em>We've taken what you'll sorely miss.<em>  
><em>An hour long you'll have to look,<em>  
><em>And to recover what we took,<em>  
><em>But past an hour, the prospect's black,<em>  
><em>Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.<em>"

"Well, on the bright side it _was _ English before it was translated... otherwise I'd complain about the fact it rhymes." Owen observed.

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to translate songs from one language to another and keep the rhyming scheme." Tosh said idly, "Just requires some brains and a Thesaurus."

"So what do you kids think it means?" Jack asked. Both 'kids' looked up at him, scowling at the use of that word.

"You mean besides; _WE'RE NOT KIDS, YA BLOODY UNDYING MORON!_" Owen yelled.

Tosh giggled at that, but quickly stopped when she saw that Jack looked genuinely hurt. She cleared her throat nervously, and spoke carefully, "Well, it sounds like some magical creature that can only speak- and therefore probably lives- underwater is going to take something, and the task will be to get that something back."

"Must be something sentient, unless you can train goldfish to sing..." Owen pointed out with all his usual sarcastic wit.

Jack frowned for a moment, "Okay, what do we know that lives underwater?"

Owen and Tosh looked at each other for a moment, "The Blowfish." Tosh suggested, "They can speak in the air, but they might know if there was something weird down there..."

"Yeah, if they're not high as the space-shuttle when we try talking to them." Owen observed darkly.

"Uh... Carol ordered all of the Blowfish killed on sight. We don't have any to ask." Jack said a bit shiftily. Tosh got a rather sickening feeling that Jack had been the one ordered to carry out at least some of those executions.

"It has to be some kind of magical creature." Tosh pointed out with a sigh, "Maybe the aliens wouldn't even know about it, anyway?"

"Yay. Books." Owen deadpanned, pulling out a copy of '_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_', "Let the research begin!"

x x x

Getting into the Yule Ball was quite a challenge for most second-years. Jack and Gwen had a free pass because he was a champion and she was his date. Ianto, on the other hand... he had to bribe an older Slytherin girl to take him to the dance.

Millicent Bullstrode was not a pretty girl, by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, she was perhaps the least attractive creature in the school, and this included the demonic crossbreeds he had heard the Care of Magical Creatures classes had to contend with. This fact did have one advantage, however. It was easy to persuade her to take him to the Ball. Nobody else would ask her.

"Nice date." Jack said with a grin, when he arrived in the Entrance Hall to find Ianto trying to pretend he wasn't holding hands with a young woman who might well have been related to the Slitheen.

"Yes, she's beautiful... because when she isn't she breaks my hand." he answered through gritted teeth. Millicent smiled widely at this.

Ianto was wearing something that could just about pass for normal formalwear, except that instead of an ordinary jacket it had matching robes. Jack's formal robes were dark blue, almost the same shade as his favourite coat, and of a slightly older style that really did suit him. Meanwhile, Millicent was dressed like a pastel-orange powder-puff.

Just then Gwen arrived at the top of the marble staircase, looking a bit nervous. She was wearing a rather conservative cut, but still sleek and striking red dress and long matching gloves that left only a small amount of skin visible between her shoulder and elbow. John Hart had once dated a girl who wore gloves like that... she had electrocuted him.

"Ooooh, nice dress." Rosier whispered from behind Jack, as Gwen approached him.

He bowed slightly and took her arm in as formal a manner as was humanly possible. The dress really made her look older, Jack thought distantly. More like fifteen than twelve.

"Champions over here, please!" McGonagall called, beckoning them over.

Jack escorted Gwen over to stand next to Harry, whose date wore the brightest shade of pink ever imaginable. He almost pitied Harry for that... he might get blinded if he looked directly at the girl! Fleur had acquired the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain as her date, while Viktor... got Hermione Granger? That surprised him. Viktor could have _any_ girl in the school, even if he hadn't been champion. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty, but there were plenty of better arm-decorations around in sixth and seventh year. Maybe he had underestimated Viktor's personality.

"Hi, Harry!" Hermione said warmly, as she was lined up next to them, "Hi, Parvati!"

Parvarti- Harry's date- just seethed in jealousy at who Hermione had got for _her_ date.

The rest of the school was marched past them- like spectators at a zoo, Jack thought- and into the Great Hall. Everyone seemed to be staring at Hermione. She did look beautiful... pale periwinkle blue dress, her hair up and styled, and makeup. He kind of pitied pre-fortieth-century women for needing to make such an effort to look that good.

"Now, if you would all follow me, please." McGonagall said. It wasn't a question, it was a command, and the champions and their dates lined up in pairs- like first years to be Sorted- and followed her into the Hall. Jack made a point of being first in the line, with Gwen at his side, as McGonagall led them into the Great Hall. It had been redecorated, with dozens of smaller tables set for ten or twelve, instead of the usual long tables for each house.

Christmas had really been dragged kicking and screaming against its will, into this place. Mistletoe and ivy was strung up everywhere. The perfectly cloudless enchanted ceiling combined with sparkly clear frost-like decorations on the walls kind of made the interior of the hall look like the White Witch's palace in Narnia.

Eerily beautiful.

The table in pride of place- Jack was sure Dumbledore's chair hadn't moved an inch- seated four of the five judges for the tournament, and the champions and their dates were now led to sit at this same table.

Crouch was suspiciously absent, and in his place was a younger red-haired man who clearly recognised Harry and gestured for him to sit next to him. Jack reluctantly settled for the only remaining seats for himself and Gwen... he was right next to Dumbledore.

"I've been promoted!" Crouch's replacement announced with all the unholy cheer of the Master dancing to the Scissor Sisters... though none of the malice. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."

"Why didn't he come?" Harry asked, seeming to wish that he was anywhere but here.

"I'm afraid to say Mr. Crouch isn't well, not well at all." the red-head explained enthusiastically, "Hasn't been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising. Overwork. He's not as young as he was... though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with the misbehaviour of that House-Elf of his, Blinky, or whatever she was called. Naturally, he dismissed her immediately afterward, but... well, as I say, he's getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he's found a definite drop in his home comforts since she left. And then we had the tournament to arrange, and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with. That revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around... no, poor man, he's having a well earned, quiet Christmas. I'm just glad he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take his place."

"His personal ass-kisser, by the sound of it." Jack whispered to Gwen, who giggled.

Jack felt very much as if he was being watched... eyes boring into the side of his head from Dumbledore's direction, and so pointedly refused to look at him. Eventually, Dumbledore leaned forward and spoke to his plate instead. "Pork chops."

And pork chops appeared on his plate.

Everyone else took their lead from him, ordering from the menus in front of them.

The food was great, but the conversation was mind-numbingly boring. Mr Ass-Kisser prattled about how great Crouch was. Viktor flirted shamelessly with Hermione, in spite of failing to get her name right. Karkaroff and Dumbledore debated the relative merits of secrecy over the location of their respective schools. And Fleur complained about the decorations.

"It's like a premonition." Gwen muttered, somewhere between amused and horrified at her own thoughts, "Fleur complains almost as much as my aunt, and she's invited to... that thing with Rhys." She looked around shiftily, in case anyone was listening. Nobody was.

Still, better paranoid than caught out. That was actually one of the Time Agency's top ten rules.

For being meant as a special occasion, Jack found the entire meal to be ranked among the dullest of his life (obviously not counting eating alone), and was eternally grateful when it was over.

Everyone was asked to stand up, and with a wave of Dumbledore's wand the tables all flew away to the sides of the hall, creating space for a dance floor. A stage was then conjured to one side, complete with musical instruments.

"Are those bagpipes?" Gwen asked, slightly fearful of the answer to that.

"Be grateful they don't have Denvarian songstrings." Jack retorted. Gwen looked pained and horrified, as she tried and failed to imagine a musical instrument that was worse than bagpipes.

To resounding applause a group of wizards entered the hall and walked up onto the stage. They looked like a proper rock-band, all dark colours, metal accessories and far too much hair.

Jack held his hand out to Gwen, formally, "Would you do me the honour?" he asked playfully. Gwen raised an eyebrow. They had both known this dance was expected... but his behaviour never was.

"Certainly." she said with just the same false levity, as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her down onto the dance floor.

Jack turned to face her, in the very centre of the hall, and took her waist with his free hand. "That hand moves, it gets _re_moved." Gwen threatened chirpily, through her sweetly smiling teeth.

Jack just laughed, as the band started up a slow tune. Gwen knew how to dance, that much was clear... but she was still rather tense dancing with him. "Relax, Gwen. Pretend you're enjoying yourself." he suggested, smirking.

Gwen raised that eyebrow once more, "Uh huh. I'm not gonna say what I'm thinking, but you and Owen are bad influences."

"You know you will have to do this at your wedding? Take the first dance."

"But then I'll _want_ to be the centre of attention." she retorted, "And I'll be dancing with _Rhys_." That hurt just a little, but he didn't show it. Instead he just laughed again, turning suddenly and pulling her with him so that she spun around perfectly under his arm without even _trying_. "Wow, you really are a good dancer." she admitted.

Others soon joined the champions on the dance floor, and the more other people were there dancing as well, the less tense Gwen seemed. By the end of the first song, she looked like she was genuinely enjoying herself.

Two more, faster songs passed before Jack finally led her off to one side. She was grinning, and a bit out of breath. That last song had been pretty mad, and even Jack had decided not to try to keep going after it. He picked up a couple of drinks (something non-alcoholic called Butterbeer), and scanned the room. Ianto and Millicent were sitting at one of the tables a few feet away. Ianto was watching him.

He handed one of the drinks to Gwen, and raised his own to her as if in a toast... before trying to inhale the whole bottle in one go. It was incredibly sweet, but he really couldn't think of any flavour to compare it to.

He was just about to pick up another bottle of the stuff, while Gwen sipped her own with a bemused look on her face. But then someone interrupted him.

"Now this is just _sick_." Adrian Yaxley announced, disgusted.

Jack turned to face Yaxley, "Oh, piss off, Yaxley! I'm trying to enjoy the party, and it's not that easy when you're breathing the same air as me again."

"Dating a Mudblood!" Yaxley ranted. Gwen tensed the instant that word was said, but Jack didn't show any reaction. "And here I thought you were a proper Slytherin!"

"And here I thought _you_ had half a brain." Jack retorted so casually you'd think he was discussing the weather. "Only half, mind you."

"You rotten little blood-traitor!" Yaxley snarled, before turning on Gwen herself, "And you filthy little Mudblood! You don't deserve to be here. Nasty little whore!"

_Now_ Jack took offence, turning and stepping forward to meet Yaxley face-to-face, "You take that back." he ordered darkly.

"Or what?" Yaxley sneered, doing a rather ineffective job of trying to loom intimidatingly over Jack. Everyone was watching them now. The band had even stopped playing to witness the spectacle.

Jack just grinned dangerously, "You do _not_ want to know what I could do to you, Yaxley." he said quietly. Really, Jack had spent almost a decade employed as the _top_ interrogator for the Time Agency... the things he could do to someone he didn't like, didn't bear thinking about.

"You and what army?" Yaxley snorted. Foolish boy really didn't want to know the answer to _that_ question, either.

"Just leave her alone." Jack growled.

"What, you think you can tell me what to do, kid?" Yaxley demanded.

Jack was getting sick of this. "Well from what you yourself have said, in such _reverent_ tones, I wouldn't be the first Slytherin second year to be giving orders to his own house prefects!" he snapped. Yaxley _had_ indeed often suggested that Voldemort had held sway over those inclined to follow him even _before_ attending Hogwarts. It was most likely just a rumour, but Yaxley believed it, and Jack was throwing it back at him now.

Yaxley predictably spluttered in horrified indignance. "You- you little- _FUCK YOU!_" he yelled, drawing his wand and firing a curse as he shouted that. Jack dodged very quickly. He had heard of wordless spellcasting, and really hoped that the swear and the curse were _not_ too directly connected. He certainly wasn't about to just stand there and find out.

He _did_ however find out a moment later, as the curse struck the lead singer of the band. The spell appeared to have just been a stinging jinx, which had hit the poor man's face.

An instant later, Jack heard a cracking noise behind him, and turned to see Yaxley doubled over in pain as well, Professor Moody standing behind him smugly. "Vicious little sod." Moody muttered darkly.

Jack bit his tongue so as not to comment on that, but did grin at it all the same. Gwen literally covered her face with her palm at this situation. "Yeah, no sense of decorum." Jack agreed.

Moody grabbed Yaxley by the hair and dragged him struggling and protesting- and apparently sporting a broken leg- out of the hall. Murmuring and hateful glaring followed Yaxley as he passed through the crowd.

Jack turned back to Gwen, who still looked stunned. "You okay?" he asked her gently.

She nodded shakily, "It's just a shock to see that some people can really be that ignorant."

"And why is that shocking?" Ianto asked almost blankly, joining them. Millicent was right next to him, as if super-glued to his hand.

"It's pretty common in old Pureblood families." Millicent said rather curtly. She was no longer smiling as she has been earlier. She was back to the perpetual scowl she had worn before the Ball. "They're usually all talk, though."

"Hello." a male voice said from behind the group, with a strong accent that immediately identified him as a Durmstrang student. They all turned to face him, still a little bit on-edge from Yaxley's violent outburst. However, this boy was focused completely on Millicent. "My name is Alexei Poliakoff. I vas vondering if you vould like this next dance?" He glanced up at the band, their lead singer still wounded, "Ven it begins, ov course."

Millicent blinked a couple of times, then smiled widely once more, "I'd love to." She let go of Ianto (who shook his hand as if trying to regain some feeling in it) and walked off with the Durmstrang boy.

"Knew it'd be worth it to bribe him as well." Ianto muttered, rubbing his hand as if in pain.

x x x

"Mermaids!" Owen yelled victoriously, "Real, sentient mermaids!"

Tosh blinked, looking up from her own work on the crystal, "Really?" she asked eagerly.

"Yeah. Mermaids are real, and this book I swiped from tea-boy says there's a whole bunch of them in Hogwarts' lake." Owen said, nodding sagely as if this explained it all. Really, it did.

"That's wonderful, Owen." Tosh said happily. But her smile only lasted a moment, as she realised, "Now we just need to find a way for Jack to breath underwater for an hour."

"Oh, that's easy." Jack's very-much-adult voice called from the kitchenette, where he had been making their feeble excuse for a Christmas dinner. It actually smelled quite good, but they all knew from experience that Jack's 'cooking' had nothing on Hogwarts food. "I'll just swipe some more tech from Torchwood. They're still not on to me yet, and I've been doing this for decades."

The two of them stared at him for a moment, before all three descended into laughter. Maybe this would be easy after all.

It certainly couldn't go much worse than the First Task.

x x x


	33. Back To The Future

**Author's Note**: This chapter has been carefully designed so that those of you who hate songs in fics can just skip it if you like.

x x x

**Chapter 33: Back To The Future**

x x x

As Madam Pomfrey tended to the band's lead singer, Ianto decided to suggest a bit too happily, "You know, someone really ought to play Back To The Future, here."

"Can any of us actually _sing?_" Gwen asked, not even bothering to pretend she hadn't got the reference, "I know I can't hit a note, and Jack was great before we got de-aged... but that usually means he'd be terrible at this age."

"Actually, I can do a perfect alto before my voice breaks." Jack said, shrugging as if this was in _any _ way normal, "But if we're 'playing Back To The Future', I'm cheating." He gave Ianto a look that somehow managed to be both amused and perfectly serious, at the same time, "You won't know the song either."

Ianto laughed, and shoved Jack towards the stage, "Go on, then!"

Jack grinned, accepting the challenge with his usual unashamed pride, and he stepped up to the stage and started talking with the remaining band members. A couple of minutes passed, before Jack stepped up to the Sonorus-megaphone.

"First of all, I'd like to apologise for my housemate." he announced, "If we could disown him we would, isn't that right, Slytherins?" The vast majority of his house cheered at Jack's words, and a few shouts of vehement dislike for Yaxley could be heard from the older students. "Now I've asked the Weird Sisters to let me sing, and where I'm from this is actually an oldie... but you probably haven't heard it."

With that, the drummer started up with a beat, then half of the rest of the band joined in, in an unfamiliar but upbeat tune with a distinctly Christmassy feel to it, and after the bagpipes and cello joined in with a rousing intro- and Jack gave the bagpipes an odd look, but they didn't sound nearly as bad as one would usually expect, so he didn't seem bothered- Jack began to sing.

"_Once I found a stowaway,_  
><em>upon my ship on Christmas day,<em>  
><em>I was fair so I gave him a chance.<em>"

Ianto was shocked to hear a cheer rise up from half of Durmstrang, and realised that no one else was dancing either. They were all listening with rapt attention, as if this was a concert rather than a Ball. Jack grinned and eagerly accepted the encouragement, raising his voice to sing with- if it was possible- even more confidence.

"_You shouldn't be here, what's your tale,_  
><em>I ought to throw to the whale,<em>  
><em>He just smiled and said 'come here, let's dance'.<em>"

Ianto suddenly realised something... he had noticed the improved quality of Christmas decorations compared to last year's, and he wouldn't be surprised if Hogwarts had made this special effort just to impress the other two schools. If one of the Hogwarts Champions was capable of showing off in such a crowd-pleasing way, it would probably work in the entire school's favour.

"_He said 'borrow or steal, I'll find a way,_  
><em>To be with my lover upon Christmas day.<em>  
><em>And I'll run and I'll roam, I'll cover the ground,<em>  
><em>This Christmas I'll see you, I'll be around'.<em>"

Jack closed his eyes as he started the second verse, as if he was feeling the words more deeply than you might expect. As if he was thinking of someone specific as he sang it.

"_He told me 'bout his girl back home,_  
><em>Waiting patient, all alone,<em>  
><em>While we danced, I shed a little tear.<em>  
><em>He closed his eyes, all out at sea,<em>  
><em>I think he danced with her not me,<em>  
><em>I'll just have to wait another year.<em>"

And the Weird Sisters' guitar and violin players- doubling as backup singers, it seemed- joined in for the second chorus, having clearly picked up the words from Jack's first time through it.

"_He said 'borrow or steal, I'll find a way,_  
><em>To be with my lover upon Christmas day.<em>  
><em>And I'll run and I'll roam, I'll cover the ground,<em>  
><em>This Christmas I'll see you, I'll be around'.<em>"

He was staring up as if into space, now, a hand over his heart, so very expressive... and Ianto got the unsettling feeling that Jack was actually singing about his Doctor.

"_I think of him now, and again,_  
><em>I wonder how his journey ends,<em>  
><em>As I sail by on my lonesome sea.<em>  
><em>That stranger with the haunted face,<em>  
><em>Here then gone without a trace,<em>  
><em>Flying with his love, that's where he'll be.<em>"

And once more, Ianto was stunned by the behaviour of the other students, as more than half the hall- including most of Durmstrang, and a beautiful harmony from the Beauxbatons girls- joined in for the chorus. They got some of the words wrong, as the words themselves had changed, but nobody seemed to care.

"_Beg, borrow or steal, I'll find a way,_  
><em>To be with my lover next Christmas day.<em>  
><em>And I'll run and I'll roam, I'll cover the ground,<em>  
><em>Next Christmas I'll see you, I'll be around.<em>"

And then Jack turned his eyes straight to Ianto, and there was a deep heartfelt sincerity in his gaze, as if he was singing just for Ianto now, and that made him smile.

"_Beg, borrow or steal, I'll find a way,_  
><em>To be with my lover next Christmas day.<em>  
><em>And I'll run and I'll roam, I'll cover the ground,<em>  
><em>Next Christmas I'll see you, I'll be around.<em>"

"It sure beats Johnny B Goode." Ianto muttered to Gwen, as the entire student body, including Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, cheered and called out for more. Ianto glancing at the slightly gobsmacked Harry Potter, "If this tournament was a popularity contest, I think you'd just have lost." he informed the other champion.

Harry blinked, and looked at Ianto, "I really have no problems with being upstaged." he said, now grinning, "I actually prefer it this way."

x x x


	34. Can You Dance Like A Hippogriff?

**Author's Note**: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire movie soundtrack; '_Magic Works_'. Buy the CD, look it up on YouTube, watch the end of the Yule Ball in the movie... I don't care how you do it, just listen to it!

x x x

**Chapter 34: Can You Dance Like A Hippogriff?**

x x x

The Weird Sisters' lead singer had recovered rather quickly, and they had started up again as if nothing untoward had happened at all. Jack, Gwen and Ianto sat together, enjoying the music... and in Jack's case wondering aloud how three guitars, a cello, lute, bagpipes, and a set of drums could possibly _work_ together so well.

"Magic." Ianto had explained bluntly, "If you're at Hogwarts, that's usually the first answer to look for."

"Yes, but what kind of spell could make _bagpipes_ sound good?" Gwen asked, laughing.

"Magic's the easy answer." Jack said with determination, "Sometimes, maybe, too easy."

At this moment Luna Lovegood glided over to them, sitting next to Gwen. "Is it just me, or are there fewer Wrackspurts over here?"

"Dare I ask, what's a Wrackspurt?" Ianto asked, trying not to look too sceptical.

"They're these invisible creatures that float into your ears and make your brain go all fuzzy." she explained vaguely.

Jack and Gwen both gave Ianto a puzzled look, "They're not in any book I've read." he said defensively.

"Oh, no." Luna said, shaking her head sagely, "They don't go into books. Just people's heads. They're all over two of the other champions. I can smell them, you know. Bit like old socks." She gave Jack in particular a careful look, "But you smell alright."

Ianto snorted with barely suppressed laughter. Gwen showed less restraint, giggling rather blatantly.

"Well, thank you." Jack said, smiling at Luna for this... incredibly obscure compliment.

"Where's your date for the Ball?" Ianto asked suddenly. Luna was only third year. She had to be with someone.

"Oh, she's dancing with Vincent Crabbe." Luna dismissed with an idle wave.

"Who was your date?" Gwen asked, wide-eyed.

"Eloise Midgen." Luna said, sounding rather sad, "Sweet girl, but far too hung-up on her looks. I think it's because people make fun of her."

"Poor thing." Gwen sympathised.

"This is an outrage." Jack announced, indignantly, but thankfully quietly, "Snape didn't let me bring Ianto as my date, but Luna got to go with a girl."

"Well nobody really notices Eloise all that much." Luna observed softly, "Nor Vincent and Gregory. But they notice you, of course they care what you do."

"Crabbe and Goyle came to the Ball together?" Gwen asked, shocked.

Luna nodded. Jack scowled, folding his arms and sulking a little, but he didn't say or do anything else. He did have that determined up-to-something look on his face, now, though. That never boded well.

x x x

Ron Weasley was _not_ enjoying himself. And what was worse, he had to sit and watch with utter revulsion as everyone else had such a bloody good time, too.

Harry's date had run off with some Beauxbatons boy, and Hermione was still dancing with Viktor Krum. Vicky, he decided. Yes.

Neville and Ginny were spinning around the dance floor like mad to a really fast song, right now. It wasn't the fact he was dancing with Ron's sister... it was the fact that even _Neville_ was having a good time while Ron was not.

Even Malfoy looked like he was enjoying himself, hanging out in a corner with his cronies, drinking Butterbeers and laughing too loudly at something Pansy Parkinson had just said.

And that Harkness git. At least a dozen girls had walked over and asked him to dance. Yeah, the first two had been nervous about it, but after he said yes to both of them the others just trotted over like it was perfectly alright to ask a person you never normally spoke to, to dance. Sure, Ron would bet it _was_ easier when you know they don't say no.

He mightn't have freaked out about asking Fleur Delacour to the Ball if he'd thought for half a second that she might've said yes.

"Are you going to ask me to dance at all?" Padma asked him suddenly, darkly staring over her empty Butterbeer bottle at him.

"No." he admitted sulkily.

Padma nodded. "Fine." she said curtly. She then set her bottle down and marched straight across the hall... to where Harkness had only just sat down again.

Ron was horrified. He wouldn't have minded if she'd gone off with almost _anyone_ else, but _that git?_ And of course he did dance with her. She was two or three inches taller than him, and somehow he still managed to lead, and all.

"That's just wrong." Ron sneered as the pair danced past them, "How d'you dance with a girl who's taller than you?"

Was it his imagination, or had Harkness just met his eyes for a second after he said that? Like a sort of challenging look? Had to have imagined it.

"Hmm." Harry mumbled, "Marianna Flint asked me to the Ball, about a month ago. That's why I turned her down."

"Well, that and if she tripped up she could probably crush you." Ron laughed. Harry had to have been kidding, right? Ron would swear Marianna Flint was almost six feet tall, and just as bulky as her older brother. No way that Slytherin cow would have asked Harry to the Ball... champion or not.

After a minute, Harry spoke again, drawing Ron's dark musings from Hermione and Vicky. "Oh, no." Harry said, pointing up to the judges' table. "This is your fault, Ron. I think he heard you!"

Ron looked. And then his jaw dropped. "That git is dancing with Maxime?"

Harry seemed to think this was far too funny, doubling over and snickering like mad. It really wasn't funny. It was disgusting, is what it was!

And then out of nowhere, Hermione dropped into the seat next to Harry's. Harry said, "Hi." automatically, and Hermione started fanning herself with her hand, positively beaming. Ron seethed.

"It's hot, isn't it?" she said, far too bloody happily, "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."

x x x

"That woman is _not_ human." Jack declared, sitting next to Ianto.

"Well you can't get into any of the magical schools unless you're at least half." Ianto replied simply. Jack looked at him. He was wearing that detached and professional mask again. Jack hated that mask, but he absolutely loved forcing Ianto to break it. More important, however, was to find out _why_ Ianto was wearing it now.

"So then she's half human. The other half is incredibly strong." Jack said, shrugging.

Gwen coughed pointedly, and Jack looked round at her. Her eyes darted to Ianto and then she returned her full attention to her red-painted fingernails. Hadn't she been wearing gloves earlier?

Jack looked at Ianto now, "You okay?"

Ianto seemed to carefully weigh his options before answering, "You know, you go on about the twentieth and twenty-first centuries being repressed..." he said too-calmly, "But events like these are really just a fantastic cover-up of a mating ritual."

Gwen snorted and giggled at that.

"Then you systematically dance with every girl in the building." Ianto finished bluntly.

Jack laughed, "That's what's bothering you? Believe me, I have no interest in any of them... and much less in Madame Maxime. And I thought you said before that you didn't care if I flirted with other people, that it was just me being me?"

Ianto genuinely hadn't been bothered by it before. In light of the century he was raised in, Jack had made sure to reassure him that the casual flirting was entirely benign. And what was the point of going to a dance if you didn't dance? Entirely harmless fun, that was all it was.

"You're jealous, Ianto?" Gwen asked, grinning broadly.

"Hey, I love this song!" Luna announced very suddenly. Jack had forgotten she was even there, until she was grabbing Gwen's hand and dragging her onto the dance floor before she could say another word.

"That girl has a surprisingly comprehensive concept of tact, considering her reputation." Ianto muttered, watching Luna for a moment. Gwen had been very effectively distracted by Luna, two fourth-year Hufflepuff boys, and some fast music about Hippogriffs.

"I didn't think it would bother you." Jack said quietly, turning to look at him again. Gaping at Luna Lovegood's behaviour never did anyone any good. She simply _was_.

"I'm fine, really. I think I'm just getting a minor case of sidekick envy." Ianto muttered, "Seems to be going around. You know Weasley didn't talk to Potter for a month because of it." He smiled distantly, "Everyone wants a piece of you, and I'm left sitting here on my own."

Jack laughed, and took his hand in an attempt to be reassuring. They sat in a genuinely comfortable silence- ambient music not withstanding- for the next few minutes.

Until Jack got bored sitting still.

"You want to dance?" he asked.

Ianto smiled, and nodded, "Sure. This is a good song." He had an oddly knowing look in his eyes as he said that.

It was a slow song- the first proper slow-dance of the night- which had only just started. Jack hadn't recognised any of these songs, and was quite sure that they were the purely-magical band's own music. He really shouldn't be surprised that Ianto knew it. Ianto knew everything, after all.

He wrapped his arms around Ianto and they began to dance. The rest of the world may as well have ceased to exist, as they turned slowly on the spot. Ianto's head rested on his shoulder, and time seemed to slow down to a standstill.

The only thing that mattered to him was Ianto's body next to his, the feel of Ianto's breath on his neck, Ianto's heartbeat against his chest.

When the song rose to a crescendo, the words filtered into his mind as if from a great distance... but he did recognise the irony, and could guess why Ianto liked it.

Far too soon, it was over, and he found himself standing in the middle of the dance floor, facing his young lover in the echoing silence.

Jack really couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried. He leaned in to kiss him.

Ianto came to his senses faster, backing off at the last second, startled. And the spell was broken.

Only then did Jack realise that everyone in the Hall was staring at them, and he didn't make a move to stop Ianto from turning and running out of the Great Hall. Didn't move at all until he heard the door slam closed in the otherwise deafening silence.

"Damn." he said softly, shaking his head very slightly. This was one of those things that would embarrass someone from this century, he was almost certain of it.

Someone coughed off to the side, and Jack looked in that direction... only to see the pudgy little photographer man that had been with Rita Skeeter before, standing in the middle of a vague cloud of purple smoke. Every ounce of his Agency training screamed at him to eliminate the hostile witness and destroy the evidence. But then...

Kill the photographer, or go after Ianto?

No contest.

He turned and walked out of the Hall. Not fleeing as Ianto had, but not deigning to look back either.

x x x

Ianto was still in shock. The whole school had seen him almost kiss Jack.

He was sure Jack would try to follow him, so instead of heading down to the common room, he ran upstairs.

It only took Jack ten minutes to find him in their room on the seventh floor. He shouldn't really have been surprised... Jack could _always_ find him. Had to have some advantage that he used to track him... whether it was mind-reading, scent, or whatever else. He would need to figure out what and disable or confiscate it before they were old enough to play naked hide-and-seek again.

"Ianto?" Jack asked, closing the door carefully.

"Everyone saw us. I don't know what I was thinking." he said, trying to conjure up the will to laugh at himself, but finding it sadly absent.

"You know..." Jack said, sitting next to him now, "If you had just let me kiss you, it would have been either 'aww, young love' or 'eew, he kissed a boy'... and they'd get over it within a week." He pulled Ianto into a gentle hug, and continued in an almost conspiratorial tone, "But you ran... so now it's a romantic drama, and they'll not let it go for months."

Ianto choked with despairing laughter at that. It was probably perfectly accurate. Jack never ceased to amaze him when it came to this sort of thing. He knew so much more about human behaviour and psychology than he ever let on, but he somehow always failed quite impressively at recognising when he was doing something that normal people would be horribly humiliated by.

"I'm never going to live this down." Ianto said, leaning into Jack's embrace. He rested his head on Jack's shoulder, breathing in the scent of those fifty-first century pheromones that Jack was so proud of. It was deeply comforting, but it still failed to dispel all of his fears.

"Come on, Ianto. What's the worst that can happen?" Jack asked, gently encouraging Ianto to look up at him.

Ianto met his eyes seriously, slightly pained at the too-easy answer to that question, "My father could hear about it."

Jack frowned, clearly not understanding.

Ianto sighed. He really hadn't wanted to ever explain any more than he could avoid, about his family, to Jack. "My father died when I was seventeen. So in this time he's alive, and he _knows_ I'm at Hogwarts. I don't think he really kept in touch with the magical world, but if he knows I'm here, he might..." It was at this point that he realised he was babbling, and trailed off.

"And this is bad, why?" Jack asked blankly. Completely clueless, as if he just assumed everyone should automatically be at least half as open-minded as him.

Ianto shook his head, "I have no idea how he'll react. He was never especially pleased with any of my previous attempts to deviant from what he expected of me."

"If you don't know for certain that he'd be upset, you shouldn't let it bother you. No use worrying about what-ifs." Jack said with a shrug that shifted Ianto slightly closer to him. "I mean, if your dad was like Avery or Yaxley, and I had admitted to anyone that my parents aren't wizards, then you might want to worry."

Ianto snorted with laughter, burying his face in Jack's chest to suppress it. He felt Jack's fingers running through his hair, and after he had regained some vague semblance of composure he looked up. "So basically what you were saying is that I made a fool of myself tonight. While you, on the other hand, were an innocent bystander who had absolutely no influence over my actions, and should be cleared of all charges. Is that it?"

"Exactly." Jack said, grinning unashamedly.

Ianto rolled his eyes, smiling in spite of himself, "You, Captain Jack Harkness, are impossible."

"Why thank you, Ianto Jones." Jack said, still wearing that cheeky grin.

Ianto leaned up and wrapped one arm around the back of Jack's neck to make sure he wouldn't back away. Then he kissed him. A deep, meaningful kiss that got more passionate by the second, and seemed to last for an eternity that wasn't nearly long enough, before he had to pause for breath.

Jack didn't seem to require oxygen yet, and trailed kisses down Ianto's neck for a few seconds longer. When he finally looked up to meet Ianto's gaze, there was a real and beautifully terrifying intensity in his eyes.

"I really liked that song, you know." he whispered, before kissing Ianto again.

Ianto smiled against his lips, as he returned the kiss. Considering the words of the song... that really meant a lot to him.

x x x

On the very last day of the holidays, Jack's past-self had given Tosh and Owen their belated Christmas presents. Sort of. It was two pieces of tech, more for Tosh and the pre-teen version of Jack than anyone else.

One was a Kalidassian water-breather, which did exactly what the name implied. Its power-cells were on a similarly low-grade frequency to Jack's wrist strap, so Tosh was quite certain that with some testing it would be highly effective. She doubted Jack would be too pleased with having to go for a swim in the lake, in winter, but at least now he would be able to breathe while doing so.

Tosh's favourite of the two, however, was an Arcturian multi-phase scanner. It could detect magic, and with some practice she that it would be able to help her analyse the mysterious crystal that had brought them back in time in the first place.

She had already been working on this project with the golden pen-shaped 'inference detector' she had received from Jack the previous Christmas, and now that she had this technology to compare it to, she was sure it would only be a matter of weeks before she could program the scanner- and even Jack's wrist strap- to recognise magical energy-signatures. To be able to tell at a glance what spells had been cast where, and possibly even by whom.

She was very excited about it as she and Owen got onto the Hogwarts Express in London, and began working on it immediately, since they were allowed to use magic on the train.

x x x


	35. Even Hogsmeade Has An Elm Street

x x x

**Chapter 35: Even Hogsmeade Has An Elm Street**

x x x

The first day of school, after the Christmas holidays, everyone was buzzing with excitement, and all of them were reading the Daily Prophet. Ianto stalked over from the Hufflepuff table, and threw a copy of the newspaper down in front of Jack, "You need to get your own subscription to this thing, Jack." he said darkly as he sat down opposite him, "Tosh is complaining that she never gets to do the Arithmantic puzzles."

Jack looked at the paper and spluttered, "She actually printed this?" he laughed. Then he seemed to notice that the entire school's attention was on him, and him alone. He picked up the paper, straightened it out with a bit more dramatic flair than was entirely necessary, and read the headline aloud, "_Hogwarts' Youngest Champion Is Gay!_" he crowed, in a clear and carrying voice that everyone was able to hear.

Ianto cringed, and tried to will himself to become invisible. "Please, Jack... don't do this." he muttered, hiding his face in his hands.

"The youngest student ever to enter the world-renown Triwizard Tournament was seen, this Christmas, sharing an intimate moment with one of his _male_ classmates." Jack continued to read loudly, while the whole school listened. He glanced at Ianto, grinning shamelessly, "I like this picture, really captured your good side, Ianto."

The picture in question showed the almost-kiss after they had danced together at the Yule Ball... constantly replaying the moment where Jack had leaned in to kiss him, like an old black-and-white film, magically caught in a loop on paper. It had been purposefully cut so that it didn't show Ianto's reaction, and a casual reader might assume that they had actually kissed.

Ianto vowed to curse Skeeter, her photographer, and their entire families for the next ten generations... just as soon as he was able to learn such dark magic.

"Lies and slander!" Jack announced loudly, for the entire school to hear, "Such a narrow-minded woman, don't know why anyone believes a word she writes!" He dramatically dropped the paper back onto the table, shaking his head in mock-disappointment, "How dare she imply that I would limit myself to one gender!"

And with that, as if nothing had happened at all, Jack returned to eating his breakfast, happily ignoring the dumbstruck stares of the rest of the student body. Ianto shook his head in amazement at Jack's behaviour, and slunk back to the Hufflepuff table, trying and failing to look inconspicuous about it.

Hardly anyone took notice of the story hidden away on page eight, which suggested Hogwarts' Care of Magical Creatures teacher was a half-giant. After the infamous vampire article, Ianto wasn't the only person at Hogwarts who was deeply sceptical of anything Ms Rita Skeeter wrote... but this sensationalist slander against Professor Hagrid _would_ be a good explanation for the man's stature, and might even apply to Jack's determined assertion that Madame Maxime wasn't all human either.

x x x

The very next morning, Jack was eating breakfast opposite Draco Malfoy, who was plotting another anti-Potter PR move for the tournament. Draco's friend Theodore ("call me Theo") Nott was sitting just a bit too close, next to Jack. The article, and Jack's reaction to it, seemed to have become one of those things that you could only ignore if you lived under a rock. Or in a blue box.

Nobody else in the school seemed to care very much about the article outing Hagrid as half-giant and insinuating that Harry Potter made very bad judgements when choosing his friends.

Theodore Nott had, apparently, tried flirting with Draco Malfoy, one time. The words 'bi-curious' had been mentioned, and he actually seemed to have a girlfriend. Unlike Draco, who had threatened grievous bodily harm, Jack simply ignored Theo with a practiced ease that came from living in the same quarters at the Agency as John Hart.

When the mail came, Jack was quite startled to see about a dozen owls landed in front of him, dropping letters on his- thankfully now-empty- plate. One owl, however, hopped right up to him and held a bright red letter in its beak, offering it to him.

Jack looked around warily, not seeing any of his team nearby, and vaguely remembering Ianto saying something about red letters exploding.

"Ooooh, a Howler." Theo said, leaning a little closer out of blatantly malicious curiosity, "Go on, then... open it." At least Jack could safely guess that it wasn't going to explode... unless Theo was as masochistic as John, too.

Jack frowned, and opened the red envelope.

"_YOU DESPICABLE DEGENERATE LITTLE BEAST!_" it began, and without a single swear-word the elderly-sounding female voice continued in this vein, insulting his behaviour at the Yule Ball for a full six minutes and forty-eight seconds, as if he had some obligation to "_BEHAVE AS A RESPECTABLE WIZARD SHOULD!_" When it finally finished shrieking and dissolved into ash, Jack blinked, still slightly stunned.

But then he shook it off and glanced at Theo, as he was the one who had advised him to open it, "How exactly do I get my hands on the materials to compose a Howler?" he asked.

Theo raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, "What, the rant didn't bother you?"

Oh yes it did, but... "I've heard that sort of thing before." Jack said with a dismissive shrug.

"There's this little stationary shop right next door to Flourish and Blott's." Theo told him, "They've got absolutely everything."

Draco, meanwhile, was now watching Jack with interest, "You've got other letters, too, you know." he pointed out, nodding to the pile on his plate. Most of them were plain envelopes, although one was pink with gold trim. He carefully left that one to the last, hoping it would cease to exist before he got to it.

All of them were reactions to the Daily Prophet article. Two seemed to be agreeing with the Howler, and all but one of the others were along the lines of either 'congratulations on coming out' or 'aren't you a bit young for-'. All three of these sentiments led him to promptly but calmly set fire to the letters without reading further.

He did read the entirety of the last plain letter, however. The handwriting was very familiar to him. An old friend, even. One of very few people in this decade's incarnation of Torchwood whom he actually got on with, without wanting to kill each other.

'_What the sodding hell-_' but then 'sodding hell' was viciously scored out and it continued, '_bloody hell are you doing at Hogwarts, Harkness? I know it's you, I don't care how many youth-potions and alien do-dads you molested to look like that, it's obviously you. You screwing around with-_' ('screwing around with' was scored out as well) '_-changing timelines again, or what? Let me know, yeah? I'm up for another apocalypse if you want any help._'

Jack grinned, folding the letter up into a paper aeroplane and carefully levitating it over to Ianto. Ianto read it, and looked across the hall at Jack, "I didn't know Archie was a wizard!" he laughed.

When Jack returned his attention to the pink letter, however, he noticed that Draco was watching it as if it was fascinating.

"You know what this one is, don't you?" Jack asked him.

Draco nodded, "It's a proposal of marriage."

Jack choked, "What?"

"Some traditional pureblood families still plan arranged marriages." Draco said, shrugging, "Someone's making you an offer."

Jack warily opened the pink letter to discover that some woman he had never even heard of, named Melora Maxwell, had heard about his announcement in the Great Hall yesterday when, to quote her, '_You effectively declared yourself to be available_'... and she wanted him to marry her now-nine-year-old daughter, once they were both of legal age.

Jack blinked a couple of times, more than a bit taken aback by this. Then finally cleared his throat and asked, "And how do I politely say no?" looking to Draco and trying not to show the nausea and slight fear he felt at the content of the letter.

Draco shrugged, "There's a space for a reply. The proper way to do it is to graciously thank her, tell her you appreciate the thought and the offer, but you're not interested in making arrangements with anyone right now. Even if every word of that is a lie."

Jack snorted, "Right, thanks." he said, scowling, "You do know that this whole system is wrong on several levels, don't you?"

"But you understood to ask how it worked." Draco observed, grinning.

"I don't need to upset this woman. I have enough enemies already... even if most of them are dead now." Jack said, dismissing the entire subject, and pretending not to notice the slightly shocked expression on Draco's face at the idle remark about dead enemies.

x x x

Jack Harkness walked right up to Harry, Ron and Hermione, in the middle of the courtyard. Harry would have been nervous about being so directly approached by a Slytherin, if they weren't in full view of half the school, including Madam Sprout, Professor McGonagall, and Mad-Eye Moody. Especially Moody, Harry thought, after the Ferret Incident.

"Hey, Harry." Harkness said, his tone friendly, and his smile really not looking like it was concealing a desire to stab the person he was speaking to in the back... unlike most Slytherins.

And unlike the usual Slytherin mentality of only starting something when they had backup, Harkness was alone. Harry did see that Hufflepuff boy who usually stayed close to Harkness, nearby, taking to a Ravenclaw classmate, but neither were close enough to count as a threat.

"What do you want?" Ron snapped at Harkness, immediately defensive in spite of Harry's guess that this wasn't a threatening overture.

"Just to say thank you." Harkness said, nodding to Harry, "For warning me about the dragons."

"You _told_ this Slytherin about the dragons?" Ron demanded of Harry.

Harry scowled at Ron, then turned to look at Harkness, "Uh, you're welcome."

Harkness smiled, "Thought it might help you to know that golden egg is water-resistant." he said bluntly, "And not so unpleasant when the sound is... dampened a bit."

Harry stared at him, "You mean-?"

"Oh, no." Harkness said, glancing pointedly at each of the three teachers who were clearly watching them, before smirking in a bemused sort of way, "I don't mean anything at all. Just wouldn't want you deafening the rest of your house trying to figure it out, that's all. Draco nearly strangled me for opening my egg in the common room."

"Yes, please don't do that again, Harry." Owen Harper shouted from a doorway where he and Gwen Cooper had been lurking, "Malfoy's an ass, but I'm willing to mirror the threat!" Apparently most of the school was listening to this.

"Hey! Watch your mouth, Harper!" Malfoy called out clearly, from where he was sitting on a low wall with his friends- or minions, Harry never could tell- giving the Gryffindor in question a very rude hand-gesture from across the courtyard.

"Make me!" Owen shouted back. Harkness glanced over his shoulder at Malfoy, and Harry couldn't see the look on Harkness' face, but the older Slytherin actually seemed to back down a bit, even though the murderous glare now turned to Harry.

"You didn't have to tell me this." Harry pointed out to Harkness.

The younger Slytherin shrugged, "You're right, I didn't." he agreed, and just like that he just turned and walked away, back to his Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw friends.

x x x

"Do you reckon you'll have to fight the mermaids?" Owen asked, grinning, "Or can you just seduce them like you did with the dragon?"

The team were gathered in the Great Hall, around the Ravenclaw table. For the most part they were doing homework. Tosh was working with her scanner, and Owen seemed to be doing nothing more than looking bored and being a pest for the sake of it.

"I don't think mermaids work like that, Owen." Ianto said dismissively, nose buried in a copy of '_Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them_'.

"Oh yeah?" Owen asked sceptically.

Jack grinned, setting his Potions textbook down and leaned forward to explain. "Mermaids, and similar sentient aquatic life-forms, aren't really humanoid at all. They're basically fish that just happened to evolved to have arms, faces, and bigger brains. They don't reproduce the same way as mammals."

Ianto grinned over the top of his book, and added, "Fish lay eggs, swim off and then another fish swims along and fertilises them. No physical contact. Even the sentient ones probably don't understand the concept of flirting." He was very happy to disillusion Owen of the popular fantasy of sex with pretty mermaid women.

"Not to mention, they don't even look that human." Jack added, nudging Ianto, who flicked to a marked page in his book and turned it around for Owen to see the drawing next to the article for mermaids.

Jack's description of fish that had evolved arms and faces was pretty accurate. While the picture was labelled as a female mermaid, there was no real way to tell. Her chest was flat, shiny scales covering her entire body. Her eyes were wide and glassy, turned to the sides more than the front. Her hair was reed-like, probably some form of camouflage mechanism. Her teeth were wicked-sharp, almost like piranha. Her fingers were webbed, and her gills were very noticeable ugly scars across her neck.

"Eww, that's disgusting!" Owen declared definitively.

"The teeth are a bit of a turn-off." Jack agreed vaguely, "But I've still dated worse."

"Harkness, you're sick!" someone snarled from the neighbouring Slytherin table. Ianto looked up to see that it was Yaxley again. Ianto wondered if and when the older boy would just take the hint and give up already.

"I seduced a dragon last year, and you hadn't come to that conclusion already?" Jack sniped over his shoulder.

Suddenly the bottle of ink next to Jack exploded, splattering all over Jack... as well as both his and Owen's Potions essays. And sending shards of glass flying in all directions. A few of them grazed Jack's cheek, red blending with the blue ink on his face. Jack didn't even flinch, just slowly looked at the slightly-smoking remains of the ink bottle.

"Rotten shit!" Owen yelled, standing up and aiming his wand at the Slytherin sixth-year.

A moment later, Jack also stood and turned on Yaxley. "You had better know a spell to undo that." he said in a warning tone. He was referring to the ruined essays, Ianto was sure... as if the trail of blood running down his cheek was completely irrelevant.

Yaxley laughed derisively, "Just because you beat up that rich little snot, Malfoy, doesn't mean I'm scared of you."

Jack smiled dangerously. A truly frightening expression that was not at all damaged by the ink splattered across his face. In fact, it seemed to be enhanced by the blood. "You should be." he said ominously. There was just something about the way that Jack could threaten people that Ianto could not help but feel drawn to. It sent shivers down his spine.

"Ha!" Yaxley threw a curse at Jack, who sidestepped it easily, and it blasted a smoking black hole in the wooden table behind him.

Faster than Ianto could really follow, Jack drew his own wand from the concealed holster on his arm. Jack's lips moved, but Ianto didn't hear the spell cast under his breath. Then Yaxley's wand went flying across the hall and skittered to the ground behind the Gryffindor table. Had to have just been a disarming spell. One of the easiest to cast.

Jack grinned darkly, "Childsplay." he said brightly. Yaxley seethed, looking like he might actually throw a punch now... but instead he fled, pausing only to collect his own wand.

"I prefer Nightmare On Elm Street." Owen piped up.

Jack seemed confused for a moment, before figuring out what Owen had meant. Both Childsplay and Nightmare On Elm Street were popular horror movies, and Owen was a huge fan of horror movies. Jack slowly sat down, putting his wand away and only now raising a hand to the cuts on his face. Two almost parallel lines, easier to see now that the ink was drying but the blood was not.

Gwen, meanwhile, pointed out, "Owen, you need to get a life outside of work and movies."

"Bite me."

Gwen flipped him off.

"What's Nightmare On Elm Street?" a girl asked. She was a Ravenclaw fifth-year. Marietta Edgecombe, if Ianto recalled correctly. Several other students were watching now in curiosity and confusion. Lilah Wildsmith waved her wand at Jack, then at the homework, and finally at the ink bottle... the ink ran off his skin, the parchment and the table, and into the ink bottle, which magically repaired itself.

Even the ink that had mixed with the blood on his face seemed to separate easily. Not a drop of it was left there, not even in the cuts on his cheek. It wouldn't leave any permanent colour, as for a moment there Ianto had worried it might.

"Thanks." Jack said with a smile. The writing on the two essays was just as clear and neat as it had been before Yaxley had attacked Jack. For the second time that Ianto was aware of.

"It's this series of Muggle movies." Owen said, leaning over towards a quickly gathering group of curious Ravenclaws, "It's about this evil bloke named Freddy Krueger, who went around killing kids that lived on his street. So the parents all got together and burned him alive in his basement. Except he came back. Not like a zombie-"

"The word is Inferius." Ianto interrupted.

"-or ghost, or anything like that." Owen shot a glare at Ianto for the correction. "He came back in their dreams." Ianto was rather surprised that everyone was paying such rapt attention to Owen's poor explanation of the classic movie. Then again, the dramatic tone he was using was rather effective. "And he started going after the kids he hadn't got to before. Anything bad that happened to them in these dreams happened in reality. So if he cut you in the dream you'd wake up with the wound. If you died in the dream, you died in reality too."

The Ravenclaws exchanged stunned looks in the silence that followed.

"That's not really possible, though, is it?" a first-year boy- Stewart Ackerley, according to this year's Sorting- asked.

"This was a Muggle thing?" an older girl asked.

Owen nodded, "Muggles have really good imaginations. You should see these movies. Scary as shit!"

"The thing that really makes it unique, though..." Jack added, and it was almost comical the way they all as one turned to look at him. It was very unusual for Jack's hands to be under the table as they were now, and while Owen could easily make a rude remark about, Ianto began to feel a sense of foreboding. Especially with that kinda-evil-looking grin on his face. "Is Freddy's favourite weapon."

Ianto heard the screams before he actually saw it, but that didn't stop him jumping slightly when he caught a glimpse of four gleaming metal claws on Jack's left hand. And then Jack and Owen both started laughing like mad while their audience- mostly Ravenclaw and mostly younger students, though a couple of older Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and Jack's two Slytherin friends, had also been watching- all shrieked of gasped or otherwise reacted with fear or shock.

Gwen rolled her eyes dramatically, and shook her head. "Boys." She and Tosh giggled.

"Ah, Jack..." Ianto said carefully, smiling in spite of himself, "Freddy was right-handed."

"Yeah, but so am I, and I needed my wand to make this thing." He now held up the very effective replica of Freddy Krueger's bladed glove for Ianto to get a better look at it. It was then that he realised the main body of the glove had once been designed for Quidditch players to wear to improve their grip.

"How'd you make it?" Tosh asked, giving in to her curiosity.

"Some spare twigs from my broomstick, a Quidditch glove." Jack smiled brightly at her, "And your Transfiguration tutoring, of course."

"That's creepy..." Malcolm Radford muttered, awed.

"Yeah, and if Yaxley tries anything on me again, I'll tell you where I'm shoving it." Jack added far too brightly, waving the fingers of his left hand so that the blades flashed in the light.

Laughter ensued, "Didn't know you liked that movie..." Ianto said as casually as he could.

Jack just shrugged vaguely... but gave him a rather pointed look that said there was an explanation but now was not the time. Ianto waited patiently until the crowd had dispersed, chattering about Muggle movies. One Ravenclaw asked Tosh if it was possible to watch movies at Hogwarts, and she promised to work on it.

Finally, when the team was alone, Jack deigned to explain, "I blame one of my old partners at the Agency. They were really into this century, especially popular culture."

"There was more than Hart?" Gwen asked, shocked.

"Yeah." Jack said as if it shouldn't be that much of a surprise. The four horrified stares now directed his way made him laugh. "Oh, he was the worst by a long shot. Some of the other Agents there were positively civilised."

"Wow, I hadn't expected to hear that." Owen laughed, "Thought the lot of them were all like you two."

Jack gave Owen a sharp look, "You comparing me to him?"

"Well... you're not usually that civilised, either." Owen protested.

Jack looked to Ianto now, "Silencing spell?"

Ianto couldn't help smiling a bit at that. "Still working on it." he promised.

Jack glared at Owen, and then mimicked Gwen's choice of obscene hand-gesture. With Freddy Krueger claws on the hand in question, it was somehow infinitely more amusing.

x x x


	36. Water Resistant

x x x

**Chapter 36: Water-Resistant**

x x x

Getting the golden egg underwater was not as easy as it seemed.

Harry had absolutely no doubt that Harkness had told him the truth. Oh-so-evasively, but that only made him more certain that it wasn't a trick. And if it was, what was the worst that could happen? He'd get a bit wet, was all.

Taking the egg with him when he showered did nothing for the noise. All he got for trying that were shouted threats of violence and insulting questions to his sanity from the other boys, through the locked door.

So he then tried to think of somewhere he could immerse the egg completely.

He remembered Hagrid's reaction to Rita Skeeter's article about him. Even though nobody else had taken notice of the article, Hagrid had been incredibly upset by it, gotten himself really drunk, and then confessed to Harry, Ron and Hermione that it was all true. At some point between the getting drunk and the admission of truth, he had dunked his head in the trough around the back of his hut, to try and clear his head.

Harry decided to try and use that for the egg. So he wandered down to Hagrid's hut as casually as he could, with the golden egg tucked under his arm.

Making sure he was entirely alone, he dropped the egg into the trough. It opened as it hit the bottom, and the noise he heard was most definitely 'dampened'... but also muffled beyond comprehension. He was truly thankful that the trough was behind the hut, out of sight of the castle, as he glanced around once more before dunking his head under the water as well.

It worked!

A beautiful melodic song echoed through the water, and he carefully memorised it before surfacing for air and retrieving the egg. Only to turn around and find Hagrid staring at him as if he had gone completely round the bend.

Harry's eyes widened in shock, "Er, Hagrid! Hi! I- I was just- er-" He held up the egg by way of explanation, and Hagrid's 'what are you, mad?' look immediately softened into understanding.

He nodded sagely, "Ah, figured it out then, have yeh, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"Suppose you'll be wantin' to find a way to stay underwater fer longer, now, won' yeh?"

Harry nodded again, this time hopefully.

"I reckon I know jus' the thing." Hagrid said, leaning closer and tapping the side of his nose in that 'just between you and me' gesture he used all the time. "Professor Moody an' I were talkin' about it jus' last week, as a matter of fact."

x x x

On the morning of the Second Task, Jack casually wandered down to the edge of the lake, to find Tosh, Gwen and Owen waiting for him, "Hey guys, are we ready for this?"

"Yeah, I reckon so." Owen said, nodding, "We tested the tech down here, the other day, and it didn't short-out in the magic, or anything."

"Yes." Gwen said with a grin, "Owen went for a little swim."

"Bullshit!" Owen cried in feigned indignance, yet still grinning as he said it, "You evil women bribed three of the biggest Durmstrang boys to make me walk the bloody plank!"

"It wasn't expensive." Tosh said brightly, "I think they enjoyed it."

"No! Ya think?" Owen sniped, still grinning brightly.

"Where's Ianto?" Jack asked suddenly, "It's not like him to be late." and true enough, the others had got here early, but the rest of the school was starting to gather for the main event and Ianto was still nowhere to be seen.

"I haven't seen him since Professor Sprout sent for him last night, while we were in the Library." Tosh said, glancing at the others.

"Me either." Owen said, shrugging.

Gwen just shook her head.

Jack stared out into the lake, suddenly very distant, "'_We've taken what you'll sorely miss..._'" he quoted softly.

"You don't think...?" Gwen asked, also staring out into the lake, now.

"No way." Owen protested.

"I'd not be surprised if there's some kind of advanced enchantment to make it perfectly safe to keep a human hostage at the bottom of the lake." Tosh murmured, "It would also explain why Ronald Weasley was dragged away from Harry Potter's last-minute attempts to learn how to breathe underwater."

"Potter and Weasley?" Owen choked.

"They're best friends, Owen." Jack pointed out, "Not everything is about sex."

"You're the last person I ever expected to hear say that." Owen grumbled.

Jack shook his head, and pulled up the sleeve of his robe to reveal his Vortex Manipulator, pressing a couple of buttons to locate the tracking-microchip Ianto had as a souvenir of being employed by Torchwood One. Tosh had one, too... courtesy of UNIT. It was just a good thing no one had tried kidnapping Owen or Gwen, yet.

"Signal's coming from the middle of the lake." Jack said quietly, "Damn!"

"Well now you know what the mission is." Owen offered hopefully.

"'_An hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took._'" Jack quoted darkly, "'_But after that the prospect's black, too late it's gone, it won't come back._'"

They exchanged uncertain looks, "I doubt the safety precautions they've so highly vaunted this year will allow that to really happen." Tosh pointed out, "It's probably just... motivation. A way to emphasise the time-limit we're working with."

"Well I'm not about to find out if that's true or not." Jack said with determination, "I'm going to get him back."

Fast footfalls drew their attention to Harry Potter, as the Gryffindor Champion finally deigned to join the other three champions at the shore, and Ludo Bagman quickly waylaid him, speaking in an undertone that Jack couldn't hear.

Jack watched them both, eyes narrowing. Ludo had done this for the First Task as well... and now he had just jumped way up the suspect list, and required further investigation.

Tosh began to count off from a clipboard, "Wand?" Jack held up his wand. "Check. Waterproof watch?" Jack took off his Vortex Manipulator, handing it over to Tosh, as it wasn't technically waterproof- although it had survived some pretty extreme situations including floods before now, better safe than sorry- then he showed her the watch on his right arm. "Check. Goggles?" Gwen handed a pair of swimming goggles to Jack. "Check. Kalidassian water-breather?" Owen handed over the breathing tech. "Check." Tosh smiled brightly, "I think we're good to go. How do you feel?"

"Freezing." Jack grumbled.

The instant he said it, he suddenly didn't feel cold. He turned around to see Draco Malfoy standing a few feet away, "Warming charm."

"Thanks." Jack said, nodding to him. During this exchange, Harry returned, looking quite displeased and shooting irritated and confused glances at Ludo.

Draco laughed, "In spite of what you did to that poor naive dragon, I'd still rather you win than Potter." Harry, only a few feet away now, glared at Draco, while clearly chewing on something and therefore unable to comment.

Jack had already put the water-breather in his mouth, so instead of answering that he simply waved to Draco and his team, before kicking off his shoes and discarding his school robe to reveal he was only wearing a t-shirt and jeans beneath it. Then he stepped into the edge of the lake. He greatly appreciated the warming charm, now, as he was sure the water was absolutely frigid.

Hypothermia was not a pleasant way to go.

Ludo Bagman's voice suddenly echoed across the grounds, magically enhanced by a Sonorus spell, and silencing the babble of the crowd that had been drifting down from the stands, "Welcome, everyone, to the second task. Our champions are all ready, here, so the task will start on my whistle. They have precisely one hour to recover what has been taken from them."

Harry stepped up between Jack and Fleur, still chewing. Jack gave him a brief glance, almost concerned, but Harry adamantly ignored him, staring determinedly out at the lake itself.

Viktor was sitting in the shallow water, muttering an incantation that sounded like a form of Transfiguration, far too advanced for Jack to recognise. Fleur had already cast a spell on herself that had conjured a bubble- one would assume of breathable and magically self-renewing air- around her head.

"On the count of three, then." Bagman announced, "One... two... three!" a whistle sounded.

Jack immediately dived, hearing the other three splashes to indicate that the others did the same, an instant before all sound was drowned out underwater.

He swam straight ahead, in the direction he had seen Ianto's tracking signal coming from... keeping the bottom of the lake in sight at all times, even when it made a sudden drop almost like a cliff-face at one point. This became gradually more difficult, as thick fields of suspicious-looking weeds grew the further he swam... and there was no way he was going to be dumb enough to try to swim _through_ those.

He was already starting to get tired, and had lost track of how much time had passed, when he finally saw what looked like a village in the middle of the murky water.

He circled the village, seeing what must have been mermaids- well, mer-people, at least- gathered around the centre of their small settlement. Waiting. Behind them he saw four human forms, each one tied to a stone pillar by a single line of rope to their ankle.

Not exactly secure... and Tosh had insisted the previous night that mer-people weren't generally hostile to humans. In fact, if this tournament really was all just a game, then they were probably willing participants... unlike the dragons, last time.

He slowly approached the centre of the village, and the mer-people moved aside for him... allowing him to reach the stones unhindered. It suddenly seemed too easy, and he wondered what the trick had been, besides learning to breathe underwater. Were there supposed to have been water-monsters in the forest of weeds?

He really didn't care, right now, though. A glance at his watch showed that he had been down here for forty-nine minutes.

He tried to untie the rope from Ianto's ankle, only to find his fingers slipping on the slimy material. His patience evaporated very quickly, and he pulled out his wand, pointing it at the rope.

He tried to say 'Diffindo'. It didn't sound like that, and the spell didn't look like it... but it did sever the rope, and that was what really counted.

He put his wand away again, and dived down to the lakebed, where he used the ground for extra leverage to kick off and launch himself upwards, catching Ianto under the arms as he swam up. Looking back down at the village below, he saw two other champions arriving. Harry Potter was first, easy to spot in heavy black Hogwarts robes... and then a male form with a shark's head and swimming trunks... which he assumed was Viktor Krum.

Hmmm... Viktor was fit.

He shook that thought off rather quickly, and doubled his efforts to swim to the surface. Didn't want to lose an easy first place because he was too busy admiring the Durmstrang Champion's ass. That might be a bit embarrassing.

x x x

Ianto had been entirely unaware of what had happened, since Professors Sprout and Dumbledore had told him he would be playing a part in the Second Task. As a hostage.

He briefly wondered who chose these hostages, but then he decided that whoever it was had eyes, and that was probably enough.

Hermione Granger- Viktor's date for the Yule Ball- was here. So was Ron Weasley- rarely ever seen away from Harry Potter. And a very young blonde girl who had politely introduced herself with the words, "'Ello, I am Gabrielle Delacour. I 'ear we are to be 'ostages, for ze tournament." with a sort of childish glee at the thought, that made Ianto feel quite certain this girl still believed in knights in shining armour, and fairy-tale princesses.

Then Dumbledore had explained the trance spell, which would make it unnecessary for them to breathe until they re-emerged from the waters of the lake. Too bad that it took a master charmscrafter- namely Professor Flitwick- to cast it, and it _did_ put the subject to sleep for the duration. Otherwise it might have been an effective way to deal with the task itself.

Now, however, Ianto woke up in far less pleasant conditions than those he had been put to sleep in. The middle of the sodding lake!

It was very cold... but the good news, which he noticed almost immediately, was that Jack was holding him in his arms. Pulling him towards the shore. Jack, who was wearing nothing but a completely drenched t-shirt, and equally soaked jeans.

"Hey, good-looking." Ianto gasped, in what he hoped could be interpreted as a joking tone, as he now began to try to aid in the process of staying afloat, rather than relying on Jack for it.

Jack laughed, "For someone who's been stuck at the bottom of the lake for at least an hour, you're not so bad yourself."

Ianto was now actually swimming on his own, though Jack had one arm around his shoulders just in case. "Wet t-shirt and tight jeans. Jack Harkness, if only you were a few years older..."

Jack splashed some water in Ianto's face, making him cough... but they were both laughing now, "Don't tease me, Ianto."

They were still laughing when they reached the shore, where Madam Pomfrey immediately began fussing over them... draping warm blankets over their shoulders, and once she had determined that neither of them were injured she offered them each a small bottle of potion. The odd pattern of smoke rising from it in curling wisps was rather distinctive.

Neither he nor Jack felt particularly inclined to drink it... until Gwen, Owen and Tosh showed up and Owen announced, "Oh, that's Pepperup potion. Very good for nerves and cold. No, it's doesn't come in coffee-flavour, but you probably should drink it."

They did so, and it was disgusting- tasted a lot like burning- but Owen was right, it did help almost instantly.

They all watched the lake, now. Ianto leaning against Jack, head resting on his shoulder. They watched as what at first looked like a shark surfaced, instantly transforming into the surly face of Viktor Krum, pulling his hostage to the shore. Harry Potter emerged last... but he was dragging two hostages. Ron Weasley, and the little girl.

Fleur Delacour immediately shrieked in happily, leapt up from behind them and ran to the lakeside. Ianto was startled. He hadn't even seen her there.

While the Beauxbatons Champion cried with relief, and sang Harry Potter's praises for rescuing her little sister, Jack handed over the alien water-breather to Tosh, and she in turn gave him back his wrist strap.

As he was still fastening it onto his arm, Ludo Bagman's voice echoed through the stands from nearby.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows. Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by Grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

"I deserved zero." Fleur sobbed quietly, as the crowd cheered for her.

"Jack Harkness was first to return with his hostage, with one minute and nine seconds remaining of the hour, in spite of showing no evidence of magic used to endure the Task. We award him forty-eight points."

"Sixty-nine seconds left... really?" Owen asked, as if this was far more important than the number of points awarded. Gwen smacked him.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

Bagman waited for the applause to die down before continuing.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was a very close second to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges-" Bagman paused to glare at Karkaroff in particular, "-feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However... Mr. Potter's score is forty-two points."

"There you go. Harry!" Weasley's yell could be heard quite clearly across the platform, "You weren't being thick after all! You were showing moral fibre!"

"Oi, I've still got that fork, Weasley!" Owen yelled back.

Weasley retaliated with a hand-gesture at Owen that was only considered rude in Britain.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June." Bagman announced. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

Madam Pomfrey started to try to guide the champions and hostages towards the castle, but Ianto ducked past her and hurried over to Bagman, "Hey. I'm not disputing the score or anything... but if Jack finished first, what happened to the other two points?"

"That was for not letting you enjoy it too!" Owen shouted. Ianto's hand jerked towards his wand, a dozen curses flying through his mind... but he restrained himself. He would wait until there were no witnesses... then Owen would regret it.

Bagman didn't seem to get the joke, "Er, no. No, Professor Karkaroff was of the opinion that without evidence of magic used Mr Harkness may have cheated. We did eventually agree not to pursue that possibility. But, well, his opinion did affect the score."

Ianto nodded calmly, "Alright. Thanks."

He then turned and ran back to the others, with the sole intention of maiming Owen.

x x x


	37. Espionage

x x x

**Chapter 37: Espionage**

x x x

Harry and Ron were walking up to the castle, after the Second Task. Hermione was still with Krum, and while Ron was technically walking with Harry, he was wholly preoccupied with entertaining three second-year girls- Delemza, Romilda and Victoria- with the entirely imaginary tale of how he had come to be at the bottom of the lake. Apparently the mermaids had kidnapped him, after he had tried to fight them off. How Ron imagined the mermaids could have gotten to him on dry land, Harry really wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Still, Harry smiled at the fact that Ron finally got to be centre of attention for a change. He was clearly loving every second of it.

"Hey, Harry." Jack Harkness called from behind. It was quiet enough that Ron, mid-rant about underwater kickboxing, didn't notice in the least, and just kept on walking with the three girls.

Harry stopped, turning immediately to face the younger Slytherin. He might not be as wary of Harkness now- they had each helped the other out with their respective tasks in this tournament- but there was still something fundamentally wrong about turning your back on a Slytherin. Ever.

Just then another voice shouted from nearby, "Owen Harper, you are _DEAD!_" It was Ianto Jones... the boy who Harkness had nearly kissed at the Yule Ball.

Then Harper zoomed past them, closely followed by the enraged Hufflepuff. For being both younger and shorter than Harry, that kid looked downright scary, charging past them with murder in his eyes.

Harkness laughed, grinning at Harry, "Yeah, you really don't want to piss him off."

Harry stared, "Er... right." he mumbled, rather stunned by the random interruption, before suddenly remembering who he had been talking to, "What do you want, Harkness?"

"I just wanted to talk." Harkness said, holding his hands out to show he meant no harm. Okay, so Harry believed he wasn't a threat right now, but there had to be more to it than just casual conversation. The talking had to be for a purpose.

"About what?" Harry asked, edgily.

"Well who do you think put your name in the Goblet?" Harkness asked. It sounded like a friendly- possibly even concerned- question, rather than an admission... although Harry did not rule the latter possibility out completely, just yet. "Only, I definitely cheated to survive down in the lake for an hour, and according to all the books I've read there's no fourth-year spells that'll do it."

"And what, a Slytherin cares about my wellbeing?" Harry asked, in what he hoped was a joking tone.

"Yes."

Harry blinked, doing a double-take at that totally serious and incredibly blunt admission. "Really?"

"I really didn't expect to be chosen for Hogwarts. I just did it to annoy the Weasley twins." Harkness admitted, taking a step closer. He must have noticed when Harry tensed at the advance, and stopped almost immediately. "But whoever put you in for it either wants you dead, or is cheating in your favour."

"In- in my favour?" Harry asked, shocked. "What? Why?"

"Well, you're three years younger than the other two, but you still beat them both hands-down in both tasks." Harkness pointed out darkly. "That takes more than luck... and Bagman seemed far too interested in you, right before each task."

Harry stared... but just as he opened his mouth to deny it, he realised that it was true. Bagman really had been far too intent on Harry's plans for each task, asking if he was sure he was ready, and offering help. "Why would he?"

"No idea." Harkness admitted with a shrug, "I'm going to interrogate him later, but I was hoping you might know something to make that a bit easier."

"When you say interrogate...?" Harry asked cautiously.

Harkness smiled, and Harry would swear he looked genuinely dangerous for a moment, before suddenly turning charming again. "Just some friendly conversation. Nothing that'll leave any permanent scars."

Harry stared.

"Well, not physical scars, anyway." Harry backed away a step, and Harkness laughed, "I'm kidding! I'm just going to scare him into telling me why he's so interested in you."

Harry shook his head, really not wanting to know how a second-year planned to scare a fully trained wizard... and not doubting for a moment that if anyone could do it, it was him. "Look, all I know is he wanted to make sure I knew what I was up against, and offer to give me advice. Now that you've said whoever put my name in might be trying to _help_ me- can't imagine why- he _did_ sound a bit over-eager to make sure I got through okay, but isn't that normal? I mean, Bagman's harmless!"

"Maybe he's got big money on you winning? I've heard he's a compulsive gambler." Harkness said with a slight shudder, as if whoever he heard this from had told him that and more, whether he had wanted to listen or not. "Who else has been asking you about the tournament?"

"What, anyone who helps me is a suspect, now?" Harry asked defensively. Ron and Hermione had helped him. So had Hagrid and Moody.

"Depends who helped you."

"Besides you, you mean?" Harry demanded, "You Slytherins really are a bunch of evil, scheming, paranoid gits, aren't you?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"You want to know who I think put my name in?" Harry snapped, "Karkaroff! He used to be one of Voldemort's servants, maybe he's trying to kill me off, like everyone thought Sirius was last year! He's just being more discrete about it!"

Harkness blinked, "Karkaroff? Really? Huh, I had almost crossed him off the suspect list."

"There's a suspect list, now?" Harry asked, his anger fading slightly, in awe of the almost professional attitude this boy was taking to the problem at hand.

"Yep." Harkness nodded, "Right now, Bagman's at the top of the list. Crouch is a close second, then Moody and Karkaroff."

"Crouch?" Harry asked, confused, "Moody? Why?"

"The way they reacted, when I said the culprit was a bloody moron." Harkness said with a dismissive shrug, "Bagman was third on the list, until he started paying too much attention before the tasks."

"But that means... you think Crouch?" Harry asked, "But he's the head of magical law enforcement. Why would he want to hurt me?"

Harkness shrugged, "I didn't know much about him until that night. I just observed his reaction, that's all."

"Were you watching everyone?" Harry asked, very surprised at the other boy's unusual interest. If Harry was making a suspect list, Harkness might be on it now, too.

"Mmhm." he nodded, "Dumbledore was doing the same... watching. Fleur and Maxime were both too honestly indignant to be guilty. Bagman was far too pleased with the situation. Krum didn't seem to care. Moody didn't even blink, which could mean he was trying not to react."

"Moody's been helping me, too." Harry admitted, "The summoning charm in the first task was his idea... and he told Hagrid about the gillyweed, and then Hagrid told me. But Moody's an old friend of Dumbledore's, he wouldn't-"

"Trust no one." Harkness said, grinning maliciously now, "A favourite quote within Slytherin house, and these Pureblooded sons-of-bitches I share a common room with would wet themselves if they knew it was from a Muggle TV show."

Harry snorted with barely stifled laughter at that. "Are you really trying to help me?" he asked quietly. The insult to pureblood prejudices _did_ help.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" Harkness asked, smirking now, "Because if I wanted to hurt you, of course I'd tell you I wanted to help... just to make you let your guard down."

With that infuriatingly confusing- and entirely logical and believable- remark, he turned and left Harry standing there, staring after him in shock.

x x x

Owen had been confined to the hospital wing for a week. No one but he and Ianto knew who had put him there... although Jack may suspect. But there was no way he was about to admit that tea-boy had so successfully ambushed him, disarmed him, and managed a perfect rendition of a curse that was supposed to be tough for fourth years, that had turned his face into something strongly resembling the barnacled hull of a ship.

Still, it hadn't been all bad. After Madam Pomfrey had given him something for the pain, he had taken to spending his time snooping around when she wasn't watching. Magical medical salves and potions were now secreted in his coat pockets and schoolbag for further investigation.

It had been a productive week, and he still deemed the insult to have been worth it.

"Hey, still alive, Owen? I'm surprised." Gwen laughed as she met him outside the hospital wing. She came bearing coffee, which he eyed sceptically. Gwen's coffee was never to be trusted.

"House Elves?" he asked. Gwen nodded, smiling, and he immediately accepted the coffee and inhaled half of it. "Still not as good as at work." he muttered, the closest he would _ever_ get in his life to complimenting Ianto Jones. The Hogwarts House Elves really didn't make coffee as well as he did.

"So how was your stay in the hospital wing, this time?" she asked casually, turning to guide him down towards the entrance hall. Owen followed, not at all bothered by the why of wherever they were going.

"I missed History class, so it was worth it." Owen said with a firm nod. He decided not to mention his petty theft to Gwen, she tended to get a bit judgemental about crime. Probably came from having been a policewoman before Torchwood.

"Jack wants our help with something 'important'." she explained, as they walked out of the front doors and started down the path towards the front gates of the school.

On the bright side, Owen thought, they weren't headed for the lake or the forest.

As they reached the front gates, Owen heard tea-boy protesting the plan, "But we're not supposed to leave the grounds during term. If I get detention with Snape, I will never forgive you!"

"We're not leaving the grounds. And it's a dumb rule, anyway." Jack retorted dismissively, as Gwen and Owen joined them, "The forest is on school grounds, and it's a hell of a lot more dangerous than meeting someone at the gates. Ianto, Gwen, Tosh, positions?"

Tosh? Where was she? "I'm good." Tosh called down from a precarious looking perch at the feet of one of those stone boars that Owen was sure actually _watched_ the gates.

Gwen nodded efficiently, and then quickly stepped around the other pillar, out of sight. Ianto stepped behind the pillar below Tosh. It was, Owen suddenly realised, a planned ambush!

And now Jack was turning on him. This didn't bode well. "Owen, you and I will pick a fight with each other. When the target rushed forward to break it up, the other three will surround him." Well, at least _he_ wasn't the target. Good to know these things.

"Who're we ambushing, then?" he asked as casually as he could manage.

Jack nodded out through the gates, and Owen looked. Strolling cheerfully up the path from the nearby village was Ludo Bagman. "Oh, we're assaulting a Triwizard judge. Nice."

"Stop talking and start fighting." Ianto hissed irritably.

"I'm gonna love this." Owen muttered, grinning maliciously. Then he turned and threw a punch at Jack, who blocked and tried to hit back.

It wasn't meant to be a real fight, but just because they were both pulling their punches didn't mean Owen couldn't relish the fact that his fist connected a bit more solidly than necessary with Jack's smugly handsome face.

It took at least thirty seconds- by which time Owen already had what felt like a couple of bruised ribs and Jack had earned himself a split lip for this ludicrous plan- for the bumbling wizard they were here to take by surprise finally deigned to interfere. Bloody coward stood there spluttering in shock for about five of those seconds, and then shouted at them for ten more before finally intervening personally.

"Depulso!" The spell threw Jack a couple of feet backwards, sprawling onto the ground, away from Owen. "What the- just- just what is this all about then?" Bagman asked, flustered.

"Well Owen seems to think that the whole conspiracy against Harry Potter was orchestrated by someone who wants to profit from him being in the tournament." Jack explained casually as he pulled himself to his feet. Bagman paled horribly. Guilty as all hell by the look on his face.

"And we were wondering if you'd know anything about that." Ianto said, stepping out from behind the stone pillar.

Gwen also stepped out from her hiding place, looking grim, "Expelliarmus." There went the adult wizard's only means of self-defence, soaring through the air and into Gwen's hand.

"Levicorpus." Tosh's voice called clearly, from above... and Bagman was levitated about a foot in the air by the scruff of the neck.

"So, Ludo, is there anything you'd like to tell us?" Jack asked coolly, somehow managing to seem like he was looking down at Bagman even as the already taller man was suspended in the air above him.

"Yeah, fess up!" Owen ordered sharply.

"I- but- you see- well- er- the thing is- no- I-"

"Full sentences would be preferable." Ianto said coldly.

"I- I do have a- a small wager on- on Harry winning." Bagman stammered, "But I- well, you see I never put his name in! Only placed the bet the week after the drawing!"

"Yes, because that makes so much sense." Jack drawled, clearly disbelieving.

"You- you can ask my book-keepers if you want to! I swear I never- I wouldn't- couldn't possibly- really never would!"

"You have a criminal record, Ludo." Ianto put in, "You were tried after the last war, for suspicion of passing information to Voldemort."

"I was innocent! Never convicted!" Bagman cried, horrified.

"But you _did_ steal the information." Ianto insisted.

"Insider trading! I had a bet on for who would be the next head-of-department! That's all!"

Jack and Ianto exchanged a dubious look, then Jack shook his head and asked Bagman, "So you _are_ in it for the money, but you really don't have a clue who put Harry's name in?"

"No idea! I swear!"

Jack sighed and turned his back on Bagman, clearly disgusted, "Well this was a waste of time."

Tosh made to lower their hostage to the ground, but Owen held his hand up "Wait a minute." he said, eyeing Bagman carefully, "You made a bet with the Weasley twins at the Quidditch cup."

Bagman paled once more, "With who?"

"Don't play dumb with us, we can tell when you're lying." Jack said, idly turning back to face him, "And Owen's right, they don't shut up about you for five minutes."

"Common room's a nightmare." Owen grumbled, before adding, "You never paid them."

"And we'd like to buy them." Ianto added, catching on quickly, "So in exchange for us not telling everyone about your criminal record and illegal gambling, how about you give us the twins' money."

"Yeah, _Bagman_." Owen sniped, "Where's the money?" Gwen chuckled at that one.

"I- I don't have it- I'm broke! Your friends aren't the only ones after me!"

"How much do you owe?" Tosh asked carefully.

Bagman looked up at her, startled at where she was sitting, "Er, I- I suppose I'd say about... ten thousand to the goblins, and fifteen hundred to your friends."

Tosh stared, "You owe fifty-seven thousand, five hundred pounds in _gambling debts?_" she asked sceptically, "Even my cousin isn't that bad, and he's got fines for rigging the machines, on top of everything else!"

Bagman spluttered defensively.

"There are ways to get out of debts like that without paying." Jack pointed out darkly.

"Oh, please don't." Owen complained. Gwen also spluttered at this, clearly guessing what Owen was thinking.

"Oh, shut up Owen." Jack said sharply, turning back to Bagman, "What do you think, Bagman?" he continued, "We can arrange to erase your debt to the twins, if you help us."

"Where're you gonna get that sort of money from?" Owen demanded.

"Unlike you, Owen, some of us know the meaning of a savings account." Ianto sniped, smirking faintly.

"I- what would I have to do?" Bagman asked, clearly shocked and confused.

Jack grinned, folding his arms and staring up at Bagman in an authoritative way, "Since you're not the one who put Harry Potter's name in for the task... we want you to watch everyone else involved in the tournament, and report to us if you see _anything_ unusual. If you notice one of them so much as sneeze out of turn, we want to know about it."

Poor guy stammered for a moment longer, then finally sighed, "Yes. Yes, alright, I'll do it." Once he conceded, Tosh lowered him to the ground again, allowing him to land very lightly and neatly on his feet. He glanced up at her warily, and she just smiled back smugly. "Er-" he turned to Jack, "How do you want me to contact you, then?"

"In person." Jack said blankly, "There's another school Hogsmeade visit in a few weeks. Meet us here while everyone else is down in the village, tell us everything, and if we're satisfied we'll pay off the twins. Simple as that."

Bagman scowled, but then nodded quickly, conceding to this plan, "Of course, of course, yes."

x x x

One week later.

'_LUDO BAGMAN'S DARK PAST_  
><em> A reasonable witch or wizard would like<em>  
><em> to believe that the Ministry of Magic<em>  
><em> takes great care in the appointment of<em>  
><em> its officials, however this reporter has<em>  
><em> recently discovered that Ludo Bagman,<em>  
><em> head of the Department of Magical Games<em>  
><em> and Sports, has for many years indulged<em>  
><em> in the sordid pass-time of gambling.<em>  
><em> Having confessed to placing bet on issues<em>  
><em> ranging from games originating within his<em>  
><em> own department to matters of official<em>  
><em> Ministry business.<em>

_It has recently come to light that while_  
><em> this very reporter attended a trial<em>  
><em> years ago in which Mr Bagman was accused<em>  
><em> of passing vital information to the Dark<em>  
><em> Lord, You-Know-Who, he did in fact steal<em>  
><em> the information in question, for personal<em>  
><em> use in his extensive gambling habits.<em>

_And now, even today, Mr Bagman has_  
><em> recently admitted to placing bets on the<em>  
><em> current Triwizard Tournament. His wager<em>  
><em> that Harry Potter will emerge victorious<em>  
><em> from these trials has led to speculations<em>  
><em> that Mr Bagman himself did in fact submit<em>  
><em> the young Mr Potter's name for the<em>  
><em> Tournament.<em>  
><em>Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter.<em>'

Bagman never showed up to report any unusual information to the Torchwood team. It was the general consensus amongst the team that this intrepid reporter must have somehow witnessed their confrontation- though none of them had seen her- and Bagman must now believe that they had willingly passed this information on to the sensationalist journalist.

As if any of them ever would.

So much for gaining a new ally, they had in fact found a new enemy in Rita Skeeter.

x x x


	38. The Chamber of Secrets

x x x

**Chapter 38: The Chamber of Secret_s_... That Means More Than One Secret**

x x x

The whole Torchwood team were currently standing outside a relatively innocuous door on the second floor.

"You're sure this is where he said it was?" Jack asked.

Owen nodded curtly, "Yep, finally weaselled it out of the Weasley." he said, grinning darkly.

"This is where the girls said the messages were." Gwen put in.

Jack nodded slowly, staring at the door as if half-expecting it to bite. "Matches Draco's story, too." he admitted.

"So how do we do this?" Tosh asked.

"Walk in the front door?" Jack suggested, grinning.

"How are you not in Gryffindor?" Ianto sniped, rolling his eyes.

Jack didn't answer, simply stepped forward and pushed the door open. Behind said door was an equally innocuous bathroom. It felt disused, but at least it wasn't filthy.

"One of the sinks, mate." Owen said, shrugging.

Tosh stepped forward, pulling out her scanner. After a moment, and a bit of beeping from the scanner, she pointed to one sink in particular. "There's traces on that one. I think it's a locking spell, like on the common rooms."

"Password, then?" Ianto suggested.

"Weasley said it was Parseltongue. Snake-hissing." Owen sulked, eyeing the sink darkly.

They all looked at each other for a moment, then Gwen shrugged and made a noise that sounded like a cat being strangled.

Nothing happened. "Was worth a try." she said when they all looked at her oddly.

"That's not what snakes sound like." Owen sniped, "They're more like..." and he tried his own impersonation of hissing.

"Not like that, silly boy!" a girl's voice all-but shrieked at him. They all looked up to see a ghost-girl floating overhead, looking supremely indignant at their very presence here.

"Moaning Myrtle." Tosh said with a sigh, as if this should explain everything anyone needed to know about the girl.

Jack eyed Myrtle up, "Besides being dead, what's she got to moan about?" He smiled that trademark cheesy-captain grin at the ghost, "She's cute."

Myrtle stared at him for several seconds, then swept down to floor-level, so that she was face-to-face with him, "You're lying." She made it sound like a question, hopeful of a vehement denial. And she was not to be disappointed.

"I am not. You're very pretty." Jack said in his most charming tone. He then reached a hand up to the side of her face, making a gesture as if to brush hair behind her ear. Naturally it had no effect on the ghost, but she giggled all the same.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Owen muttered darkly, "That's necrophilia right there!"

Myrtle visibly bristled at this, but Jack distracted her quickly, "I really don't think I care. I'm considering jumping off the astronomy tower right now, she's just so damned cute."

Myrtle giggled again, and it did look like she was blushing... the way the silvery shade of her cheeks deepened slightly.

"Never kissed a ghost before..." Jack added, grinning.

"Oh!" Myrtle giggled some more, "I like you."

"Tell me how to open this, and I promise I'll come back." Jack suggested, "One way or another."

After a great deal more giggling, Myrtle turned to the sink, "It sounded like this..." The noise she made was closer to Owen's attempt than Gwen's, but it was definitely unique. And the sink slid away out of sight, leaving a deep chute headed downwards.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Ianto asked warily.

Tosh took out her wand and waved it at the chute. "Lumos Longinquus." The expected flare of light appeared from the tip of her wand... then shot downwards. The light faded fast, completely out of sight.

Owen gave her a look as if she'd done something that really wasn't all that smart at all. Then he dropped a stone down the chute. Where he got it from was entirely unexplained, but it did rattle down into the distance, with no indication of reaching the bottom.

"Well, that was informative." Ianto muttered darkly.

"Harry and Weasley got down there just fine." Jack insisted, "It can't be a fatal drop." Before the others could argue with him, Jack jumped down into the chute and out of sight.

"Damnit!" Owen yelled.

"It's safe!" Jack shouted up, after only ten seconds, "Kinda fun, too! I wanna go again!"

The team exchanged exasperated looks, then one after another they followed him.

x x x

Tosh's light spell was hovering overhead, easily illuminating the tunnel for them. She guided it with the same technique that any first-year would a levitated feather, as they followed Jack along the only path open to them. They had been walking for quite some time, past animal bones, an absolutely giant snakeskin, and what looked like a partially cleared cave-in.

"How do we get out of here?" Owen asked suddenly, from behind the rest of the team.

"Worst case scenario?" Ianto asked, "Back the way we came, and some very careful levitation charms."

"Wha-?" Owen asked blankly.

"I think we're here." Jack said, stopping... the rest of them also turned to look up at the vast round door engraved with seven snakes.

"What was that noise Myrtle made?" Gwen asked, frowning at the incredibly realistic carvings. It felt like the stone snakes were watching them.

Ianto mimicked it, and the door slowly creaked open. They all stared at him, and he shrugged, "I've got a good memory. Why are we surprised?"

Jack laughed, turning to follow the ball of light that Tosh had just sent through the door. It flew up to several feet overhead, lighting up a vast chamber lined with statues of snakes. "What's the word for loving snakes too much?" Owen asked, awed by the grand architecture.

"Ophiophilia." Jack said automatically.

"It really disturbs me that you know that." Ianto muttered.

"I've got a good memory, too." Jack said with a sly grin.

"It's like some sort of atrium, or temple." Tosh said, following her light into the middle of the chamber. She carefully read her scanner, turning on the spot, as she did so, "Atrium." she said with a nod, "There's a concealment spell at the feet of that statue."

"Well that'll be the only one with feet, then." Owen said, nodding sagely. Tosh blushed a little, and nodded in agreement.

"All these giant snake statues..." Gwen muttered, eyeing them warily, "Didn't the legend say there was a giant killer-snake down here?"

"A Basilisk." Ianto corrected.

"Yeah, but Potter killed it." Owen said dismissively.

"Still, probably better not to look into scary statues' eyes, anyway." Jack muttered idly, following Tosh over to the concealment spell. He stopped, however, staring behind a pillar. "Dead giant snake over there." he added, pointing.

Gwen and Ianto rushed to see this dead snake, Owen close behind them muttering, "Morbid sods, the lot of us, huh?"

The snake was rotten and decaying, its scales faded to grey like the shed skin back in the tunnel. The smell was oddly localised, not permeating much further than a few feet of air beyond pool of dried blood it was lying in. It was missing a fang, but vivid green venom seeped from the one remaining fang, still liquid even after the rest of the beast had reached this state.

Gwen covered her mouth in shock, "A _real_ twelve-year-old had to _fight_ that thing?" she asked, eyes wide and utterly shocked by this concept.

"Kinda feel sorry for the golden-boy, now." Owen muttered, "I don't wanna imagine trying to fight this thing even with all our resources at Torchwood."

"I've got it!" Tosh declared, tapping the wall next to the feet of the statue with her wand. A portion of the wall slid back, revealing an immaculate hallway.

They all stared at it for a moment, before Owen spoke up, "Feels kind of wrong to go in there when we're all dirty from the slide."

"I'd try a Scourgify charm, but that's sixth-year level." Tosh offered, shrugging slightly. Still, none of them made a move to enter the corridor.

Ianto was the first to step towards it. "Tosh, is the scanner picking up anything around the doorway?"

"Yes, just one signal, but I can't identify it. It reads on the same frequency as the Muggle-repellents around the castle grounds, but I-" She looked up suddenly, as she thought of a possible explanation. "You don't think it's...?"

"Mudblood repellents?" Ianto suggested darkly.

"Language, Jones!" Owen sniped, grinning all the same.

"Fuck off, Harper." Ianto retorted, before taking another step towards the corridor. He carefully drew his own wand, "Finite Incantatem."

Suddenly the corridor didn't feel that bad. Gwen took a step forward, then Jack stepped past Ianto and into the mouth of the corridor itself. "Tosh, keep us posted if you see anything in here." She nodded, and the tiny but powerful ball of light whizzed past Jack's ear and into the corridor ahead of them.

Gwen peered back over her shoulder into the darkness, at the dead snake... and shivered. Then quickly turned to follow the others into the spotless hallway.

Then she turned around and yelped in shock. The others all turned around to see their own slimy footprints vanishing from the floor behind them.

The cleaning spell spread to their shoes, and then swept quickly up their legs, seeming to have the same effect in seconds as thoroughly laundering and pressing their pants. And this might be the first time any of them had seen the natural colour of Owen's trainers! It just kept going, magically removing all the slime and dirt from their clothes and skin. From the soles of their shoes right up to the tips of their fingers and hair.

"Whoa, that was... interesting." Jack announced, grinning a bit too much.

"Don't know who you think you're fooling, Jack." Gwen muttered, "I didn't feel anything."

"Still beats a sonic shower on a Terran militia freighter, any day." Jack muttered, running his fingers through his suddenly-clean hair.

"Let's just hope the rumours aren't all true, and that was the only sort of 'cleansing' old snake-lover's gonna wanna have done on intruders." Owen muttered, staring at his fingernails, which had been cleaned so thoroughly.

Jack shook his head, "I'm sure we're safe enough for now, Owen. Let's keep going."

At the end of the corridor, they discovered a large and spotlessly clean room, containing a vast collection of unusual artefacts. But not a spec of dust marring any of it. "Well, we know he likes the place clean." Ianto muttered.

"You must be related." Owen sniped weakly, staring around in awe.

There was a collection of cages off to one side, of varying sizes. A heavy wooden desk covered in potions equipment and ingredients. What looked like a bird's nest sitting perfectly preserved to one side, and several rolls of parchment piled up next to it. In one corner stood a notably elegant, polished wooden stand, taller than any one of them, which was clearly designed as a perch for a bird.

Owen was at the potions equipment in an instant, while Tosh carefully scanned and then picked up a roll of parchment. She paused, waving her scanner at the other things on the table, confirming that Owen was not about to touch anything dangerous. She seemed satisfied, and unrolled the parchment, which appeared in no way old or fragile.

"There's spells all over this room, but aside from cleaning I think all it's doing is preserving and maintaining the equipment and materials here." she explained. Then she frowned, "Oh, I hate Ye Olde English." she added, muttering, "Prefer alien languages, slightly less confounding."

Jack laughed and took the parchment from her, scanning it easily, "These are research notes on magical creatures and experimental potions and spells."

"So what, he was like the wizarding world's version of a scientist?" Gwen asked.

"Mad scientist, if you ask me." Owen muttered, prodding a jewelled cauldron with interest.

"I could have told you that, Gwen." Ianto said, eyeing the cages carefully, "He wrote a dozen textbooks on potions, charms, enchantments and magical creatures." Suddenly he froze, "Speaking of which..."

Everyone turned to look at the cages. A shadow shifted in the largest one. Jack took a step closer, while Tosh held up the scanner. "It's reading as magic, not organic." she said nervously.

Jack stopped at the bars of the cage, peering in. The shadow came forward quickly, and stopped eye-to-eye with Jack. Yes, now it had eyes... glowing white eyes. And it growled quietly at him.

It was still more shadow than anything corporeal... but the shadows took a form that seemed very much like that of a dog.

"Well aren't you gorgeous?" Jack said. Only _he_ could grin like that at a clearly dangerous beast. It tilted its head, staring at Jack intently with those eerily blank eyes.

"Cwn Annwn." Ianto whispered from behind the rest of them.

They all looked at him, and Gwen laughed shakily, "Very funny, Ianto."

Ianto shook his head, "No, I'm not kidding. It really does look like a..."

"A Grim." Owen said with a nod.

"A what?" Tosh asked, frowning.

"It's an omen of death." Gwen said, watching the creature with morbid and intent fascination, "And Salazar Slytherin got one in a _cage_."

"Looks like he had some other things in cages, too." Owen muttered, pointing to the cage next to the Grim.

Unmoving, and clearly slashed in several places, laid a tattered cloak that looked like it had once belonged to a Dementor. Gwen shuddered involuntarily, while Tosh carefully scanned this cage and then several more, "It looks like the Grim is the only thing still alive down here. As far as I can tell."

Jack let out a breath he had been holding since he had seen the unnatural cloak, and then looked back a the Grim, "You're not so bad, are you?" he asked it. It sniffed at him through the cage bars, and then whimpered and backed down, blatantly submissive, like a scolded puppy.

"The omen of death is scared of Jack Harkness. Why am I not surprised?" Owen asked, deadpan.

Jack rolled his eyes, standing up and reading the parchment in his hands, "You should hear the stuff this guy's been researching. Potions that our textbooks say were only invented a couple of centuries ago... creation of magical species." He hesitated for a moment, staring blatantly at the page, before continuing in a noticeably more awed tone, "Life-cycles of perpetual parthenogenesis and genetic memory-"

"It doesn't say that." Owen interrupted snatching the parchment out of Jack's hands. Then he read it, "Although that's a pretty good rough translation."

"What's it mean?" Gwen asked.

"Magical species like phoenixes and ashwinders don't breed like normal animals." Owen explained, squinting at the fine handwriting and old-fashioned spelling as he read and drastically paraphrased, "Says here that if ashwinders- more snakes!- are only allowed to lay a single egg, the offspring show evidence of remembering everything their parent knew. Short life-spans, but over time he trained a bunch of them right up, from dumb animals intent on nothing more than laying eggs that'll burn your house down, to really smart little magical helpers. He was also researching phoenix life spans, and trying to identify what made them regenerate when they died... says he was hoping to find a way to transfer or copy this attribute into other species."

"Virtual immortality." Tosh said, with dawning comprehension.

"Yeah, something like that." Owen said, still reading.

Jack cleared his throat suddenly, "Yeah, well... we can look into all of this in more detail, later. But first, I think we need to try and find another way in or out of this place. I doubt someone like Slytherin would have the _only_ access to his top secret lab in the _sewers_."

"Yeah. You're probably right." Owen muttered, reluctantly putting down the notes, and continuing to eye them longingly for several seconds, before shaking himself out of it.

"There's two more magically hidden doors, in here. Let's see what we find." Tosh said, looking up from her scanner and nodding to the side wall.

The first door they tried led to a store-room, just as immaculate as the main laboratory, and containing a vast array of potion ingredients and magical apparatus, some of which none of them could identify.

The other door led to a large room that smelled of dust but still remained as spotless as the other two. The room was surrounded by yet more statues, just as the first chamber had been. But aside from that, the only thing here was a stone plinth in the very centre, illuminated by a dim shaft of natural daylight, which rippled as if filtered through the waters of the lake. The plinth itself had strange writing on it. It looked like some kind of ancient runes.

Tosh scowled at it for a moment, then started typing into her scanner, frowning in deep concentration as she worked.

"She'll get it." Owen said with a confident nod.

"Whatever it is. This room feels like a tomb." Ianto added darkly.

"Oh, come on, don't be so pessimistic." Gwen insisted nervously looking around in spite of herself, "There's no coffins or anything."

"It won't translate!" Tosh protested, "I copied all of '_Ancient Runes Made Easy_' and '_Advanced Rune Translation_' into this thing. This must be a different language."

"Is there anything else in this room?" Ianto asked, stepping up beside her at the plinth.

She scanned around them carefully, "No... just this. It's giving off a strong magical signal, though."

"It must be here for a reason." Jack said with a frown, "And the only other way out is back through the slime." He paused to think for only a second, not long enough for the others to come up with any suggestions, "If we don't figure it out in another hour we'll go back that way."

While the others worked on the translations, Gwen searched the edges of the room. Coming up with nothing new, she sat down on the floor and stared up at the light source for a minute, "Hey, couldn't we get out that way?" she asked, pointing up.

They all looked at her. Then up at the ceiling. "It's _through_ the lake." Owen pointed out edgily, "Probably be easier to do the Second Task than to get out of here that way."

"But maybe that's what this is? A magical elevator?" Tosh suggested, indicating the plinth.

Jack checked his watch and shook his head, "We can come back to it another time." he said definitively, "Now how were you planning on getting us back up that slide, Ianto?"

x x x

Moaning Myrtle was very excited when the Torchwood team came back up from the Chamber of Secrets. She flew circles around Jack twice, then stopped in front of him, bobbing in midair as if she was alive and able to bounce on the balls of her feet.

"Ooooh, did you have fun down there?" she asked, eagerly.

"Yes." Jack said, flashing his trademark grin at her, "Thank you, Myrtle." He stepped towards her, and she in turn floated down to be on eye-level with him. Never before had the phrase 'her lips ghosted over his' been more accurate. And it sent a shiver up his spine at the sheer cold of it. And when he stepped back she was giggling quite madly. "I promise we'll come back, some time soon."

Leaving the girls' bathroom and the gleeful ghost-girl behind, Ianto muttered, "You're completely shameless, Jack."

"I can't help it if I'm irresistible." Jack said, grinning, "But you know you're the only one I _really_ want."

"Of course." Ianto answered dismissively, although Jack really couldn't tell if he was genuinely flattered or sarcastically sceptical.

x x x


	39. Like Talking To Thin Air

x x x

**Chapter 39: Like Talking To Thin Air**

x x x

On the evening of May 24th, Harry set out alone for the Quidditch pitch, to see what the Third Task could be. Halfway there, Jack Harkness and his Hufflepuff... friend, Ianto Jones, caught up with him.

"The suspense is killing me!" Jack declared, grinning, "And Montague's wasn't happy, either. They did _something_ to the pitch that means this weekend's Gryffindor game is cancelled."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. He hadn't heard of this. Since the casual games had all planned to exclude the champions, Ginny had been playing Seeker. Brilliantly, he must admit.

"Yeah, he thought that without you on the team, they'd be able to walk all over Gryffindor." Jack explained, somehow positively gleeful, "I told him that Yaxley called him an ignorant prat for caring about Quidditch, and now they're both in the hospital wing."

"Ah, the high point of his year." Ianto stage-whispered to Harry, who didn't get it.

"Took out two enemies, with one idle remark. That's always fun." Jack agreed.

Harry snorted, "This is a Slytherin thing, I take it?"

"No, most Slytherins aren't that good." Ianto said with perfect seriousness.

They had just reached the Quidditch pitch, now, and Harry stared at it in horror. Thick hedges seven feet high were growing out as far as Harry could see along the length of the pitch.

Fleur, Krum and Bagman were already waiting. "Hello, there!" Bagman called out to them. He gave Ianto an odd look, but then simply shrugged and continued. "Well what do you think? Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month, and Hagrid'll have them twenty foot high. Don't worry, you'll have your Quidditch pitch back to normal, once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

"Maze." Krum said, after a moment's silence.

"That's right! A maze. The Third Task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the centre of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks." Bagman said, cheerfully.

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" Fleur asked.

"There will be obstacles. Hagrid is providing a number of creatures... then there will be spells that must be broken... all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champion who is leading on points will get a head start into the maze. Then Mr Krum will enter... then Mr Harkness, and finally Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

No one spoke. It really didn't sound fun in the least.

"Very well." Bagman said, rubbing his hands together briskly, "If you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we? It's a bit chilly."

Jack and Ianto as good as flanked Harry as he turned to head away from the Quidditch pitch. Harry just caught the glare Jack shot Bagman's way, and the usually boisterous man looking both angry and flustered before turning and stalking back towards the castle.

"What did you do to Bagman?" Harry asked, a moment later. He also noticed that Krum was following the three of them, a short distance away.

"The Weasley twins offered me a percentage, if I could make him pay up on a debt he owed them." Jack said, smiling with entirely false innocence.

"All right..." Harry said warily. Truth be told, he was relieved that Bagman wouldn't be bothering him about the task, this time.

"Too bad about Quidditch." Jack said idly, "I was kind of looking forward to seeing Warrington getting his ass whipped again. And that Ginny Weasley is really good, too."

"There's something about that family, I think." Ianto put in. "You know, I have an aunt- second cousin twice removed? I lost count- who said that women make better Quidditch players than men." Ianto said bluntly. To Harry Potter and Viktor Krum's faces.

Jack laughed nervously, and dragged Ianto out of the line of the pair of death-glares the two Seekers were aiming at him, "I'm sure there's a flaw in her reasoning somewhere." he told Ianto, "But I'll tell you right now that even I find it uncomfortable doing acrobatics fifty feet in the air with only a poorly padded broomstick between my legs."

"And you think that's her reasoning?" Ianto asked, now staring wide-eyed at Jack.

Jack shrugged... but then he saw the malicious glint in the eyes of all three of the other boys. Two Quidditch stars and one Quidditch fan... and he had just gone and made an incredibly indecent suggestion about the sport. He laughed, turning and running away as fast as he could, while Ianto shouted after him about what he'd do with a broomstick, when he caught Jack.

Quite unsurprisingly, Harry and Krum gave up the chase very shortly after these threats were issued.

While Harry caught his breath, staring after the two insane second-years, Krum asked, "Are those two boys, ah..."

"Did you _see_ them at the Yule Ball?" Harry asked. This seemed to be a resounding 'yes' to Krum's question, and the older Seeker simply nodded. Jack had circled around the Whomping Willow, and was now charging back towards them at full speed, Ianto close behind him.

Harry just barely heard part of a laughed and joking threat that involved the phrase 'singing soprano', from the Hufflepuff.

After a moment, Viktor shrugged and muttered, "To each his own. More girls for me."

Ianto stopped near them, apparently having heard this, and allowing Jack to escape into the castle. He laughed, "You clearly don't know Jack that well." he informed the Durmstrang Champion with a cheerful grin.

Krum scowled at Ianto, but turned to Harry, "Could I haff a vord?"

"Yeah, all right." Harry said. Ianto wasn't that far away, staring up at the castle doors with a thoughtful look on his face, but Krum seemed not to deem the Hufflepuff second-year that important.

"Vill you valk vith me?" Krum asked.

"Okay." Harry said warily. Krum started to lead him down towards the forbidden forest. This surprised Harry, who had sort of expected to head towards the lake and the Durmstrang ship. "What're we going this way for?" he asked, nervously.

"Don't vant to be overheard." Krum answered curtly.

Harry heard a rustling noise behind them and glanced over his shoulder... but all he saw was Fang sniffing intently at the wheel of the Beauxbatons carriage. Harry continued to follow Krum.

x x x

It took all of Ianto's considerable willpower not to laugh when Harry failed to spot his poor attempt at stalking. This was not helped by the fact that Hagrid's drooling pet boarhound was trying to sniff him far too intently, in places only Jack was allowed... and he couldn't kick it away or tell it to shoo until the other two were out of earshot.

He had followed them because he was curious at Krum's overly secretive manner. His mind racing through everything from '_I vant to talk about the Third Task_' to '_I know who put your name in the Goblet ov Fire_', complete with poor mental impersonation of Krum's accent. He was rather shocked when he caught up to them to hear the conversation was only about Rita Skeeter's ridiculous article about Hermione Granger.

"We're friends." Potter was explaining, "She's not my girlfriend and she never has been. It's just that Skeeter woman making things up."

"Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often." Ianto stifled another laugh at the mispronounced name.

"Yeah. Because we're friends."

"You haff never... you haff not..."

"No." Potter said definitively.

Krum nodded curtly, seeming to accept this answer. After a moment he commented. "You fly very vell. I vos vatching at the First Task."

"Thanks." Potter said with a goofy hero-worshippy grin. "I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. The Wronski Feint, you really-"

Ianto had just been about to leave before they started debating flight statistics and broomstick measurements, when something moved behind the trees. Potter quickly grabbed Krum's arm and pulled him away from it. Ianto had drawn his wand immediately, as well. He remembered Sirius Black telling him about the monsters in the forest, and didn't want to take any chances.

"Vot is it?" Krum asked aloud.

Before either of them could react a man stumbled out of the undergrowth. It took a moment to recognise him as Mr Crouch. He looked like hell. His clothes were torn, he was scratched up pretty badly, and his skin was pale as death itself. It was as if he had been stumbling blindly through the forest for days. And he was talking quite animatedly to thin air next to him.

"Vosn't he a judge?" Krum asked, staring. "Isn't he vith your Ministry?"

Harry nodded.

Ianto decided it was time to show himself, and stepped out from his own hiding place, "Sorry, I was spying on you in case Krum was going to tell you something about the tournament that Jack might also want to know." he said, perfectly matter-of-fact. They both looked at him, then at each other. Both shrugged, conceding wordlessly this was perfectly reasonable Triwizard Tournament behaviour. Ianto indicated Mr Crouch, asking, "Whats wrong with _him?_"

"...Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve..." Crouch prattled on as if he didn't notice the three bewildered students staring at him. His eyes were glazed as if he was seeing another world entirely from this one, and the talking-to-thin-air only reinforced that theory.

"Mr. Crouch?" Harry asked warily.

"...and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen... do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will..." Then suddenly he fell over to one side, falling to his already scraped and bloodied knees.

Ianto flinched in sympathy, in spite of the fact that Crouch showed no sign of pain at the landing.

"Mr Crouch?" Harry repeated, this time in the universally recognised deaf-and-stupid-people tone. "Are you all right?"

"Vot is wrong with him?" Krum asked.

"It looks like something's affecting his mind." Ianto said, holding a hand out to stop Harry from moving closer to Mr Crouch. "He might be dangerous."

"Dumbledore!" Crouch suddenly shouted, pained. No, pained was an understatement, this man was in agony. He reached out wildly towards them, falling forward and landing on his hands when he found nobody there, "I need... see... Dumbledore."

"Why?" Ianto asked immediately, sharply.

"I've done... stupid... thing..." Crouch gasped. It seemed like every word cost him great effort. As if he was fighting for every _breath_. "Must... tell... Dumbledore..."

"Tell us." Ianto commanded, in his best ordering-around-UNIT-mooks voice. It never failed when he had been an adult, but he hadn't tried it since he had been de-aged. "Then we'll take you to Dumbledore."

Crouch's eyes rolled up to look at them, and Ianto felt sick for an instant before remembering Jack's warnings about mind-readers and deliberately not meeting his eyes. "Who... you?" Crouch gasped.

"You clearly don't have much time." Ianto snapped, "If you want Dumbledore's help we're on your side. Talk."

Crouch shook his head, "Stupid... thing... my fault..." he all-but sobbed as he fought to speak, "My... boy... I couldn't... he..." But then his eyes shifted noticeably, and he turned to the tree next to him, "Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge."

Ianto grit his teeth to avoid swearing. He hated mind-control. He blamed it for Lisa, in a way... without the software those cyber-implants wouldn't have been an issue.

"Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.S, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response..."

Ianto rolled his eyes, exasperated, and put his hand up to activate his commlink, "Jack? Anyone, I don't even care if you two red-haired demons are listening in."

"It is contagious?" Krum asked.

Ianto turned on him sharply, and hissed an explanation of, "Communication spell." Krum seemed to accept that with a frown.

"Weasel One-"

"-and Weasel Two-"

"-checking in-"

"-over."

"Oh hell." Owen groaned over the commlink.

"Which of you is closest to Dumbledore's office?" Ianto asked.

"That'd be us." a twin answered. Ianto was sure that was the second twin... 'Weasel Two', as he had called himself.

"Snape's in the area, and we have dungbombs." Weasel One explained.

"So mature." Ianto sniped, "You two can go play hide-the-explosives with the potions master later. First, I need you to tell Dumbledore he's needed just past Hagrid's hut. And it's urgent."

"Yes sir, mister tea-boy sir!" Weasel Two cheered.

"You two're getting as bad as me." Owen laughed. Ianto shuddered at that thought.

"Yeah, why's he call you that, anyway?" Weasel One asked, clearly referring to Owen's choice of nickname.

"Because I make coffee." Ianto answered in a sulky mutter.

Silence drew out for a few seconds at that. Ianto could just imagine the incredulous way the twins must have looked at each other for that.

"I... escaped..." Crouch said, suddenly speaking urgently again. Ianto's full attention was back on him in an instant. "Must warn... must tell... see Dumbledore... my fault... all my fault... Bertha... dead... all my fault... my son... my fault... tell Dumbledore... Harry Potter..."

Harry jumped at the mention of his name. Crouch wasn't looking at him, likely hadn't really recognised him. This warning was _about_ him.

"The Dark Lord... stronger... Harry Potter... danger..." With a visible snap, his eyes shifted, and he started talking to the tree once more, "Yes, yes, Weatherby. Thank you, I'll see to those papers at once. Indeed, we can't have this insidious woman slandering the good name of the Ministry. Simply must print a retraction. Rumours of deaths, Ha! The very idea. Quite preposterous! If there are any such rumours it's because she started them!"

"I remember that article..." Ianto said, frowning.

"Me too." Harry agreed. "Death Eaters at the Quidditch Cup. Ron said the same thing about the rumours."

"He said your name." Ianto added, looking at Harry carefully. Harry tensed and didn't answer. "That you were in danger, and the Dark Lord is stronger...?"

Harry shook his head, "Voldemort's dead. Isn't he?" He really didn't sound too sure of it.

"You'd know that better than me." Ianto muttered, frowning. He tapped his commlink, "Hey, smartarses, where are you?"

All he heard in answer was Snape yelling abuse at the Weasley twins.

"Damnit! Can't you two focus for five minutes?" Owen yelled, "You're worse than Jack, and with an even worse motivation for the not-focusing!"

"Owen, shut it." Ianto hissed, "Twins, I told you to go fetch, now politely tell Snape to shove it, and get a move on."

Harry stifled a mad laugh when he said that.

"Ianto Jones." Jack's voice purred over the comms, "How I love it when you give orders like that."

"Jack, are you anywhere near Dumbledore's office?"

"I am now. Hello there boys." Ianto could just imagine him waving at the them.

"Cockroach clusters!" the twins chorused.

And then even more verbal abuse from Snape ensued.

"This might take a while." Ianto said with a sigh, before sitting down against a tree, leaning back and staring at Crouch.

He was still rambling on at this imaginary character named Weatherby.

x x x

When the twins had shouted about abnormal snack-foods (and Jack could think of a few aliens he knew who might appreciate such a treat), the gargoyle statue slid to one side. While Snape focused on yelling at the twins, Jack slipped quickly up the stairs and out of the line of fire.

He pushed open the door at the top without knocking, and wasted very little time admiring the eclectic and eccentric decor, before spotting Dumbledore behind the desk and speaking briskly, "Professor, there's something that urgently requires your attention, down by the forest behind Hagrid's hut."

Dumbledore raised a mildly sceptical eyebrow... but he could clearly sense the urgency, and nodded sharply, standing and gesturing to the door, "Lead the way."

As they crossed the entrance hall, the Headmaster asked, "What, may I ask, is the problem?"

Jack tapped his commlink, "I'm... not sure exactly what it is Professor." He said it loudly and clearly, fully expecting a covert answer from Ianto.

Nothing. Just static.

"But it suddenly got a lot more urgent." Jack broke into a run as soon they reached the lawn, and Dumbledore was hard-pressed to keep up. In fact, by the time Jack reached Hagrid's Hut the old man was a fair distance behind.

He glanced at his wrist strap, and followed Ianto's tracking signal into the edge of the forest. It quickly became obvious that there were three humanoid figures lying on the ground, and Dumbledore was now catching up to him as well.

Jack swept down next to the smallest of the three- wearing Hufflepuff robes, and quite obviously Ianto- and rolled him over.

He had just checked Ianto's pulse and confirmed that he was still alive when Dumbledore reached them and checked on the other two. Harry Potter and Viktor Krum. "Stunned." Dumbledore said quietly.

The old man stared out into the forest for only a second, then turned and aimed his wand back the way they came. A flare of silver light darted off around the cabin and out of sight. Jack wasn't sure what it was, but he had his own wand out now as well, and was scanning the forest with his wrist strap, to see if there was anything there.

The only signs of life he could detect were very distant, and not an immediate threat.

He only looked back to Dumbledore when he heard the word, "Rennervate."

He saw Harry's eyes flicker slowly open, blinking in confusion. "What- what happened?"

"That an easy spell?" Jack asked. Dumbledore nodded curtly, and Jack immediately mimicked it. "Rennervate."

Ianto sat up very suddenly, looking around for danger. When he saw Jack he relaxed a little, leaning against him. "Damnit." he muttered darkly, "Something hit Harry. I saw movement, but it was too fast." His gaze settled on Dumbledore, who was now kneeling over Krum, "Guess they got Krum, too."

Jack chuckled, "They evaluated the threat pretty well, if you ask me." Jack picked up the wand that had been lying next to Ianto and handed it to him, "Krum was unarmed."

Dumbledore gave Jack a calculating look, before once more casting, "Rennervate." Krum woke up slowly, and Jack guessed he had somehow done it wrong on Ianto to have gotten such a relatively violent reaction when waking him.

As soon as he saw Dumbledore, Krum sat up quickly, "There vas a man. A short man vith a hooded cloak. He attacked us!"

"Where's Crouch?" Harry asked, confused.

Dumbledore had only just opened his mouth to ask what Harry meant, when the ground shook and the loud footfalls of Professor Hagrid boomed their way. "Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid said, with such obedience that Jack imagined the half-giant really ought to stand to attention and salute. Then he faltered, "Harry? What the-?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff." Dumbledore commanded calmly, "His student has been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody-"

"No need, Dumbledore." Moody's voice growled from nearby, "I'm here." Once more he displayed surprising stealth, sneaking up on them until he was within easy speaking distance, and only _now_ did his wooden leg clunk as it hit the ground. "Damn leg. Would've been here quicker... what's happened? Snape said something about the forest?"

While Hagrid turned and headed off to fetch Karkaroff, Jack's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Snape didn't hear a word about it."

"Yeah he did." Moody answered very quickly, "Those Weasley boys told him it was an urgent message for Professor Dumbledore."

Jack met Moody's gaze with all the impudent distrust he could muster, and held it for a moment... but the creepy blue fake-eye made it _very_ difficult to win that kind of staring contest, and Jack looked away first.

"Crouch was here." Harry began to explain, looking right at Dumbledore, "Said he wanted to warn you. Said he'd done something terrible. He mentioned his son... and Bertha Jorkins... and- and Voldemort. Something about Voldemort getting stronger... and that I was in danger. He wasn't acting normally, like he didn't seem to know where he was. He kept talking like he thought Percy Weasley was there, and then he changed and said he needed to see you. That's when..." Harry looked at Ianto, unsure if he should explain.

"That's when I asked Jack to fetch you." Ianto said. It was perfectly honest, but seemed to more strongly imply that Jack had been there with them.

Moody's magical eye was not leaving Jack, now... even as the rest of him faced Dumbledore and Harry. It was a degree of suspicion that made Jack feel exposed, like Moody knew Ianto's economy with the truth was just that.

Dumbledore, for his part, seemed to wholly trust Moody, "I don't know where Barty Crouch is, but it is essential that we find him." he commanded.

"I'm onto it." Moody answered with a curt nod, pulling out his wand and limping away. Jack listened very intently to the loud clunk with every step... and was sure it faded away far too soon.

"I don't like him." he said bluntly. Dumbledore and Harry both gave Jack disapproving looks. "What? I'm serious! I don't trust him!"

"Alastor Moody is a very old and very good friend of mine, Mr Harkness." Dumbledore said in a calming tone.

"Mmhm, that's really going to make me like him." Jack muttered sarcastically... only to be elbowed sharply in the stomach, by Ianto. Jack gave Ianto a dark look, then stood up suddenly and walked off after Moody.

"Jack, get back here!" Ianto yelled.

"Mr Harkness!" Dumbledore called as well.

Jack ignored them both, and kept walking.

x x x


	40. Animagism

x x x

**Chapter 40: Animagism**

x x x

The brat was following him. Not for the first time, Barty was grateful for the magical eye he had taken from Moody. Seeing through walls... trees, the back of his head... women's clothing. Yes, it was _very_ useful.

And right now, through trees. That Harkness boy thought he was being sneaky, too.

Suspicious brat.

Had to be made an example of. Yes, indeed.

But not violently. Kill and make a martyr. Maim and make a war hero. Humiliate and make irrelevant. The subterfuge must be maintained, just a little longer. The game must go on.

Boy didn't trust him? Prove beyond all reasonable doubt that he was perfectly trustworthy in the highest regard. That would be _easy!_

Barty paused to take a swig of that foul potion, glancing edgily through the trees with his (only one?) normal eye. Still so wrong, even after eight months of the damned potion. Foul stuff, tasted like Mudblood! Yes, he'd bitten one before... when they'd thrown him in jail.

Filthy, rotten, vile!

He looked around for a moment. Kid was hiding behind a tree, far enough behind him that anyone without the magic eye wouldn't have spotted him.

Crafty little devil. Very crafty.

But Barty was smarter.

He took a pretty standard search pattern, like the _real_ Moody might do... led the boy on a merry chase for the next hour or so.

Then '_stumbled_' across the body he himself had left laying in the woods. So '_accidentally_'.

Searched the area for '_clues_'. No clues, of course, he hadn't left any. But the search was impressive. Worthy of the Mad Eye he was wearing.

Evidence of the Imperius curse? So what, no evidence of who. Dead now, too. Dead men tell no tales, he'd heard. Was true, wasn't it?

He hefted the corpse up over his shoulder and began the tedious trudge back to the castle.

The boy followed him up to the edge of the forest... then vanished. No point looking for him now, he'd seen all he needed to. Evidence, proof positive that Crouch was Moody and Moody was a goody-goody.

All according to plan.

x x x

"I still don't like him." Jack declared loudly and angrily, to anyone who would listen, as he stormed into the Slytherin dormitories.

"Who?" Draco asked, idly looking up.

Jack paused, not answering immediately as he scowled past Draco, at Crabbe and Goyle who were chuckling inanely and making '**SUPPORT JACK HARKNESS**' badges flash up the words '**POTTER STINKS**'. So Draco hadn't eliminated all of the offensive ones, it seemed. Didn't really matter, anyway. The ones the Ravenclaws and Jack's own classmates had didn't do that, and he honestly didn't care either way.

"Moody." Jack grumbled darkly, slumping into a chair near the fireplace.

Draco snorted darkly, "Join the club."

"There's a club? Really?" Jack asked, somewhere quite directly between serous enquiry and sardonic humour.

"Well..." Draco said, clearly unsure how to take that question, "There's two of us now. And probably Snape, as well."

"Ha." Jack laughed, "I need to develop a proper network of spies. I swear he knew I was stalking him."

Draco slowly put down the book he had been reading, turning his full attention to Jack once more. Several other students were paying attention now as well, "And why, precisely, were you stalking our defence teacher?" Draco asked, not sure he even wanted to hear the reason.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time." Jack said with a dismissive shrug.

Draco slowly shook his head, "Sometimes I don't know why I bother talking to you."

Jack laughed at that, "Aw, you know you love me really, Draco."

x x x

'_I saw you talking to Bagman._  
><em>You're good, I'll give you<em>  
><em> that. Meet me down behind<em>  
><em> the Quidditch pitch at noon<em>  
><em> tomorrow.<em>'

Jack received the note scratched out on old parchment and delivered by one of the rattiest little barn owls he had ever laid eyes upon, only two days after Crouch had been found dead.

He honestly couldn't resist.

So it was that at noon the next day all five members of the Torchwood team were waiting down by the Quidditch pitch. However, if any of them had expected it to be Skeeter- and by the handwriting and owl, Jack had _not_- they were to be disappointed.

"You're a clever little gang, you lot." Sirius Black really was good at the stealth, having snuck up to within five feet of the group without any of them noticing him.

Owen and Gwen had their wands drawn and aimed at him in an instant. Tosh jumped a little in shock, spinning around quickly to face him, also defensive but unarmed. Jack and Ianto on the other hand appeared neither surprised nor bothered by his presence.

"You could get caught, you know." Ianto said casually.

"Bah, hasn't happened yet." Sirius dismissed casually, "And I've been in and out of the grounds all year."

Gwen lowered her wand gradually, "Gryffindor, I take it?"

"How ever did you guess?" Sirius joked.

"We're all reckless bastards." Owen cheered, also lowering his wand. Sirius let out a bark of appreciative laughter.

"That doesn't explain Jack." Ianto deadpanned, earning a bemused half-glare from Jack himself.

"Nothing can ever explain Jack." Owen retorted, grinning.

At this, Jack just shrugged, "You contacted us. Why?" he asked Sirius carefully.

"Well I've been watching the tournament- from a safe distance, of course- and I couldn't help but overhear you talking to Harry as well."

"How the hell did you do all this spying without getting seen?" Owen demanded.

"I have my ways." Sirius said, trying to sound sly and evasive.

Which was utterly ruined by Ianto explaining bluntly, "He's an Animagus."

"A what?" Gwen asked, confused.

Sirius rolled his eyes, exasperated, "Thanks a lot, kid. Bloody hell, I only go and save your life, and you just _tell_ everyone."

Ianto was the perfect picture of innocence, as he pointed out, "I only told four people, all of whom I would trust with my life."

"Yeah, well I don't much appreciate you trusting them with mine, too." Sirius sulked a little.

"What's an Animagus?" Gwen repeated.

Sirius sighed melodramatically, "It's a witch or wizard who can turn into an animal at will. No wand, or anything." And suddenly where he had been standing was a particularly large black dog, almost but not entirely unlike the Grim they had found in the Chamber of Secrets. An instant later, Sirius was himself again, "Like that."

"Any animal?" Tosh asked, curiously.

"Each Animagus only gets one. It matches their personality." Sirius said with a shrug.

"Dogs are terminally loyal." Jack said, with a slight tilt of his head, "Pack-animals, vicious to their enemies and slobbering saps to those they love. They also have a tendency to hump the furniture."

Sirius snorted indignantly, "I am not a sap!"

"But humping the furniture, you don't deny." Owen observed, grinning. Sirius just shrugged.

"Back to the point...?" Jack asked sharply, "You were using your Animagism to spy on me?"

"Well, sort of. I heard what you said to Harry, as well as Bagman." Sirius said, suddenly pretending to take this seriously, "I can tell you kids really know what you're doing. More than we did at your age, at any rate."

"We?" Gwen asked.

"No more diversions." Jack said, holding a hand up to her, "Spurious questions later, please." Gwen frowned, and sulked a little.

Sirius grinned vaguely at that, an odd look that held both positive memories and deep regret. "Right. My point. Er, well, I know I had one." he hesitated for a moment, then nodded, "Yeah, whoever's after Harry only has one more task to get through, right?" They all nodded slowly, "And odds are they'll be hiding, biding their time until then, right?" More nods. "So... I say when the task rolls around is when we need to watch everyone. And I have these."

He held out his right hand to show what looked like a fistful of marbles, "They're spy-balls. Plant one on a person and you can remote-view them. Can't hear a damned thing, but you can see what they're up to. If the person sets them down they don't work, though. Keeping it in their clothes is fine, but more than a foot away and they're worthless."

"Where'd you get those?" Tosh asked, fascinated, as she picked one up. Sirius tapped it with a finger as she held it, and then held up a mirror in his hand. A perfect image of Tosh staring at the marble appeared in the mirror... even though it wasn't aimed the right way to catch that image naturally. "Oh, that's just creepy." she murmured.

"I want one." Jack said, fascinated.

Owen coughed something that sounded distinctly like 'contact lenses'.

"I'm giving you the lot." Sirius said bluntly, "But I keep the mirror. I've already given one to Harry so I can make sure he's okay... not that he knows I did that, but it's for his own good. The rest of these, you can give to whoever you think might be a suspect. I want one on Karkaroff and one on Snape, but I'll take your word on the rest."

Jack looked up at Sirius, very sceptically, "Snape? Really?"

Sirius just stared down at him, "You do not want to ask that."

Jack raised an eyebrow, almost challenging... but didn't actually retort. Instead, "We'll see what we can do."

"Hmm, let's see." Tosh said, taking all the spy-balls and counting them, "Bagman, Karkaroff, Moody, Snape I guess. Krum and Fleur, just to have more eyes in the maze. Jack, you wear one in the maze, as well."

"Just don't expect me to carry it around any other time, with the voyeur-dog watching." he remarked, grinning.

"Aww, don't trust me, Jack?" Sirius joked.

"Don't want to scar you for life." Jack replied evenly.

"Tosh, do we have a spare commlink?" Gwen asked.

Tosh jumped excitedly at this thought, "Yes, we do." she quickly scrambled in her pocket and pulled out an earpiece, "Here." she handed it to Sirius, "This way we can tell you if someone's being suspicious so you can watch, and likewise you can tell us if you see anything on the mirror we ought to know about."

Sirius looked at the earpiece dubiously, and Tosh quickly demonstrated with her own earpiece how it worked, including which frequency it needed to be set to so that he could contact Torchwood at any time, but wasn't on their main comms channel. Nor would he hear or be heard by the Weasley twins.

"This is Muggle." Sirius said, confused.

"Well, sort of." Tosh said vaguely. It was more alien, and definitely from the future, but in no way was it magical.

"But it's working." Sirius said blankly, still a bit confused, "We're in Hogwarts and something Muggle is working? That's amazing!"

"Thank you." Tosh said, positively beaming.

"I think I underestimated you lot. You're not just good, you're bloody dangerous." Sirius said, giving each one a look that was equal parts calculating and admiring, "Glad we're on the same side."

x x x

Each member of the Torchwood team had taken a few of the spy-balls to plant on unwitting targets. Moody, they expected to be by far the hardest one- if not outright impossible- to deal with.

Ianto got Karkaroff rather easily, with idle- and if Karkaroff's reaction was anything to go by, infuriating- questions, and a levitation spell while Karkaroff was too busy telling him to get lost to watch what he was actually doing. Jack got Viktor and Fleur rather easily, using a similar though significantly less annoying method.

Bagman failed to show up at Hogwarts, and so they had to bide their time on him.

But in light of a newly arisen enemy, Gwen made a bit of a snap judgement a week before the final task.

"Miss Skeeter! Miss Skeeter!" she called, jogging across the grounds to where the woman herself was snooping around near the maze.

Rita turned to look at her, a little wide-eyed but quickly regaining her composure, "Yes, dear?"

Gwen was a little out of breath as she stopped, and took a few second to recover, "I've been reading your work all year, and I just wanted to say what a big difference it's made to me." she said in her best gushing fangirl impersonation. It probably wasn't that great- it did go against Gwen's basic nature- but Skeeter fell for it.

"Oh yes? Do go on." she simpered.

"What you wrote in Witch Weekly, about Harry Potter, was truly insightful." Gwen continued quickly, sidling up a bit closer and doing that thing with her eyes that Owen called her anime look.

She knew this particular expression was highly unsettling to others, and it certainly kept Skeeter from looking anywhere but at her eyes, as she pulled a spy-ball from her pocket and palmed it carefully.

"And I was wondering, if it'd be alright with you, Miss Skeeter..." she continued, feigning shyness now, as well.

"Yes, yes, what is it, girl?" Skeeter asked a bit too quickly, and clearly on-edge. Gwen actually wasn't blinking.

"Could I please have your autograph?" Gwen blurted out, forcing back the bile in her throat at the very idea.

Skeeter blinked, then nodded quickly, "Of course you can, dear. Just a tick."

She turned around to root through her satchel, and Gwen took the opportunity to slip the spy-ball into Skeeter's robes.

A moment later Skeeter turned back, completely oblivious, and holding a piece of parchment and a quill, "Who shall I make it out to, then?"

"Oh, to Jack Harkness." Gwen said brightly. Skeeter stared. "He's a friend of mine, and he loves your work." Which was technically true, in a sadistic level. He did take a certain unholy glee in insulting Skeeter's writing.

It took all of five seconds for Skeeter to pull herself together, and finally shut her mouth from the stunned gaping. "Well, I don't see why not, of course."

She scribbled illegibly on the parchment and handed it briskly to Gwen, who grinned, "Thanks."

And Gwen was off like a shot back to the castle.

Once inside the entrance hall, she checked to make sure that she was alone, and then tapped her comms, "Hey, dog-breath, can you hear me?" she whispered.

"Loving the nickname. Loud and clear." Sirius answered.

"Can you see Skeeter?" Gwen whispered.

"No. I can't." he answered, "I can see you, from the ceiling, though."

Gwen looked up sharply, but didn't see anyone there.

"Which is all kinds of wrong, because these things only work when attached to a human, and there's no human up there that I can see."

"Wonderful." Gwen sulked in a whisper, "Where's Jack?"

"Library. Talking to the dead, by the looks of it."

Gwen immediately started heading up the steps to the Library.

x x x

Jack was alone in the invisibility section of the library. For the most part, he was minding his own business, just reading up on advanced Transfiguration, and Animagism. It sounded like fun, and he was curious, even if it was his worst subject in school.

He was currently filling in one of those strange survey-type questionnaires you usually find in women's magazines, that profiles your personality. He had found it folded into one of the books, and it was titled '_What Is Your Animal Form?_'

It contained all sorts of personal question, ranging from favourite colour and magical subject, to '_what would you do if-_' questions that bordered on deep psychological profiling. He ticked the box to answer the final question, and the blank space at the bottom magically filled in with the word '_Tiger_'.

"Cute." he muttered to himself, grinning faintly.

The questionnaire magically went blank, waiting for the next person to fill it in. Jack carefully put it away and turned to the next page in the book.

"I am impressed." the familiar, hoarse voice of the Bloody Baron said from right next to Jack. He looked up, but didn't startle at all.

Setting the book down slowly, he turned to face the Baron, "Hello again, My Lord."

"You have done well, young one." the Baron said calmly. Unlike almost anyone else who might dare call him that, the Baron was about a thousand years old and therefore really had earned the right, so Jack didn't bristle at it. "The students of House Ravenclaw appear to have accepted you as a friend. For the most part."

Jack was a bit surprised by this.

He really hadn't been trying to work on the Baron's request to befriend Ravenclaws. He had been a bit preoccupied with the Triwizard Tournament, the conspiracy against Harry Potter, and of course homework, to have given it much thought. But now that he did think about it, the Ravenclaws at Tosh's computer club had been a lot nicer to him recently.

"So what now?" he asked.

"Now I ask that you learn the history of the school." the Baron commanded ominously, "And learn it for yourself, I shall not play tutor to you. When you are ready, you will know, and seek me out."

Jack frowned slightly- it seemed almost too easy- but nodded in acceptance of this new task. It couldn't be that difficult... he'd just borrow one of Ianto's books and be done by the end of the week, surely.

The Baron nodded his head slightly to Jack, and then silently turned and floated away through the stands of books. Much to Madam Pince's annoyance.

"It's following you." Sirius Black's voice sounded over the commlink in Jack's ear, "And it's definitely separate from the ones still in your pocket. But I don't see anyone. Flying and invisibility isn't exactly an easy combination, y'know, unless you're an undead horse."

"Thestrals aren't undead." Gwen muttered in a hushed whisper, "And shh."

"She can't hear _me_, can she? Just don't look like you're talking to yourself and you'll be cool." Sirius said vaguely.

"What's going on, guys?" Jack asked, tapping his own comm.

"Your friend planted a spy-ball on Skeeter, who is now stalking her in turn. This reminds me of that time in fifth year, with Snivellus and Peter in the dungeons, and I got to watch on the map."

"Who and who on the what?" Owen asked, interrupting.

"Snape and the rat, on a map that shows where everyone is in Hogwarts."

"Well that's useful, where's this map now?" Owen asked.

"Harry has it."

"Damnit."

"Boys." Jack said vaguely, "The spy?"

"The _other_ spy, you mean." Owen grumbled.

Jack looked up as Gwen hurried into the Library. "Here they come... Fido, keep talking."

"You're gonna go through every popular dog-name ever, aren't you?" Sirius grumbled, sounding not at all put out by this as Gwen sat next to Jack.

"Hey, you'll never guess who I saw down by the Quidditch pitch!" Gwen cheered. Or pretended to, but it was convincing, "Rita Skeeter. _And_ I got you an autograph."

She handed the parchment to Jack, who took it, laughing, "Ah, this can go in the scrapbook with all the newspaper cut-outs." he joked, pocketing it, "Hey, guess who I saw making out down by the lake last night."

Gwen stared blankly at him for a second.

"Oh, I see where this is going... and I like it." Sirius remarked over the commlink. Jack could literally hear the grin in his voice.

"Who?" Gwen asked warily.

"Karkaroff and Maxime. With each other." Jack said, maintaining a perfectly serious facade.

"Aww, shoulda said Snape..." Sirius muttered.

"She's already got a homosexuality at Hogwarts story, it needs to be something new, doesn't it?" Owen pointed out.

x x x

Half an hour of entirely fictitious gossip later, and Sirius finally informed them that the spy-ball Gwen had planted on Skeeter had left the building.

Sure enough, the very next day several especially strange articles were printed in the Daily Prophet. These included but were not limited to Harry Potter having a crush on Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore offering sherbet lemons spiked with illegal study-aid potions to the Gryffindor students, and the ghost of Barty Crouch being sighted walking the halls of Hogwarts at night.

Two days later, a retraction was issued and Rita Skeeter was fired.

Strangely, Dumbledore was never seen to offer anyone a sherbet lemon after that, either.

x x x


	41. And So It Begins

**Author's Note**: Many thanks to Queen Farli for a certain plotline that appears here... ;) I'm very sorry to say it was toned down from the original, but I did my best.

x x x

**Chapter 41: And So It Begins**

x x x

As it was nearing the end of the school year, everyone in second year was expected to choose two new subjects to take during their third year.

A list of potential subjects, and leaflets on the practical applications and benefits of each new class were made available in the common rooms. As were careers advice sessions with the Heads of Houses.

Tosh was the only one of them who took the careers advice seriously.

Gwen had casually gone for the toughest possible option (Auror, basically a magical equivalent of the police). Owen has immediately jumped on magical medicine, and nothing McGonagall could say could persuade him that with his barely passing grade in charms it just wasn't likely to work out.

Ianto had muttered something about the Torchwood archives, and that he was already fully qualified for any desk job ever. Interestingly, Madam Sprout seemed to agree, being of the opinion that paper-pushing in the Ministry of Magic was something even a Squib could do with minimal training. Upon hearing this, Owen promptly commented that even a trained ape could therefore also do it. Ianto retaliated by offering Owen the job.

Jack hadn't even shown up for his career advice session.

Snape found him down by the lake, practicing curses with the rest of the team. Half of Ravenclaw house, most of the Slytherin second-and-third years, and the Hufflepuff Quidditch team were gathered nearby, suggesting spells and debating tactics. Those not present for the last-minute training session were either not on good terms with Jack (a group which included the remainder of Slytherin house), or backing Harry Potter to win.

Or in Ron Weasley's case, both.

Snape took about two minutes weaving his way through the crowd, who for once didn't even notice his usually-intimidating presence amongst them. "Mr Harkness, I believe we had an appointment an hour ago?"

That caused the few remaining students within arm's reach of Snape to back off quickly.

Jack looked up idly, "I'm busy, Professor." He turned back to his book, re-read the spell there, and then waved his wand at Owen, "Depulso."

Owen went flying backwards, splashing down into the shallows of the lake. Jack grinned proudly.

Snape gritted his teeth in anger, "While I am aware of the importance that you be prepared for the final task of the tournament tomorrow- and I most certainly shall not protest your choice of target-practice-" Owen snorted indignantly at this. "-You must still consider your future career, and this meeting is of significant importance."

Jack didn't answer immediately. Instead, "Depulso." with another swish of his wand, Owen was sent soaring out much further over the lake than the previous spell... where he fell, spluttering and splashing madly. "I do understand, Professor, but I already know what I want to do when I leave Hogwarts."

Snape looked very sceptical, "And that would be?"

"Get really drunk, steal a traffic cone, and run through Diagon Alley naked." Jack answered with perfectly straight face.

Mutterings in the background of, "What's a traffic cone?" and, "Think it's a Muggle thing." could be heard.

Suddenly a tentacle flew out of the lake and swatted at Owen. Owen scrambled out of the water doubly fast this time.

"Careful, Owen. I think he likes you." Tosh teased.

Owen eyed Tosh sceptically, "And how would _you_ know the gender of the Giant Squid?" There was a blatant tone of insinuation in his voice as he said that.

Ianto raised an eyebrow, "You mean you _don't_ know what happened to Dennis Creevey at the start of the school year?"

Jack, Tosh and Gwen all started laughing at this, while Owen pulled a disgusted face. "Creevey? Eww!" Owen cried, horrified, "That poor squid!"

Snape spluttered indignantly, "Fifty points each from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw!" he snapped, pointing at Tosh and Ianto. That stopped the laughing. Then he turned on Owen, "And you, fifty points from Gryffindor, and detention!"

Jack coughed pointedly, "Actually, Professor, I believe I was the one who threw Owen at the Squid." Snape gave him a 'so what?' look, and Jack continued, "Shouldn't I be the one losing points, instead, since I started it?"

The babbling crowd suddenly hushed, awed.

A Slytherin had just talked back to Snape about taking points away from the _other_ three houses? It was completely unheard of.

Snape stared in shock. His left eye twitched. He shook his head slightly.

Jack mentally pictured a Terminator-style digital readout going through Snape's head;

**POSSIBLE RESPONSE:**  
><strong>WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?<strong>  
><strong>DETENTION!<strong>  
><strong>I DON'T UNDERSTAND...<strong>  
><strong>FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE.<strong>

He bit his lip so as not to laugh, as Snape's eye twitched again.

The whole crowd held its collective breath.

Snape's whole body twitched violently as if he wanted to physically strike Jack but only just resisted the urge. Then through gritted teeth he snapped, "Fifty points from Slytherin!" and he turned and stormed off in a venomous sulk.

Everybody watched in deathly silence, until he had stalked all the way back up the path, through the front doors of the school, and slammed said doors behind him.

Then as one they all fell into fits of hysterical laughter and/or started chattering excitedly about what had just happened. Even the Slytherins although their shocked admiration at Jack's nerve was somewhat tainted by the fact he did lose the points.

Jack smirked faintly, ignoring the hubbub around them and simply turned to the rest of the team, "So which classes are the rest of you taking next year?" he asked casually. They all grinned at each other as well, but then one by one they shrugged and dismissed the major incident.

Jack smiled at how easily they all did that. He was a good influence on them... although others might consider it a bad influence.

It was Tosh who answered first, "I've already signed up for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"I hear Divination's an easy pass." Owen put in, "All you have to do is make up a few portents of doom, and you're all set."

"Ah, portents of doom. How are we feeling about demons in January oh-eight?" Jack asked, smirking. None of the others found it that funny.

"It's more about the minor things, from what I hear. Like being betrayed by friends and all." Owen said, far-too-idly, "Same date does work, mind you."

Gwen cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably at this reminder, "I'm for Divination, as well. And I want Muggle Studies. See what the wizarding world makes of the rest of us."

"Didn't you already buy a book about that?" Owen asked, confused, "You need a class, as well?"

Gwen gave him a blank stare, "Easy pass." she explained bluntly.

Owen nodded, "Fair point."

Jack shrugged idly, "I think Care of Magical Creatures sounds fun. Draco got mauled by a Hippogriff, in his first lesson."

They all stared at him. "You honestly think that's a good reason to take the class, don't you?" Ianto asked, more than a little bit awed.

Jack feigned confusion, "You think it isn't?"

Ianto sulked a little, "I'm taking Ancient Runes, instead." he retorted. Owen yawned pointedly at this. Sure, he had been perfectly friendly when Tosh has said she was taking exactly the same class, but for Ianto insulting gestures were deemed necessary.

Still, "For once, Owen, I completely agree. Sounds worse than History of Magic, to me."

"At least it doesn't sound like a good way to lose an arm." Ianto retorted sharply, before raising one eyebrow sharply and adding, "Or other valuable limbs."

Owen chuckled, "Well I'm taking Magical Creatures. I reckon someone needs to be on hand to patch you up, so you don't die in front of everyone, or something equally drastic."

"Yes, because there's no way of that happening tomorrow." Ianto muttered darkly.

Jack gave him a genuinely concerned look, now... and Ianto did meet his eyes for half a second before sulkily turning away. Jack shrugged and shoved his way past Owen.

The rest of the crowd parted, allowing him to pass while still chattering about what he had said to Snape.

x x x

Sure enough, Ianto followed Jack up to the room on the seventh floor.

It was just as they had left it. It always was, never so much as a spec of dust changed from one visit to the next.

"I don't want you to go tomorrow." Ianto said bluntly, as soon as he closed the door behind him.

Jack had been sitting casually on the couch, waiting for him. He looked up with a frown, "I don't have much choice. Binding magical contract."

"Fuck the magical contract!" Ianto snapped darkly, stepping forward almost aggressively, "And I don't even care if you take that literally, so long as you find a way to get out of this task tomorrow!"

Jack's usual bravado faded in the face of an upset Ianto Jones, and he quickly stood up, pulling Ianto into a hug. "Why not?" he asked gently. Not in the slightest bit confrontational about it any more.

"I have a really bad feeling about it, Jack. I mean... I- I'm not sure." Ianto shook his head, before resting it on Jack's shoulder, "I think I heard about this tournament, and something bad happened. But I was only twelve and nobody told me exactly what it was. I do remember my father seemed really upset about it, suddenly got really overprotective and warned me off going anywhere near magical places."

Ianto shook his head as if trying to remember why this bothered him so much, and Jack was beginning to get worried. Whatever was going to happen really was serious, but Ianto just couldn't remember why.

"Just please, Jack, don't go."

Jack pulled him down onto the couch, so they were both sitting, leaning against the far-too-soft cushions there. Jack ran his fingers through Ianto's hair and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "What am I supposed to do, feign illness? Because I've read the rules, and unless I am actually clinically dead at the beginning of the task I'm not allowed to skip out on it."

Ianto sniffed and clung to him more determinedly, "Owen could make a Draught of Living Death?" he suggested, with a sulky sort of determination.

"In twenty-four hours?" Jack asked, pulling back from the hug and shaking his head, "No. Look, I promise I'll be careful tomorrow." he insisted, his hands on Ianto's shoulders, staring at him with complete seriousness. He really meant this, it wasn't just a platitude. "And besides, Tosh fixed my wrist strap to scan for magic, so I've got an advantage over the other three. If I'm lucky I'll be able to avoid anything dangerous at all, there's bound to be _one_ safe path through the maze."

Ianto sighed, "I just can't help but feel like I'm forgetting something _really_ important here. I know something bad _will_ happen. I'm sure of that much."

"Maybe it'll happen to Snape? Or better yet, Moody." Jack said with a dark grin, "I really hate that guy."

"I still don't know _why_ you don't like him." Ianto said, shaking his head and laughing weakly, "But I hope you're right."

"Hey, I'm Mr Right." Jack said, laughing, "Isn't that why you're with me? Even if my first name is Always."

Ianto snorted weakly, shaking his head at the pathetic joke. "Oh, please shut up." he said weakly, before lunging forward and very effectively silencing Jack with a kiss.

x x x

"You're running third. That's not a good thing." Gwen observed, as the five of them walked down towards the maze the next morning.

Jack had an arm around Ianto as they walked. It was such a blatant 'hey, look at us, we're a couple' statement that most of the crowd did turn to stare as they passed. Ron Weasley actually yelled out "Hufflepoof!" and was promptly tripped up by Hermione Granger, so as to land face-first in the dewy grass.

Ianto bristled irritably, but then shot a grateful smile at Hermione before the other Gryffindors swept her along ahead of them.

"It's not over until the Fat Lady sings." Owen pointed out, grinning, "And even then, it's only over because she could break your eardrums. You've never met our common room portrait, have you, Jack?"

Jack shook his head, smirking. "It just gives the other boys a head-start. I'm up to that challenge."

"I bet." Owen snarked.

"You got a problem, Owen?" Jack asked, grinning.

"You could get yourself killed. Publicly." Owen answered immediately.

Jack just shook his head and didn't deign to respond, instead pulling Ianto that little bit closer and walking that little bit faster so as to leave Owen behind.

x x x

Harry had the head start, getting into the maze first. Jack stood back and watched as Viktor followed him a minute later.

Then it was his turn.

On the whistle, he ran on into the maze, stopping only when he turned a corner and the world went silent. The crowd noise was gone... he was alone, surrounded by darkened and high hedges. It was quite intimidating... but Jack had seen creepier.

He slowed to a walk, now wary of his surroundings, as he continued in the general direction he hoped led to the centre of the maze.

He checked his wrist strap carefully, and saw several signs of magical signatures all around him. Two read as humanoid, and he quickly tapped a few buttons to record them as Harry and Viktor- having made a note of which one went which way, he was pretty sure he assigned the right name to the right energy reading.

And anyway, one was physically bigger while the other radiated a much higher level of energy.

The path he followed was clear until after the second turn. Then it branched off in three different directions.

Checking the wrist strap showed that one way led to what was marked as a '_barrier spell; counter with Finite Incantatem_'. Another led to '_unknown enchantment_'. Down the third path something moved in his direction... something labelled '_Blast-Ended Skrewt; RUN AWAY!_'

Jack quickly headed for the barrier spell, drawing his wand and casting, "Finite Incantatem." as soon as he saw the spell ahead. He didn't miss a beat, turning back as soon as he had passed through where the barrier had been, "Protego Totalus." It wasn't as powerful as the spell he had just broken, but it might hold back the monster.

He quickly turned and hurried on. The path remained clear for another few turns, and with the aid of the wrist strap he was easily able to choose the best route to take. The number of '_unknown enchantment_'s on the neighbouring and crossing paths was unnerving. He decided that he and Tosh really needed to work on the wrist strap's repertoire, when this was over.

But at least he had been right in his guess that there was always a path to take that didn't go through the spells.

Unfortunately, just as he thought he had begun to make some real progress, he came to a fork in the maze. One path led to yet another '_unknown enchantment_'. No way around it, this time, without some serious backtracking. The only other path led to an '_unknown entity_', and that ranked as worse in Jack's opinion. He went for the enchantment, and decided to test it.

"Revelio." The spell glowed visibly, covering the entire path... but while this did show him _where_ the spell was, it didn't show him _what _ it was. "Finite Incantatem." Nothing happened. "Aww, damn."

He checked his wrist strap once more, to see if he had missed anything. Now, not only was the path ahead blocked by this enchantment, but that '_unknown entity_' had moved to block his retreat.

He turned around to look behind him. He couldn't see it yet. Whatever it was, it was lurking just around the corner.

He had two choices.

Dive into the enchantment and hope not to be disfigured. Very Bad Idea.

Or, go back and confront the creature.

It wasn't a Blast-Ended Skrewt, which did at least make him feel slightly better about that plan. How bad could it be, really?

Cautiously, he approached the corner, listening carefully. Whatever it was made no sound. Not a ravenous beast, then... although he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Jack steadied himself, took a deep breath and focused... and then turned the corner, wand out and ready to fight whatever may appear there.

x x x


	42. Riddle Me This

x x x

**Chapter 42: Riddle Me This**

x x x

Jack steadied himself, took a deep breath and focused... and then turned the corner, wand out and ready to fight whatever may appear there.

But then he stopped, startled, when he saw a familiar face. Jack's _own _ face.

The man before him smirked, the creepy smile you see on evil overlords in movies... and the Master. "Hello again, my Captain."

Jack bit his tongue to avoid the instinct to laugh in near-hysterical relief that it wasn't a real threat. Certainly, his Boggart did still frighten him on principle, but in comparison to the rest of this maze it counted as a friendly face. "Are you the same Boggart?" he asked it, "The one I met last year?"

It nodded slowly, "The Headmaster... 'volunteered' me for this little children's game. Demeaning, isn't it?"

Jack nodded in agreement. Normally he would find those words funny, but the man speaking them was unnerving enough to quell that thought. After a second, however, a much more relevant thought occurred to him, "How long have you been here? You must know your way around this maze?"

The Boggart seemed to consider this for a moment, eyes drifting off to one side in thought, then it nodded, "Long enough, yes."

"So you could show me the best way to get to the Cup?" he insisted.

It smiled, a dark and disturbing smile, "But of course, my Captain." it moved closer to him, and Jack shivered as it placed a hand on the side of his face, almost lovingly, "It would be my pleasure."

Jack smiled coldly at it, "No time like the present. Show me the way." he said, with a wave of his hand he gestured for the Boggart to take the lead.

"You're being so commanding, today." it all-but purred, in a sultry tone, "I like it." It turned and sauntered down the path as if it really thought it owned the place. Jack frowned slightly, trying to figure out the best way of dealing with this creature... then ran to catch up with it before it turned a corner.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked.

"Perhaps I just enjoy the intelligent conversation?" it suggested, seeming amused, as it stopped and looked both ways at a cross-roads in the maze.

"No... there's more to it than that. I can tell."

"Of course you can." the Boggart said, rolling its eyes and smirking slightly, "You can read me like you read yourself. Alright, I'll admit it. I like your fear, it's... highly unusual. And I was serious about the intelligent conversation, too... I despise being seen as a mindless beast, simply because my ability to communicate is limited by the minds of others." It glanced behind them for a moment, then pointed left, "This way, I think." and it began to walk in that direction rather quickly.

Jack hurried to keep up, getting the impression it had glanced behind for a reason, "How intelligent are you, exactly?" he asked, curiously.

"Terrifyingly intelligent."

"You know it's hazardous to your health to display a sense of humour." Jack pointed out in a deadpan tone.

"But you have one... even your darkest side revels in it." the Boggart observed, "I've seen it in your memories, laughing at your victims as they suffer and beg you for mercy."

Jack frowned, not liking that part of his past to be mentioned, even if they were alone. "How come laughter hurts you, but you're able to laugh yourself?" he continued, as they turned another corner into an empty pathway. It was quiet here... almost too quiet.

"There's a certain resonance in human laughter- and only _human_ laughter- not even audible to most beings." he glanced at Jack, smirking as he added, "It comforts humans on a subconscious level, while harming my kind. Which is also why inhuman laughter creeps you out, even when it sounds the same. As I'm not human, my laughter is lacking that particular frequency. Specific enough?"

Jack nodded, but then looked around, "Is it just because you're here... or did this pathway suddenly get creepier?"

The Boggart also looked around with a frown, and when it spoke it was with a hushed whisper, "There is something sentient nearby... it's crying in terror, but I can't see it."

Jack scanned the deserted pathway before him carefully, now. He didn't try anything that might draw attention to the fact he was alert for danger- the logical one being casting the Lumos spell- instead he listened and waited. He heard the snapping of a twig underfoot behind him, and turned quickly... but not quickly enough.

As soon as he turned his back on it, he heard the Boggart retreating, stumbling and gasping in shock. At the same instant, he heard a shaky voice snarling, "Crucio!" He just caught a glimpse of an oddly glassy-eyed Viktor Krum, before the spell hit him.

And then his whole world became agony. Searing pain ripped through every nerve, causing him to cry out. He had no idea how long it lasted, burning away every thought so that there was nothing else... until something must have startled his attacker, and the spell was released.

Then hurried footsteps running away from him, and Harry Potter's voice shouting, "Stupify!" The sound of a body falling to the ground... all overshadowed by the echoes of pain that were making his own body shake violently, in spite of his... rather extensive past experience in dealing with pain.

"Back off, kid." he heard the Boggart snap, almost growled like a feral animal... and Jack looked up to see Harry standing over Viktor's unconscious body, which was face-down in the dirt. Meanwhile, the Boggart was crouching protectively near Jack himself, making a deliberate point of keeping Jack between it at Harry. "I really don't want to be yours right now."

Harry frowned at it, quickly becoming defensive when he saw the unfamiliar face, "Who are you? What are you talking about?"

With great effort, Jack pulled himself up into a sitting position. The Boggart placed a hand on his shoulder gently. He remembered Lupin telling him its touch was an illusion, so it couldn't help him up itself, but even the illusion of a touch still helped to galvanise him against the echoes of the pain.

He took a few more shaky breaths, before answering, "It's a Boggart." He slowly picked himself up to his feet, still shaking quite a bit. "Why didn't you attack him?" He directed the question to the Boggart, and indicated Viktor as he said it, making it clear that he wanted to know why it didn't try to turn the Durmstrang Champion's own fears into a weapon.

The Boggart shook its head quickly, "He was already scared out of his mind. I think he was living his worst fear without my help."

"That doesn't make sense." Harry said, scowling at the creature, "And who are you supposed to be, anyway?"

"He's me." Jack admitted, "My worst possible future self."

The Boggart looked highly indignant at this, "You know from my perspective, I'm the best." it defended, "World domination isn't that bad a hobby, really."

"And you find this scary?" Harry asked, smirking.

"Hark who's talking, serpent-tongue." the Boggart sniped, in a tone that came close to sounding like a hiss.

That seemed to shut Harry up, and Jack mentally filed the information away later for consideration, in much the same way as he'd done when the Boggart had complimented Remus Lupin's name. He had known that Harry could speak Parseltongue, but he hadn't realised this was supposed to be a bad thing.

But right now, he turned to look down at Viktor, "I wonder why he would be afraid?" he asked, to no one in particular. "_He_ was the one torturing _me_."

"I really never thought he'd ever use a spell like that." Harry pointed out, frowning. Sure, Dumrstrang had a reputation for dark arts, but Viktor had seemed like an alright sort of guy to Jack, too.

"It doesn't seem right." Jack agreed with a frown, glancing at the Boggart to ask its opinion.

"Mind control?" it suggested, grinning evilly, and putting Jack firmly in mind of the Master and the way all those UNIT soldiers had behaved during that year of hell.

"You would say that." he grumbled.

"No, really." it defended, "There are spells that do that sort of thing... anyone with a wand and half an ounce of malice could pull it off."

"You mean the Imperius curse?" Harry asked, confused.

"It would explain the fear." the Boggart agreed, "Loss of control is one of the big ones I have trouble recreating myself."

"Yeah. The image of the Grim Reaper is a very poor substitute for the real thing, and you told me yourself that's what you look like if someone fears death." Jack pointed out, receiving an irritated sneer from the Boggart for that remark. Jack sighed tiredly, "Either way..." he looked up at Harry, "One champion down..."

"Two." Harry corrected, frowning and taking a wary step away from Jack, "I heard Fleur scream earlier."

Jack managed to pull off a convincing grin, in spite of the residual pain of that curse, "Hogwarts wins." he cheered.

"Yeah..." Harry said, cautiously stepping back once more, "But Gryffindor or Slytherin?"

"Does it matter?" Jack asked, genuinely confused, "The tournament is between schools, not houses. It doesn't matter which of us takes the prize, now... we've still both won, really."

"Oh, he's being noble again. I think I might throw up." the Boggart sulked darkly. Jack swatted a hand in its general direction, but failed to strike it.

Harry stared at Jack in surprise, "You mean... you don't actually care if I take the Cup?"

"Well... I was about to suggest we work together to get it." Jack admitted, "But if you want to go on alone through the scary dangerous maze, I won't stop you." Harry grinned, and Jack quickly added, "Don't laugh! Please. I kinda like my Boggart alive, thank you very much."

"You _like_ that which you fear most?" Harry asked sceptically, covering his mouth with both hands, stifling the urge to laugh, while the Boggart glared and backed away from him.

Jack shrugged, "I'm scared to death at the thought of becoming like him. That's why it takes this form. Every time I look at it, I feel like I'm looking into my future, and it _is_ terrifying... but I've got no problem being in his company. I've dated worse."

"I love you too." the Boggart muttered sarcastically, close to Jack's ear now. It was sort of trying to hide behind him, because Harry was barely suppressing the urge to laugh. Jack shivered slightly at its tone.

After a minute, Harry finally won the battle against the threatening fits of laughter, and asked, "Why don't you care which of us wins?"

"I have friends in Gryffindor. I don't care about the feud between our houses, and I certainly don't want to perpetuate it. I'd honestly rather team up with you than fight you."

"Friends?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Gwen Cooper and Owen Harper." Jack answered.

"Owen Harper hates you." Harry pointed out. Yes, give the kid a medal for observation skills! Best not to say that out loud with the Boggart right here, though. Someone might laugh.

"I can read your mind, y'know." the Boggart whispered in his ear.

"Yes." Jack agreed with Harry, nodding quickly and completely ignoring what the Boggart had just said, "But he hates me like a brother. You know the Weasleys, you must know what I mean."

Harry considered this for a moment, and the nodded slowly, "Yeah, I get it." Then after a moment, he asked, "So do you have any idea where the Cup is?"

"The Boggart's seen it. It's been leading me, so far."

Harry nodded, seeming to accept this much more easily than Jack himself had. No questions, no suspicion. So trusting, it wasn't even fair. If Jack had wanted to be the monster his Boggart impersonated, it would be so easy to take advantage of the poor boy's trusting nature... "Alright, let's go."

x x x

The path twisted and turned, and the Boggart seemed to be taking an unnecessarily circuitous route. After a while, Harry complained, "There has to be a quicker way."

"Through dangerous spells... yes." it answered bluntly, stopping and looking between two pathways now. One led straight ahead, the other branched off to the right. "Want the scenic route, or something more fun?"

"Define fun." Jack said coldly.

"A Sphinx." it answered, pointing straight ahead, "Fearless and vicious bitch... I hate her, but all the legends of her nature are true. If we don't know the answers, we can still go around the long way."

Jack and Harry looked at each other, and it was Jack who finally spoke, "Can't hurt to at least check it out... so long as we don't say anything stupid, right?" he asked Harry, who looked confused, "The legend of the Sphinx says she's only supposed to attack you if you give her the wrong answer... and I know the answer to the classic riddle, anyway. If she asks something else and we refuse to answer, she'll let us go back the way we came... right?" he glanced at the Boggart, which nodded.

"Let's check it out, then." Harry said, nodding, a bit wary but curious all the same.

They took the path the Boggart had indicated, and just around a corner they found themselves facing an elegant and imposing creature. The body of a giant lioness, five feet tall to her shoulder, with the head of a very beautiful woman who wouldn't have looked in the slightest out of place in Ancient Egypt.

She had been pacing the wide pathway, but now she saw them she stopped and turned to face them, idly flexing razor-sharp black claws, "You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me."

"Get on with it, then." the Boggart commanded brashly.

The Sphinx flexed her claws, "It speaks?" she demanded irritably, almost growling.

"And I can answer you, now, if you'd like." the Boggart offered.

"I will not speak to it." the Sphinx said, turning to look away from the Boggart, "It is not of my command, and it may leave in whichever way it pleases."

"So that's a no to the questioning and a yes I can go past, then?" The Sphinx turned her nose up at it, pointedly. The Boggart nodded slowly, "Alright, boys. Humans and heroes first."

Harry frowned, giving Jack an uncertain look. Jack just nodded encouragingly, so Harry turned back to the Sphinx, "So... you ask us a question, right?"

She nodded slowly, smiling at him, "That is correct. Answer on your first guess, I let you pass. Answer wrongly, I attack. Remain silent, I will let you walk away from me unscathed."

"Do we get one riddle between us?" Jack asked.

The Sphinx shook her head, her black braided hair somehow remaining perfectly set as if carved from stone, even as she did so, "No. I will ask one riddle for each of you. If one answers another's riddle, I attack." she glanced directly at the Boggart for a moment, and added, "If the demon answers for either of you..." her lips curled up in a malicious sneering smile, showing very sharp teeth, "I tell a joke."

Harry's hand flew up to his mouth, as he bit back the urge to laugh at the mere mental image of the Sphinx cracking a joke. The Boggart wrinkled its nose in disgust, but didn't retreat.

Harry and Jack exchanged a wide-eyed and wary look, but then Jack asked, "Can we hear the riddles?"

The Sphinx sat down in the middle of the pathway, and turned her head pointedly to face Jack, "For you." she spoke clearly.

"_I am no vehicle but you can get there in me,_  
><em>Ask what I am, different answers you'll see.<em>  
><em>I can be turned back but will always march on,<em>  
><em>When you do not count me, just blink and I've gone.<em>  
><em>I can crawl with no legs or fly with no wings,<em>  
><em>I am benign but bring death to all things.<em>  
><em>What am I?<em>"

Tense silence filled the air, as Jack glanced first at Harry, then the Boggart. No one spoke. Then he turned back to face the Sphinx, frowning as he thought it over.

Meanwhile, Harry was staring at Jack. The Sphinx had spoken very quickly, and he seemed to brace himself for it before asking, "And my riddle?" The Sphinx turned her head pointedly to face Harry, now, and spoke once more in the same almost melodic rhythm and intonation.

"_First think of the person who lives in disguise,_  
><em>Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.<em>  
><em>Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,<em>  
><em>The middle of middle and end of the end?<em>  
><em>And finally give me the sound often heard,<em>  
><em>During the search for a hard-to-find word.<em>  
><em>Now string them together, and answer me this,<em>  
><em>Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?<em>"

"I could tell you what it's not." the Boggart said, grinning at Harry.

"Silence, demon." Jack snapped idly. Harry gave it an slightly frightened look at the suggestion, and the Boggart had the cruel nerve to blow him a kiss. Harry shuddered, and returned his attention to the Sphinx. She smiled, and Jack got the feeling it was in approval at the rebuke against the Boggart.

"All my clues add up to a creature I wouldn't want to kiss?" Harry asked, but she didn't answer, just smiled that eerie Mona Lisa smile at him.

"Careful. Start working it out wrong, she might interpret it as an incorrect answer." Jack warned.

Harry accepted the warning, and seemed to think in silence for several moments. Jack did the same.

"I know the answers." the Boggart sing-songed, in a tone perfectly mirroring the Master in a good mood. Of course it knew. It could read minds, after all... even if the Sphinx was fearless, as the Boggart claimed, it could probably still read her as well.

"Shut up!" Stop impersonating that fucking psychotic Time Lord! Jack froze as the thought crossed his mind, staring at the Boggart... which grinned showing perfect yet somehow unnerving teeth. He turned back to the Sphinx. "Time! My answer is time." Harry gave him a startled look, and he explained hurriedly, "You can get there in time. Turn back time. Time can crawl or fly... and everything will die eventually, it's just a matter of _time!_" By the end of this explanation, said in a single breath, he was grinning victoriously.

The Sphinx smiled and nodded to him. Yes, it was the right answer. She stood, stretching like a contented housecat, and stepped aside, allowing Jack to pass. One paw remained forward, claws showing as a warning that only Jack may pass.

He glanced at Harry, unsure, "Can I wait for Harry?"

The Sphinx nodded slowly, flexing her claws and settling in the centre of the path again, her full attention now on Harry.

"Er, could I hear mine again, please?" Harry asked.

She repeated the riddle.

"Noble chivalric son of a-" the Boggart grumbled, "You could just walk past her and take the Cup, right now, you know."

"Take your time." Jack said, calmly ignoring the Boggart's ranting, "It's not a race anymore. Think it through carefully."

"A person in disguise..." Harry muttered, clearly trying to think what she meant, "who lies... er..." a few moments silence, then, "A- a spy, maybe?" The Sphinx's smile seemed to encourage him, and he asked, "Could you give me the next clue again, please?"

The Sphinx obliged him, quoting the second clue once more.

"'The last thing to mend'..." Harry repeated her, "Er... no idea... 'middle of middle'... could I have the last bit again?"

She repeated the last four lines.

"'The sound often heard during the search for a hard-to-find word'." Harry said slowly, "Er... that'd be... er... hang on- 'er'! Er's a sound!"

The Sphinx smiled, that eerie smile that seemed to mean 'yes'.

Jack, meanwhile, was fighting the urge to laugh, under the rather resentful glower of his Boggart. "I can't help it if it's funny." Jack defended weakly, when he won that battle.

"Spy... er. Spy... er." Harry repeated the two clues he'd got so far, "A creature I wouldn't want to kiss... a spider!"

The Sphinx's smile widened, and once more she stood and stretched, stepping aside to allow him to pass. Allowing them both to pass.

Jack half bowed to the Sphinx, while Harry grinned at her and said, "Thanks." They both walked on past her, and the Boggart didn't dare hesitated to follow. "I never would have got that one about time." Harry pointed out, as they walked away.

"I don't know if I'd have got the spider one... it seemed obscure." Jack admitted.

"Well... my best friend's arachnophobic." Harry admitted.

"Really? Mine's a Time Lord." Jack said with a grin.

"A what?" Harry asked, blatantly confused... but his train of thought was interrupted by the Boggart.

"You see why I hate her?" it asked, as they turned the corner out of line of sight of the Sphinx, "Smug racist bitch hates demons. Not to mention she's a Paragon of Law, and I'm currently impersonating an evil overlord."

"A rather pathetic one, if you ask me." Harry pointed out brightly.

The Boggart took a step closer to Harry, threateningly, but Jack caught its arm to stop it. "I'm better than your bastard nemesis any day, boy!" it snarled.

"Watch your language, there are children present." Jack chided, grinning.

The Boggart turned on him, "You're one to talk, love." it purred, leaning closer to him, and making him feel almost physically ill as its mere proximity reminded him of the fact that this was honestly something he could become in the future, if he wasn't careful.

When faced with fear, though, Jack's instinct had always been misdirection, and now he used humour as well. Instead of adding any more attention to the fact this creature scared him, he focused on the last word it had said, oh so idly, and sniped one word back at it, "Narcissist."

It backed down, glowering in defeat, and stalked off down the path, turned sharply right and disappeared.

Jack ran after it, but skidded to a halt at the corner, staring up in amazement at what he saw before him. Harry stopped right next to him, and also looked up, but quickly turned away covering his eyes.

"What _is_ that?" Jack asked as he gazed, transfixed, at the creature towering over them.

It looked like a giant snake, bearing down on something further down the path, something he couldn't see. The snake itself was coloured by a mottled pattern of brilliant and darker shades of green, except for around its head where the scales turned bright red surrounding a plume of feathers the same colour. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

"It's a Basilisk!" Harry yelled, "Don't look it in the eyes!" But even as he said that, the Basilisk turned to face them, and Jack met its glowing golden gaze.

x x x


	43. Death and Resurrection

x x x

**Chapter 43: Death and Resurrection**

x x x

"It's a Basilisk!" Harry yelled, "Don't look it in the eyes!" But even as he said that, the Basilisk turned to face them, and Jack met its glowing golden gaze.

An instant later, however, he found himself staring at his Boggart again. It took him a few seconds to recover from the shock of seeing that creature, and the fact that his heart had literally skipped a beat or six at the sight of its eyes... but then he reverted to his usual cheerful irreverence as he asked, "So what's scared of Basiliks, then?"

Harry peered through his fingers, and when he saw the Boggart as well he looked embarrassed by his reaction, now, as he straightened up and tried to look past it. There was nothing alive, beyond the Boggart, however. What _was_ there was the Triwizard Cup, sitting on a plinth at the end of the path, glowing softly.

"Giant spider." the Boggart answered brightly, making a dramatic gesture of picking its teeth, "Delicious."

"You didn't _eat_ it, did you?" Harry asked, stunned.

"Not literally." it said dismissively, "I do feed on fear, though." It pointed off to the left, "I think it went that way."

Harry rolled his eyes and started walking towards the Triwizard Cup. Jack quickly caught up to walk next to him, "So how do you want to do this?" Jack asked, curiously.

"I dunno." Harry said, frowning, "Like you said, either way Hogwarts wins."

"If either of us takes it for ourselves, then our respective houses will rub it in the others' faces." Jack observed darkly, "I think we should _both_ take it. Y'know, at the same time."

Harry stared in surprise, "You mean...?"

"That way there's nothing to fight about. I got the Cup, Slytherin celebrates and doesn't start anything too violent. But you get it as well, so the same goes for your house."

Harry considered this for a moment, then nodded, grinning, "I think I like that."

"I'm going to go after that spider. You boys have fun." the Boggart said dismissively, but Jack quickly caught its arm.

"You want to see me again?" he asked it.

It tilted its head curiously at him, "What could I possibly want with a goody-two-shoes like you? Of course I want to see you again, love."

Jack grinned, "I'll catch you back at the castle, sometime."

"Not if I catch you first." it purred almost threateningly, before pulling its arm away from him and leaving the two humans alone.

Jack walked up to the Cup, standing next to Harry, and holding his hand up near the handle. Harry mimicked him, "On three?" Harry asked.

Jack nodded.

"One." Harry said, grinning.

"Two." Jack said, almost laughing with the elation of victory in the air now.

"Three!" They both called out at the same time, and caught the handles of the Cup together... then the familiar sensation of a Portkey pulled Jack away from the maze, through a blur of light and shadow.

x x x

They both landed next to the Cup... somewhere misty and dark. It smelled of death and despair. Jack was immediately on alert for danger, pulling himself to his feet in spite of the disorientation of the Portkey. Vortex travel without a TARDIS was worse, so he was used to having to recover quickly when arriving somewhere new.

He immediately checked his wrist strap for nearby energy signatures. All he could see on it were himself and Harry... and the active magic of the Portkey at his feet. He drew his wand slowly, eyes scanning the darkness around them.

"Where are we?" Harry asked nervously, getting to his feet much more slowly, and giving the now armed Slytherin next to him a wary look.

Seeing the headstones nearby, Jack came to the obvious conclusion, "Looks like a graveyard. This is too morbid even for the tournament. Dragons and mermaids are cool, but I bet they draw the line before walking on people's graves."

Harry shuddered at the thought of what Jack had just said, but seemed to agree, drawing his own wand. The two boys stood back to back, both alert for danger. "What now, then?" Harry asked.

Jack saw a sign of life- and more strongly magic- on his wrist strap, and quickly turned to face the same way as Harry, wand aimed at the source of the energy. Harry seemed to recognise the urgency, even if he couldn't know how Jack had seen the figure approaching them both behind him and before Harry had spotted it.

"Cast together. Pick something second years don't know, yeah?" Jack suggested. It would be much harder to shield against two different spells simultaneously, give them a slight edge as opposed to a more random assault. Harry gave him an odd look, but nodded grimly, preparing to fight.

Jack didn't wait for the hunched figure to get too close, instead raising his wand, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry followed his lead, casting more quickly, so the spells fired at the same time, "Confundus!"

Both were well-aimed, and at least one hit... though Jack didn't wait to find out which. He shoved Harry back behind a tombstone quickly. "Yep... walking- or in this case sitting- on someone's grave. Wonderful." Jack muttered, checking his wrist strap. Some of the magic it detected on the other being appeared to match a Confundus charm. Harry's spell, then.

A couple more buttons, manipulating the holo-projector on the wrist strap, and suddenly, standing several feet away was a life-sized image of John Hart, replaying his last recorded message, "I can't believe I got the answer machine!" the hologram declared loudly.

It was the last person he expected their enemy to ever meet or recognise (therefore if the enemy survived, John wouldn't end up getting hurt for it... in theory). Just a random human form, to act as a distraction, and hopefully buy them more time.

A flash of red light flew off several feet to the far side of the hologram. Jack pressed more buttons, and it disappeared, reappearing behind their enemy.

"What can you be doing that's more important than me?" the hologram demanded. Their attacker turned around and threw another curse at the hologram, this one had better aim- probably because it was closer range- but it still missed.

"Stupify!" Harry shouted, aiming out around the tombstone... but their enemy was too fast, shielding from that spell, and firing again, the red light struck the tombstone they were hiding behind, sending pieces of stone and dust flying.

Jack pressed a couple more buttons, and the hologram was now off to their attacker's left, "Sorry about the mess. Bill me for the clean-up." John's voice said brightly.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed in Jack's ear.

"It's called a distraction." Jack muttered, as another curse flew right through the hologram. So the Confundus spell appeared to have worn off.

"That's where I am." the hologram said, not perturbed in the slightest by the curse that had passed right through its location.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Jack shot another body-bind curse around the tombstone, but their attacker clearly didn't get hit by it, as another flash of red light hit the tombstone they were hiding behind. "Together, again..." Jack commanded, and Harry nodded.

He pressed some more controls on the wrist strap, and the hologram jeered from behind their attacker again, "Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!" in a poor impersonation of a female voice.

"Stupify!" Harry shouted.

And at the same time, Jack shouted, "Rictusempra!"

A hoarse voice retaliated with a cry of, "Reducto!" The gravestone was shattered completely, and both boys were thrown several feet away from their cover... and while Jack managed to land on his side and roll onto his hands and knees away from the carnage, Harry fell flat on his back with dust and smaller bits of debris landing on his face.

Jack looked up to see the hologram flicker out, and their assailant approach ominously. Harry was groaning in pain, clutching his head, now... defenceless. Jack raised his wand to keep fighting, but an unearthly voice shrieked, "Kill the spare!"

Jack raised his wand to defend himself.

But then with a shout of, "Avada Kedavra!" a flash of blinding green light flew at Jack, striking him in the chest with a searing pain like being branded.

Then there was nothing. The familiar oblivion of death.

x x x

The next thing Jack knew he was gasping for air, quickly sitting up to find himself surrounded by Hogwarts students, back on the grounds at the edge of the maze... safe. He felt a hand that had been gripping his right wrist pull away suddenly, and he turned to see Harry next to him, staring in horror. "Oh no... Harry, listen-"

"But- but you were-!" Harry started.

"No!" Jack snapped, grabbing Harry by the shirt and leaning close, to very quickly hiss in his ear, "If you tell anyone about this, I will wish I could stay dead, I'm begging you, just wait. Let me explain later. I promise you, whatever the hell happened back there, I'm on your side. Please, give me a chance."

He let go, and Harry stared at him for several seconds. Jack began to fear that his pleas had been ignored... but then Harry nodded slowly, dumbly. Jack smiled faintly, grateful... then a voice called out, "Jack! Whoa, you look like hell."

"You look gorgeous, too, Owen." Jack sniped, before collapsing on his back in the grass, and closing his eyes in such a way that one eye remained open by the tiniest crack, so that he could see his friends leaning over him, "Feel like I could sleep for a week."

The looks on their faces said quite clearly that they understood. He only ever slept well after he had recently died, and he'd been dead for a week after Abaddon. The comparison was quite deliberate.

"Harry! Harry!" another voice demanded, and Jack tilted his head to one side to see Albus Dumbledore checking on Harry.

"He's back." Harry answered weakly, grabbing Dumbledore's wrist for support, "He's back. Voldemort."

Jack felt hands on his shoulders, and looked up to see that it was Ianto helping him to sit up. Leaning on Ianto, he looked around weakly... the fight was over, and yet still he lived... he always just wanted to close his eyes and make it all go away, when the adrenaline died without him.

"What's going on? What's happened?" an annoyingly familiar voice demanded, and Jack stared coldly at Cornelius Fudge as the man fussed around where Harry was lying on the ground... bleeding.

"What's going on right now appears to be that some people need medical attention." Owen said coldly from behind Jack.

Dumbledore looked at Owen and nodded sharply, "I find myself very much agreeing with you, Mr Harper. Come now, Harry." Jack felt Ianto move, and then heard Owen hiss in apparent pain, while with a startling display of strength, Dumbledore pulled Harry to his feet, where the boy swayed uncertainly, staring around him in a stunned daze.

"Indeed, he'll need to go to the hospital wing!" Fudge said very loudly, as if hoping that the volume of his command would detract from the shaken tone in which it was spoken. "He's ill, he's injured, he may very well have hit his head, the sort of nonsense I thought I heard from him a moment ago."

Jack turned sharply to glare at Fudge, and felt Ianto's grip on his shoulders tighten slightly in warning not to start anything right now.

"Now, Cornelius-" Dumbledore began in a calming tone.

"I'll take Harry, Dumbledore." Mad-Eye Moody offered, "I'll take him and-"

But Dumbledore interrupted, "No, I would prefer-"

"Now really, Dumbledore-" Fudge set in again, "I think we need to discuss-"

Dumbledore turned sharply, "Harry, stay here." he commanded, before turning his attention to Fudge, who was now prattling about how they needed to maintain some sort of respectable public appearance after this 'minor incident'.

"It's all right, son, I've got you." Moody said, catching Harry as he swayed a bit too far and might have fallen, "Come on... hospital wing."

"Dumbledore said stay." Harry mumbled weakly, but was unable to resist as Moody began to lead him away.

Jack looked at the rest of his team, as the buzzing of the crowd began to drown out any reason to even try speaking to one another. One pointed glance to Gwen said to deal with the crowd, run interference so that no one stopped him from following Moody and Harry... and then he stood, leaning on Ianto only long enough to find his own balance... and then following after Moody.

As he fell into step with them he took on a false limp, and did a passable imitation of a stumble, leaning more to his left than was entirely necessary, "I need to go to the hospital wing, as well, Professor." he said, genuinely breathless from the exertion of keeping going after he had died so recently.

Moody's magical eye swivelled to focus on him, and a sharp nod was his answer, "Yeah, I reckon you both need to lie down... come on now, Harry." Moody ordered, shouldering his way through the crowd to lead them both away from the maze. Jack did his best to maintain the limp, while staying a half-step behind Harry and Moody, as they made their way up towards the castle.

Hogwarts teachers never disobeyed the old telepath that ran the place. Albus Dumbledore may believe himself benevolent, but Jack knew he held a great deal of power over the staff here. For Moody to go so directly against an order like this was suspicious at best.

"What happened Harry?" Moody asked, as they made their way up the front steps.

"Cup was a Portkey." Harry gasped weakly, "Took us to a graveyard... and Voldemort was there... Lord Voldemort." It sounded like it caused him even more pain just to speak.

Jack checked for his wand, but it was nowhere to be found. Cursing mentally, he remembered he had been holding it when he had been killed. It was either down by the maze (if he was lucky)... or more likely still in the graveyard.

With the deliberate effort of faking a wince and a missed step, Jack crossed behind them so that he was now next to Harry. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, to as good as tell him that he didn't need to speak.

There was silence for a moment, as they went up staircases and through corridors. Jack began to realise that this wasn't the right way to get to the Hospital Wing... and was very disappointed to find that he wasn't in the least bit surprised.

"The Dark Lord was there?" Moody asked, "What happened then?" Jack noticed that Moody glanced his way, this time, not Harry's.

"What do you think happened?" Jack asked dubiously, as if he really shouldn't have to explain it. Of course, as he didn't actually _know_ what happened, this was perhaps the only way to reasonably pretend that he did.

"A potion." Harry explained weakly. "Got his body back."

"The Dark Lord got his body back? He's returned?" Moody asked eagerly. The reverence in his voice did not bode well.

"And the Death Eaters came... and then we duelled..."

"You duelled with the Dark Lord?" Moody asked, awed. He turned on Jack, "You witnessed this duel?"

Jack nodded.

"And the Dark Lord allowed you to live?" Moody asked, a little bit sceptically.

Jack grinned, "I'm still here, aren't I?" he asked, pretending not to notice the stunned look on Harry's face, as the boy stared at him, quite clearly still in a state of shock... but just as clearly able to tell that Jack was misrepresenting the truth quite dramatically at the moment.

Moody nodded slowly, "I see, I see." he muttered, "In here, boys. That's it. Sit down, Harry. You'll be alright now... drink this."

Jack recognised the potion as Pepperup by the unnatural curling pattern of the smoke rising from it, and stepped back, watching both of them intently.

"Drink it, you'll feel better." Moody insisted, "Come on now, Harry. I need to know exactly what happened." He all-but force-fed the potion to Harry, causing the Gryffindor to cough badly before focusing on Moody. "Voldemort's back, Harry? You're sure he's back? How did he do it?"

Harry blinked, eyes clearing and making him seem more lucid now, "He took stuff from his father's grave, and from Wormtail, and me."

"What did the Dark Lord take from you?" Moody insisted, eagerly.

"Blood." Harry answered almost automatically, raising his right arm to show a rip in his sleeve and a bloodied cut just below the elbow. Moody let out a low, impressed whistle at the sight of this wound.

Jack frowned at this new information... even without magic, blood was a dangerous commodity to give up. He remembered the time Torchwood spent a decade trying to genetically engineer an unkillable super-soldier out of his blood, and then had to fight the urge to laugh as he remembered the disastrous results of _that_ experiment.

"And the Death Eaters? They returned?" Moody asked, still eager.

"Yes." Harry answered, "Loads of them."

"Death Eaters?" Jack asked, confused. His first thought upon hearing these words involved cannibals... his second thought involved necrophilia, and he tried not to think about it anymore.

"The Dark Lord's servants, Harkness." Moody said distractedly. Jack frowned, and pondered this for all of two seconds before the mask that hid his emotions slid firmly into place so as not to show just what he thought of that.

"How did he treat them? Did he forgive them?" Moody asked, completely ignoring Jack once more.

But then Harry startled, remembering something important, "There's a Death Eater at Hogwarts!" he blurted out.

Jack snorted in spite of his best efforts to hide it. Completely aside from a very big joke he had just discovered at the expense of Voldemort's minions' unfortunate choice of names, it seemed obvious by Moody's behaviour that this was entirely the wrong person to be sharing that revelation with. Still, he went unnoticed.

"There's a Death Eater here. They put my name in the Goblet of Fire, they made sure I got through to the end-"

Harry tried to stand up, as if intending to go and find Dumbledore and tell him about this, but Moody pushed him back down into the seat, "I know who the Death Eater is." Moody said quietly.

"So do I." Jack pointed out rather bluntly, staring directly at Moody.

Moody looked at him sharply for this, and Jack just shrugged and smiled too-innocently. Jack made no move to act on this knowledge, but Moody's reaction to those three words had just removed all doubt in his mind. Still... Moody believed that Voldemort had spared Jack's life, so for now Jack would take full advantage of that illusion of an allegiance.

"Karkaroff?" Harry blurted out, looking from one to the other, still not getting it. He turned to Moody, and asked, "Where is he? Have you got him? Is he locked up?"

"Karkaroff?" Moody snorted, "Karkaroff fled tonight, when he felt the Dark Mark burn upon his arm." The crowing tone was almost victorious, "He betrayed too many faithful supporters of the Dark Lord to wish to meet them... but I doubt he will get far. The Dark Lord has ways of tracking his enemies." Jack made a mental note that Karkaroff could be a potential ally, if the man was able to drop off Voldemort's radar.

"Karkaroff's gone? He ran away?" Harry asked, confused and deflating a bit, "But then... he didn't put my name in the Goblet?"

"No. No, he didn't." Moody agreed, "It was I who did that."

"No, you didn't. You didn't do that, you can't have done!" Harry protested.

"I assure you I did." Moody retorted, drawing his wand and pointing it at Harry, "He forgave them, then? The Death Eaters who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?"

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. He just didn't seem to be able to process the danger he was in.

Jack frowned, trying to think of a way to deal with this one rationally. It was getting more difficult, and he kind of longed for the days when it was just him, the homicidal aliens and a gun. Easier that way.

"I asked you-" Moody said ominously, "-whether he forgave the scum who never even went to look for him. Those treacherous cowards who wouldn't even brave Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the Quidditch World Cup, but fled at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky."

"You fired- what are you talking about?" Harry asked, in complete denial of what the man in front of him was capable of.

"I told you Harry, I told you." Moody crowed, "If there's one thing I hate more than any other, it's a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them most. I expected him to punish them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me he hurt them, Harry..." he asked hopefully, his eager smile completely unhinged. "Tell me he told them that I, I alone remained faithful... prepared to risk everything to deliver to him the one thing he wanted above all... you."

"You didn't... it- it can't be you." Harry repeated.

Jack hated to hear this... he wanted to hurt this man, but was also curious as to _how_ this whole plot had worked.

"Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school? I did. Who frightened off every person I thought might try to hurt you or prevent you from winning the tournament? I did. Who nudged Hagrid into showing you the dragons? I did. Who helped you see the only way you could beat the dragon? I did. It hasn't been easy, Harry, guiding you through these Tasks without arousing suspicion. I have had to use every ounce of cunning I possess, so that my hand would not be detectable in your success. Dumbledore would have been very suspicious if you had managed everything too easily. As long as you got into that maze- preferably with a decent head start- then I knew I would have a chance of getting rid of the other champions and leaving your way clear."

"Pausing for breath is usually a good thing, you know." Jack pointed out idly. He had only ever known one man who could rant for that long without oxygen, before.

Moody turned to him, but the magical eye was still watching Harry, "You. You surprised me, Harkness. You so quickly discovered the egg's secret, and so willingly shared it, without any encouragement. Why was that?"

Jack shrugged, "I wanted Hogwarts to win, and I knew the other two had the advantage of magical knowledge and experience. I was just evening the odds." Moody seemed to accept that reasoning. It _had_ been a factor in Jack's decision... but then so had common decency.

"But even then, Potter, even then you seemed likely to fail." Moody continued, once more seeming not to pause for air as he monologued his entire evil scheme for them both to hear, "I was watching all the time... all those hours in the library. Didn't you realize that the book you needed was in your dormitory all along? I planted it there early on, I gave it to the Longbottom boy, don't you remember? Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. It would have told you all you needed to know about gillyweed. I expected you to ask everyone and anyone you could for help. Longbottom would have told you in an instant. But you did not, you did not. You have a streak of pride and independence that might have ruined all. It was lucky I decided to mention it to Hagrid, as well, or I might have had to resort to more desperate measures. So trusting, that Hagrid, just opens his mouth and you know all but his deepest secrets. But then you were so long in that lake, Potter, I thought you had drowned. Luckily, Dumbledore took your idiocy for nobility, and marked you high for it. I breathed again."

"Yeah. Try it now." Jack sniped, and he noticed the magical eye move, though he was standing at a bad angle to see for certain if it was looking at him.

"You had an easier time of it than you should have in that maze tonight, of course." Moody continued, "I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. I put the Imperius curse on Krum, so that he would attack Harkness and leave your path to the Cup clear."

"Viktor's Cruciatus curse is very effective, by the way. Thanks for caring." Jack muttered darkly. Moody didn't seem to even look at him with the magical eye, now, so focused was he on Harry.

"The Dark Lord didn't manage to kill you Potter, and he so wanted to." the madman continued, "Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I gave you to him- the thing he needed above all to regenerate- and then I killed you for him. I will be honoured beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter... closer than a son."

Jack rolled his eyes, deciding that he knew enough now... not to mention that he'd heard enough annoying words for the evening. If this one called Voldemort 'Master' one more time...

And so he stepped towards the two, not forgetting but _choosing_ to abandon the imaginary limp. Moody turned to face him, not noticing the difference, wand still pointed in Harry's general direction but not actually aimed now, "You really are a great con-artist." Jack said with what sounded like genuine admiration, "You had everyone fooled."

Moody became incredibly smug at this compliment, "Always good to find someone who appreciates my talents." Moody laughed, "And a future follower of the Dark Lord, no less."

Jack grinned, but it was the false grin... the charming smile of the dashing hero he didn't really believe he'd ever been in his life. "I really should thank you." he said, putting a hand on Moody's wand-arm.

"For helping to restore our Lord." the Death Eater thought to try to finish the sentence for Jack.

But before Moody knew what hit him, Jack brought his knee up sharply into the disfigured man's groin... causing him to crumple to the ground, whimpering in agony, and as he fell, Jack took his wand from his unresisting hand. "For letting your guard down." Jack finished darkly, glancing to Harry, "Binding spell?" he asked, not knowing how to cast such a spell himself, yet.

Harry shakily pulled out his own wand, "Incarcerus." he said, aiming for Moody, and ropes flew out to wrap tightly around the Death Eater.

Jack grinned, kneeling next to their prisoner, "You're great... but you're not in my league."

x x x


	44. Spatial Genetic Multiplicity

x x x

**Chapter 44: Spatial Genetic Multiplicity**

x x x

Harry was staring in utter shock at Jack Harkness' behaviour.

One moment a wounded child, the next a co-conspirator to the Death Eater, then in the blink of an eye the hero who saved him from the madman. And he was actually grinning, now, as he taunted Moody. Proud of himself and not afraid to show it in spite of all that had happened tonight.

In spite of the fact that he had died.

Harry watched in shock as Jack stood up and examined the wand he had taken from Moody. "This yours?" Moody glared, but didn't answer. Jack kicked him again, this time in the ribs. "Is this yours?" he repeated coldly. Moody continued to glare, but then he shook his head sulkily. Jack shrugged and set it on the table, "I won't steal it, then."

"Harkness...?" Harry asked warily.

Jack looked up at him, stared at him for half a second... then, in an act of pure irreverence he actually sat on Moody's chest, as the prisoner whimpered in protest. The way he did so was with such an air of smugness that, if he had been sitting on a desk instead of a human, he'd have been swinging his legs over the edge.

"Am I being too cheerful?" he asked, his apparent good mood evaporating like yet another illusion, even as he said it.

"Well... yes." Harry admitted, "But I- I mean, what happened before... you said you'd explain-"

"Not now." Jack said flatly, glancing sharply at Moody, to make a point that their prisoner had ears too. Harry frowned, but nodded.

Not a moment too soon, as the door suddenly burst open to reveal Professors Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall standing there as if ready for a fight. The scene before them had to be funny, there were no two ways about it.

Moody was bound and gagged, on his back on the floor and clearly in pain. Harry was sitting in a chair, staring at the doorway in a state of exhaustion, as if one more sharp shock might finish him off. And Jack was looking far too pleased with himself as he added extra weight to the restraints on Moody... as if magic wasn't enough, but he insisted on employing Muggle methods as well.

Indeed, all three teachers expressed their surprise in the form of agape staring, during the few seconds of silence after the door flew open.

Dumbledore stepped into the office, looking for all the world like a vengeful god. Harry stared in awe, never having seen such terrifying fury, an almost tangible air of power radiating from the old man as he glowered down at Moody with purest loathing and anger... to the point where even Jack- who Harry had begun to think was practically fearless- was unnerved enough to scramble to his feet and back off.

Harry watched as Dumbledore looked down at Moody with careful and deliberate consideration. He barely noticed when McGonagall approached him, until she spoke, "Come along, Potter. Come along, now... hospital wing."

"No." Dumbledore said calmly, but with authority that stayed McGonagall's hands where she had been trying to encourage Harry to stand.

McGonagall was clearly shocked by this command, "Dumbledore, he ought to- look at him- he's been through enough tonight-"

"He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand." Dumbledore replied, still watching Moody. "Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why."

"Moody," Harry said shakily, still utterly stunned by the mere possibility, unable to process the evidence before him as fact, "How can it have been Moody?"

"This is not Alastor Moody." Dumbledore answered darkly, looking directly at Harry as he said this, "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew... and I followed." he glanced at Jack for a moment, then asked, "I must say I am quite surprised to find our culprit incapacitated so readily."

Jack grinned- a look that seemed almost malicious- and answered in an equally dark tone, "He might have been under the impression that he could trust me. I didn't bother to correct him until he was done with his Bond-villain monologue and I'd, ah... incapacitated him." something in his tone had been almost obscene, when he repeated the word 'incapacitated'.

Harry choked with near-hysterical laughter at that. Jack's behaviour had seemed like something the bad guys were supposed to do, really... tricks and double-crossing. But it had just saved his life, so he wasn't sure how to take it other than laughing.

And the casual movie reference from a Slytherin had taken him by surprise, too.

Dumbledore searched Moody, who mumbled in protest... but the Incarcerus spell had gagged him as well as binding him, so he couldn't make a coherent sound. Finding a set of keys, and the infamous hip-flask Moody always drank from, Dumbledore carefully sniffed the contents, and then turned to the other two teachers.

"Severus, please fetch me the strongest truth potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the House Elf called Winky." he commanded, "Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here."

Harry understood the part about the dog- it was quite obviously Sirius- but he had no idea what good a House Elf would be, even with a truth potion. Both teachers simply obeyed, not bothering to protest as they assumed Dumbledore knew what he was doing.

"House Elf?" Jack muttered, clearly both amused and confused by that. Harry was a bit surprised that the Slytherin wasn't questioning the part about Sirius, really.

Dumbledore gave Jack a very calculating look, and Jack looked down at Moody to avoid the headmaster's gaze, "Perhaps you would prefer to go to the hospital wing, Mr Harkness?"

Jack shook his head, "I think I want to understand this, too, Professor." he answered, "If you don't mind?"

Dumbledore seemed a bit annoyed by this answer... but then nodded slowly and turned his attention to the trunk in the corner, to which he took the set of keys. He began going through this trunk, finding different contents with each key he used to open it. Spellbooks with one, sneakoscopes and an invisibility cloak with the second, and so on. Finally, on the seventh key, the trunk opened up to show a deep pit. An entire basement-style room within the trunk.

Harry stared in amazement, as Jack peered down into this pit. "I want a trunk like this." Jack muttered distantly... but showing no amusement now. In fact he sounded quite horrified as he looked down into the pit of a room. Harry could see why. On the floor of the pit lay what looked like Mad-Eye Moody, unconscious, thin and starved, with large clumps of his hair cut off.

Harry slowly turned his gaze on the version of Moody that was tied up in the classroom, and then back down to the pit. The one in the pit was missing the wooden leg and magical eye- an empty eye-socket without even the courtesy of an eye-patch to detract from the gruesome visage- as well. A prisoner in his own travel-case. It was terrible.

Without waiting for permission, Jack had already jumped down in the pit, landing a few feet from the real Moody, and, checking the man's pulse and remaining eye. He took off the outer robe of his uniform to throw over the helpless prisoner, and then called up to them, "He'll live... but his eye looks funny... just like Viktor, in the maze."

Dumbledore gave Harry a questioning glance for this, and Harry answered automatically, "We thought it was the Imperius curse, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded to accept this as the most likely explanation, and then held up the flask for Harry to see as he poured out a thick and lumpy potion on the floor. "Polyjuice potion, Harry." he explained, "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it."

Jack climbed nimbly out of the trunk, sitting on the edge of it and wrinkling his nose slightly at the smell of the potion, "What's Polyjuice potion do, then?"

"Turns you into someone else for an hour." Harry answered, still slightly dazed, but beginning to make sense of the situation now, however hard it was to believe.

"The impostor needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion." Dumbledore explained, glancing into the trunk and adding, "You see his hair. The impostor has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven?"

"You need hair from the person to make the potion?" Jack asked.

Dumbledore gave him an odd, almost suspicious look for this question, as if he fully expected Jack's interest to be more than merely academic... but then he nodded, "Yes, indeed." he answered, "But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done... on the hour... every hour. We shall see."

Dumbledore calmly pulled up a seat, and waited, watching the impostor intently. Harry glanced at Jack, who simply shrugged, still perched almost precariously on the edge of the trunk... also watching the fake Moody. Harry saw nothing else to do, so joined their vigil, watching and waiting.

Several minutes passed in silence... and then with a muffled cry of pain, the impostor Moody began to change. His face melted, hair shrank back and changed colour, the wooden leg and false eye both fell out, to be replaced by real flesh. It was horrible to watch, and Harry knew from experience just how much Polyjuice potion HURT during the change.

Finally, it was over, and Harry stared at the face of the man who had sent him to Voldemort like a lamb to the slaughter. He knew that face.

It was at this moment that Snape returned, with Winky. He took one look at the Death Eater- still securely bound on the floor, as the magical ropes had tightened when his body had shrunk back to its true form- and identified him clearly, "Crouch." he seemed stunned... like he'd seen a ghost, "Barty Crouch!"

It was, indeed, Barty Crouch... Junior. The young suspected- and apparently rightly so- Death Eater sent to Azkaban by his own father, without any solid proof. It was hard to know whether to feel sorry for Barty Jr. or not... with a father like that, it was little wonder he turned to the dark side.

Harry nearly voiced the thought that Barty Jr. was supposed to be dead... but there were at least two other people- himself included- in this room right now, who probably ought to be dead as well, so it seemed out of place right now.

Jack had been staring at the Death Eater's real face, utterly dumbstruck... but after hearing Snape's words, he fell over laughing. Lucky for him, he fell over to the side, instead of backwards into the trunk. "Something amusing, Mr Harkness?" Dumbledore asked.

Jack shook his head, "There's only so many faces in the universe... sooner or later you're gonna find a match." he said, still laughing, "There's no way in hell or Earth that he's the same person... but that's just-" he let out a sharp bark of laughter, "-that's priceless!"

Nobody else seemed to find this amusing at all. This was a very serious situation, Harry didn't understand how Jack could find reason to laugh when he knew the truth, that Voldemort was back and the world was going to go to hell if no one stopped it.

"Good heavens!" McGonagall gasped, stopping in the doorway and staring in shock.

Jack regained some sense of composure, now, sitting up on the floor, and grinning at Barty Jr. "He's never gonna live this down when I tell him he looks like this guy... this is the second funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. Might win first place if it weren't for the circumstances."

The teachers gave him dark looks for this, "Mr Harkness-" McGonagall began, angrily.

Jack stood slowly, holding his hands up defensively, "I may have hit my head, at some point tonight. I should probably leave before I laugh at anything else inappropriate." Snape snorted derisively, and Jack grinned darkly at his head of house, "Like his preferred name for Voldemort. Very... very inappropriate." He was clearly making great effort to restrain himself from laughing again, "I'll just go down to the hospital wing... yeah?"

"I believe that would be for the best, Mr Harkness." Dumbledore said sharply.

"See you later Harry." Jack promised, turning his back on all three teachers just long enough to give an urgent and pleading look at Harry, one finger to his lips in the universal request for silence... asking Harry not to mention his death. Not even to Dumbledore, Harry was sure.

Harry frowned, but nodded at this request, and stared after the strange Slytherin as he quickly left the room.

x x x

When Jack arrived in the hospital wing, he was immediately confronted by an incredibly irate Ronald Weasley, "What did you do to Harry?"

"Nothing." Jack said in all innocence, "Why, do you think I should?"

A snort of laughter drew Jack's attention to the fact that Owen and Ianto were there as well. Tosh and Gwen were, however, nowhere to be seen. It was, naturally, Owen who had almost laughed... most likely because Jack knew damned well that the man was a fan of Rocky Horror. How else could their pet Weevil have been given such a name?

Ron's older brother, who none of the team knew besides the fact he was a relative, Hermione Granger, and an older woman with bright red hair who could only be the Weasley matriarch, were all standing near Ron, on the far side of the room from Jack's two friends.

"Ron, leave him alone, dear." Mrs Weasley commanded in a kind-but-stern tone.

"But he was _with_ Harry when it happened!" Ron protested, "He had to be on You-Know-Who's side, or he'd be dead!"

Jack shot a look at Owen, but both he and Ianto seemed to understand now was not the time for snarky jokes about immortality. He walked right past Ron, to where Madam Pomfrey was watching, "I'm not feeling too well." he said weakly, and this inspired the nurse to immediately shoo everyone away from bothering Jack any more, and drag him off to see what was wrong.

It did, however, leave Owen and Ianto in the company of Harry Potter's fan club.

Owen looked at Ianto, "Should we maybe go...?"

"And miss the show, are you kidding me?" Ianto asked, "I want to know what actually happened."

"Sure your boyfriend could tell you." Ron sniped.

Ianto glared, and Owen looked menacing, "Don't you have anything better to do than shove your nose up Rita Skeeter's butt?" Owen sniped, earning an offended squeak from Mrs Weasley and a choked laugh from Hermione.

There was an ominous silence and a complete standoff for the longest time. Nobody spoke while Mad-Eye Moody was brought in, looking like he'd been to hell and back, and Madam Pomfrey took him off to a seperate ward of the hospital wing. They stared, but they didn't speak.

It was quite some time later when the doors finally opened again, and in came Professor Dumbledore, closely followed by Harry Potter and a conspicuous black dog. Everyone turned to stare at Harry... except for Owen and Ianto, who were looking at the dog.

"Doesn't that look like...?" Owen whispered to Ianto, who nodded. "Jack! You still alive in there? We got company!"

A screen was pulled back, and Madam Pomfrey angrily tried to insist that Jack stay in bed and that she had ordered him to rest. The exasperated nurse turned around to see Harry a second later and gasped at the sight of him.

Jack complied with her order, perching on the edge of said bed, watching the new arrivals with curiosity. The dog cocked its head to one side when it saw him, and stared intently at Jack, growling low in the back of his throat. Jack feigned innocence, and then pointedly ignored it.

"Harry! Oh Harry!" Mrs Weasley cried, moving to hug the dead-on-his-feet hero... but Dumbledore got in her way.

"Molly." the old man said, holding his hands up to calm the woman, "Please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him, you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Molly- who Jack was still sure was Ron Weasley's mother, in spite of not having heard any evidence to support this theory- nodded slowly, then she turned on the others in the room, her sons, Hermione, and even Ianto and Owen, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!" she commanded.

"Headmaster." a stunned Madam Pomfrey asked, indicating the black dog, "May I ask what-?"

"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while." Dumbledore answered unhelpfully. "I assure you, he is extremely well trained. I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry." he continued, "I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school."

And with that, he left.

Silence reigned, even as Madam Pomfrey guided Harry to the bed next to Jack's. Harry was clearly still shaken, and as soon as the screens were pulled around him, Jack waved to Owen and Ianto that they should leave.

Scowling deeply, Owen nodded and stalked off. Ianto gave him a quizzical look and Jack nodded reassuringly. Ianto followed Owen out, leaving Jack alone in the hospital wing while Harry had his small army of well-wishers.

x x x

It took surprisingly little time for Harry to be fed a sleeping potion, Harry's army of cheerleaders- minus dog- to leave, and Jack to convince Madam Pomfrey that all he needed was bed rest and a calming potion. A calming potion he only pretended to take, at that.

But as soon as Harry was unconscious and everyone else had gone, Jack found himself being assaulted by a very angry Sirius Black. A rough hand to his throat, pinning him down onto the hospital bed, a knife held up to his jaw, and bad breath snarling threateningly in his face, "You came back from the dead. I saw it."

Jack hadn't counted on that. The detail that Sirius had been spying on the Third Task had completely slipped his mind.

He couldn't quite breathe, so there was no verbal response he could give. Instead he struggled to pull Sirius' hand away from his neck. He could easily have kicked, it wasn't like Sirius was pinning him very effectively or anything, but he didn't want a real fight.

Sirius slowly loosened his grip but didn't let go, "I also saw what you did to Crouch." he growled, still dangerous but now a little bit more rational, "I think you need to explain yourself."

Jack gasped for air, "I'm not your enemy." he said urgently.

"You died." Sirius growled. The knife was still too-close, but at least he wasn't choking him now.

"I'm not the only one in this room to survive a killing curse."

This did make Sirius hesitate a little, even so much as to pull the knife away an inch or so. His ominous stare became more wary than angry, as if to say 'go on'.

"It's complicated." Jack said quickly, "And the spy-ball is still in my pocket, so if you really want to know then leave me alone with Harry. I'll leave the comms open so you can hear. I promised I'd explain it to him, too, and it's a painful memory. Please, don't make me re-live it twice."

Sirius backed off now, standing over him, still holding the knife ready to strike if Jack tried anything. He looked at Harry, and concern and painful understanding crossed his face, "You hurt him-" he turned sharply to stare at Jack. "-and I will tear you to pieces."

x x x


	45. The Parting Of The Ways 1

x x x

**Chapter 45: The Parting Of The Ways**

x x x

Sirius' threat did make it rather difficult to sleep, that night. Jack was alone in the hospital wing with the sleeping boy-hero, and the incredibly vigilant and ominous Animagus. Still, somehow after some effort he managed to leave consciousness behind for a while.

He was awoken by voices in the corridor outside.

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva-" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly. He sounded very defensive.

Following Ianto's lead from the previous year, Jack immediately tapped on his commlink so the others could hear, even though they weren't actually present.

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" McGonagall yelled. He had never heard the Gryffindor head of house raise her voice before, and it was downright scary, "When Dumbledore finds out-!"

Sirius whined and pawed at his ear from the feedback. Jack politely tuned out Sirius' frequency on the comms, to prevent that.

The doors burst open, loudly, and in strode an irate Minister for Magic, closely followed by Professors McGonagall and Snape. Harry sat up and put his glasses back on, but Jack was the only one looking his way to notice. Everyone else- and it was Harry's fan club back in the room again- was too busy being mad at the newcomers for the possibility of waking him to notice that he was already awake now.

Jack idly propped his head up on one hand, not bothering to sit up yet. Feigning disinterest, as if he's only paying attention because they had rudely woken him as well, and nothing more.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded, turning on the only other responsible-looking person in the room. Mrs Weasley. Her eldest son did not count, as he had long hair and a fang-earring that seemed to purposefully scream rebellious youth.

"He's not here." she answered sharply, "This is a hospital wing, Minister, don't you think you'd do better to-"

But as if his name had summoned him, Dumbledore chose this moment to stride into the room, doors swinging behind him dramatically.

"What has happened?" he asked, looking from Fudge to McGonagall. Apparently their voices _really_ carried. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you. I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch-"

At this rebuke, McGonagall bristled and immediately saw to shifting the blame where it apparently belonged, "There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked in disgusted anger, "The Minister has seen to that!" Whatever the Minister had done, it was big. She seemed too infuriated to continue, hands balled up into fists like she wished they were around Fudge's throat.

It was Snape who explained, "When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events, he insisted on summoning a Dementor-" at that word, Jack's gaze turned to pure venom as well, focusing on Fudge with loathing. Now he understood McGonagall's anger, "-to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch-"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall cut in, "I told him you would never allow Dementors to set foot inside the castle, but-"

"My dear woman!" Fudge interrupted, just as offended by her righteous indignity as she was by his rash actions, "As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous-"

"The moment that- that _thing_ entered the room-" McGonagall yelled across him, pointing an accusing finger at Fudge, "-it swooped down on Crouch and- and-"

"Yeah, swooping is bad." Owen muttered in Jack's ear. So they _were_ listening, then.

"It Kissed him?" Ianto asked, shocked, "And Owen's making jokes."

"You lot know you're evil geniuses, right?" one of the Weasley twins offered their opinion, in a way that might have sounded cheerful if he didn't sound just as incensed- if a lot lower volume- as McGonagall, "And we emphasise the evil here."

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" Fudge protested, "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths."

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius." Dumbledore reasoned calmly, staring Fudge down. Eye-contact, and all. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" Fudge persisted, "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius." Dumbledore insisted, still surprisingly calm considering what had happened, "Those peoples deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge gaped in shock and horror.

"You know that look a goldfish gets when you tell it you ran out of cat food?" Jack whispered _very_ quietly, so only the commlinks picked it up.

"Aw, where's Colin Creepy when you need him?" Owen complained, "I so want a picture of Fudge's face right now!"

"You-Know-Who... returned?" Fudge spluttered, "Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore gave him a cold but still somehow pitying look, "As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you, we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort- learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins- went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

Fudge spluttered and blustered for a moment, "Now see here, Dumbledore." he said finally, a faint smile crossing his face as he must have thought he had found a reasonable explanation, or that Dumbledore was just playing mind-games with him, "You- you can't seriously believe that You-Know-Who... back? Come now, come now... certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders, but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore..."

"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort." Dumbledore said evenly, "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office." he glanced at Harry now, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge glanced vaguely at Harry, "You are- er- prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

"You're not?" Jack asked sharply, drawing everyone's attention to him.

"Oh no, Jack, what are you doing?" Ianto asked, over the comms, clearly worried.

But Jack had sat up straight, and was watching Fudge carefully, now. "I was there, too, you know." he said carefully, "And Crouch confessed with a truth potion- at least, I assume that was a truth potion, if my Latin's any good?"

He glanced at Dumbledore, who gave him a bemused look, and a slight nod.

Jack turned back to Fudge, "If you need more proof, maybe you should ask Igor Karkaroff. I'm sure if you can find him he'll tell you that the Dark Mark burned on his arm tonight."

Snape flinched slightly at Jack's words, but he carefully didn't draw attention to that yet.

"Where are you getting this one from?" Owen asked.

"Shush, Owen!" Tosh hissed.

But Fudge laughed derisively, now, "Now now, Dumbledore, you are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and these two boys who... well..."

Harry glanced at Jack, who was now glaring at Fudge. "You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr Fudge." Harry said bluntly. Harry's fan-club all jumped, finally realising that he was awake.

"That better not be why he's discrediting me, or I can arrange for picket-lines outside the Ministry of Magic within the hour." Jack muttered darkly. Ianto snorted with suppressed laughter at that, "I am not kidding." Jack added, in a way that could be taken as a continuation of the original sentence, even thought it was in answer to Ianto's reaction.

"Well she said I had hallucinations and was insane." Harry said darkly.

"What page was that one on?" Jack asked.

"Twelve, right behind the story about me and Snape." Harry answered, pulling a disgusted face. Snape shook his head in revulsion. Clearly he had also read that article.

"Yes, and she did get fired for that issue, didn't she?" Jack pointed out, almost smirking now.

Fudge spluttered indignantly, "And if I have?" he asked, turning to Dumbledore. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about Mr Potter very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place-"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" Dumbledore asked.

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" Fudge asked, jumping on this tiny detail as if it was somehow a point in his favour, "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly... hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius." Dumbledore commanded, taking a step toward Fudge. He was giving off that old-and-powerful vibe. The one even Jack couldn't do that well. Before now, only the Doctor, the Master, and Jack's Boggart had managed that ominous pissed-off-deity vibe. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge stepped back, stunned but still determined, "You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before..."

"Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry snapped angrily, "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy-"

"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge insisted, offended by the very idea, "A very old family- donations to excellent causes-"

Jack's eyes narrowed, "Of course there's no way you could accuse him of something like that. He bribed all the right people."

Fudge didn't seem to recognise the sarcasm. Either that or he was too preoccupied by Harry to care about Jack.

"Macnair!" Harry insisted.

"Also cleared!" Fudge shouted back, "Now working for the Ministry!"

"Murderer for hire, is it?" Owen sniped, "Didn't you used to date one of those, Jack?"

Jack flinched slightly, and was sure that if Ianto and Owen were in the same room Owen would be making an appearance in the Hospital wing any minute now.

"Avery- Nott- Crabbe- Goyle-" Harry continued.

"Hey, if I accuse my Avery as well, can I get separate sleeping quarters?" Jack asked suddenly. Harry looked affronted that he wasn't taking this seriously. "What? I swear one of these days that boy will murder me in my sleep."

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" Fudge protested, "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heavens sake, Dumbledore- the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too- his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them. The boy can talk to snakes. Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

"You fool!" Professor McGonagall yelled, "Bertha Jorkins! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" Fudge insisted, his anger rising. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilise everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

"I hate politicians." Jack muttered darkly. He briefly entertained the mental picture of how Fudge might react if faced with the Master and a laser-happy Toclafane or six, but quickly dismissed it lest he start chuckling maliciously.

Harry gave him an odd glance, and Jack shrugged to brush off any potential questions before they could be voiced.

"Voldemort has returned." Dumbledore said coldly, "If you accept that fact straightaway Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the Dementors-"

"Preposterous!" Fudge cried out, "Remove the Dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the Dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"Yes, let's keep the soul-sucking monsters around. That's always a good idea." Jack sniped sarcastically.

"Oh yeah, they just proved how perfectly trustworthy they were tonight, didn't they?" Owen agreed with an equally derisive tone, "Not to mention last year when they demonstrated an excellent ability to tell the difference between an innocent teenager and their primary target. Couldn't ask for better allies, really."

Partly in agreement with Owen, partly for Fudge's benefit, Jack added too-brightly, "I'd feel safer left alone in a room with a dozen Blast-Ended Screwts than be in the same building as a single Dementor."

Harry snorted in horrified amusement at that. Laugh of cry, really... and it was quite clear which one he picked.

"They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge." Dumbledore said, "Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can. With the Dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago."

Fudge was completely dumbstruck.

"The second step you must take- and at once-" Dumbledore continued regardless of Fudge's blank staring, "-is to send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge protested, horrified, "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late." Dumbledore explained urgently, "Or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You- you cannot be serious!" Fudge insisted, shaking his head and backing a few steps away from Dumbledore. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants- people hate them, Dumbledore- end of my career-"

"You are blinded by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius!" Dumbledore said, his voice rising in anger again. That vengeful god air around him once more, "You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognise that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your Dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any, and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now; take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act; and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane." Fudge muttered, shaking his head, "Mad..."

"Complete mental breakdown in three..." Owen started.

"Two." a twin put in brightly.

"One." the other twin concluded.

True enough, Fudge's brain did appear to have suffered a minor implosion. He was just staring blankly, unable to concoct even the vaguest semblance of a sentence.

Meanwhile, Jack's mind was already going over strategies and plans for the impending war. Dumbledore was right about the Dementors and giants, he didn't doubt... but in spite of his derogatory remarks on Fudge's pure-blood prejudices, he was forgetting one very important thing. Muggles could fight, too. If pressed, even the old Torchwood regime would choose the right side and join the fight.

Dumbledore sighed, "If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius, we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I- I shall act as I see fit." It wasn't a threat- not to the Minister himself, at least- but Fudge clearly interpreted it as one.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore." he spluttered, waving a finger as if he imagined he was telling off a disobedient child, "I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me-"

"The only one against whom I intend to work is Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore said coolly, "If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

"He can't be back, Dumbledore." Fudge said quietly, almost begging Dumbledore to see it his way, "He just can't be."

It was at this point that even Snape finally lost his cool. The last one here to do so. He stalked forward, past Dumbledore, and with an angry jerking motion he pulled up the left sleeve of his robe. "There." he snarled, shoving his bared arm in front of Fudge's face. Jack just about made out a strange tattoo on Snape's arm, but from this angle he couldn't see what it looked like. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Fudge backed away from Snape, clearly disgusted by the mark on his arm, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry." He turned to leave, but paused in the doorway, glancing darkly at Harry, and then Jack, "The presentation ceremony for the tournament's grand prize will take place tomorrow, at midday. Mr Bagman will preside, naturally."

And with that he stormed out.

x x x

As soon as Fudge was gone, Dumbledore turned to the rest of those gathered in the room. "There is work to be done." he said briskly. "Molly, am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can." Mrs Weasley with a curt nod. She looked quite pale but determined all the same. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."

Jack tapped his commlink, "Hospital wing, now." he said bluntly. He gave Dumbledore a blank look in answer to the curious glance this earned him.

A second later the doors opened and all four of the Torchwood team piled into the room. At the bemused look Jack shot them, Ianto asked, "You're surprised?"

Jack shrugged, "Not in the least." He looked at Dumbledore, "Enemy of my enemy."

Dumbledore nodded and returned his attention to the rest of the assembled wizards here, "Then I need to send a message to Arthur. All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as short-sighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad." Ron's older brother said, "I'll go now."

"Excellent." Dumbledore said with a nod, "Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry-"

He nodded, "Leave it to me." With that he turned and left.

"Hey, Bill!" a twin said, as they seemed to have arrived at the same time as their brother was leaving. Bill gave them an odd look, but then nodded, and continued on his way.

Now everyone who owned one of the magically modified commlinks was here.

"Minerva." Dumbledore continued in a commanding tone, "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also- if she will consent to come- Madame Maxime."

McGonagall also nodded, and left without a word.

"Poppy." Dumbledore continued, now turning to Madam Pomfrey, "Would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us."

"Very- very well." she said shakily, before leaving. Well that was clearly just to get her out of the way.

"And now." Dumbledore said, giving the newcomers a rather sceptical glance, "It is time for two of our number to recognise each other for what they are. Sirius... if you could resume your usual form."

At this, Sirius promptly turned back into a human.

And Mrs Weasley screamed. "Sirius Black!" she shrieked in horror.

"Mum, shut up!" Ron complained, exasperated. "It's okay!"

"Cool." the twins said in unison. Dumbledore seemed rather surprised that none of the second-years showed any reaction to Sirius Black's sudden appearance in their midst.

For all of the two second, before his attention was drawn to Snape, who snarled. "Him! What is he doing here?" Sirius might as well have been the dog again, baring teeth and glowered. It was a surprise that he wasn't audibly growling.

"He is here at my invitation." Dumbledore explained, looking carefully from one to the other, "As are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other." After a pause of ominous staring contest, Dumbledore added, "I will settle, in the short term for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any us."

Eventually, with the deepest bitter loathing, the two conceded and reluctantly went so far as to shake hands on it.

"Hmm, Jack and Rhys, or Ianto and John?" Tosh asked in a hushed voice to Gwen.

"Oh, Ianto and John. Definitely." she answered.

Owen chuckled darkly at that. Ianto, unwilling to retaliate directly to the girls, instead took it out on Owen, elbowing him sharply in the ribs.

"That will do to be going on with." Dumbledore said, quickly stepping between Sirius and Snape, "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher- the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."

Sirius gave a dark look at Jack, but then nodded to Dumbledore's request.

"But-" Harry protested. Clearly he really wanted Sirius to stay with him right now.

"You'll see me very soon, Harry. I promise you." Sirius said gently, "But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course I do." Harry said reluctantly.

Sirius shot Jack one last warning look, mouthing, '_I'm watching you._' before transforming back into the dog and turning to leave the room.

Then Dumbledore turned to Snape, "Severus, you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared..."

Snape nodded curtly. "I am." There was a distant pain in his eyes that might mean nothing to most people, but to Jack it practically screamed that the very last thing he wanted, ever, was to do whatever Dumbledore was asking of him... but he understood that it had to be done and he was the one to do it.

"Then good luck." Dumbledore said, concern crossing his face briefly as he watched Snape leave the room as well.

Then he turned to stare at the newcomers for a moment, before giving Jack a questioning look.

"There's a war coming. We can help." Jack said simply.

"But you're just children." Mrs Weasley protested.

"We have connections. You've missed a very important ally so far." Jack said, more to Dumbledore than to her, "Just because they don't go in for any of that foolish wand-waving, doesn't mean Muggles are useless. And we know the best of them."

Harry snorted at the almost direct quote from Snape's first potions lesson... proving once and for all that it was in fact a pre-planned speech he used every year.

"Best of the best." Owen put in, earning himself another elbow to the ribs from Ianto.

Jack, however, smirked, "What he said."

Dumbledore tried to make eye-contact, but Jack carefully avoided it. Then he tried with the rest of the team. Not one of them met his eyes, and he seemed rather surprised by this.

"We shall see." Dumbledore said carefully, "For now, I shall give you the benefit of the doubt."

Jack smiled faintly, "Likewise."

x x x


	46. The Parting Of The Ways 2

x x x

**Chapter 46: The Parting Of The Ways**

x x x

"Alright, Harkness." Harry said determinedly, as soon as they were both left alone in the hospital wing, "I told Dumbledore you were knocked out and Voldemort didn't see you. Which is true... I just didn't mention the part where you were _dead_, rather than unconscious. You owe me an explanation now, so start talking."

"Okay, but remember, you can't tell anyone about this." Jack warned, "Not Dumbledore, not your friends, not even your friend's pet cat. Understand?"

Harry nodded slowly in acceptance of these terms. He clearly didn't like them, but he just as clearly wanted to know how Jack had survived.

"Short version, I just can't stay dead." Jack said bluntly, before sighing and beginning to explain, "Sometimes it's a good thing- makes it a lot easier to stand between someone I care about and danger- but I still consider it more of a curse than a gift."

"I thought that this sort of thing was... well, dark magic?" Harry asked warily.

"Not the way it happened to me... I don't think." Jack said, considering it, "You want the whole story, don't you?"

Harry nodded slowly, sitting up more attentively, turning to face Jack. Jack also sat up straighter, moving to perch on the edge of his own bed, and going into story-telling mode.

"First of all, I'm older than I look, which is how I got past the age line into the tournament... but that's a completely different story." he waved a hand to dismiss that part, "I used to be one of the bad guys. I worked for an evil organisation... who for some reason thought it was a good idea to erase two years of my memories. When I found out about it, I left and started using everything they taught me against them."

"You admit to being a bad guy?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Relatively speaking. And past tense." Jack corrected, "But then I met someone. Typical hero type, can't help but do the right thing." he snorted, bemused, "Y'know, when I worked for the Agency they considered that a mental illness."

Harry smiled faintly, somehow managing to look both indignant and amused at the same.

"I was trying to cheat some people I used to work for, and I mistook him for one of them... for all of five minutes, until he started displaying a sense of common decency. I had made a miscalculation... it could have killed a lot of people, and I really didn't mean for that to happen. He fixed it, everyone lived, and he decided to take me with him. He was travelling with this girl at the time- smart, kind, pretty, blonde, everything you'd think of in a perfect fairy-tale heroine- and they both treated me like a human being... which was a first for me."

He didn't explain that last part. Certainly didn't want to share the fact that the Agency had seen him as a tool, a weapon... others had thought he was a monster... and he had been quite certain at the time, though less so now, that everyone else had only wanted one thing from him. He didn't want to explain that any more than he wanted to mention the names of his saviours.

"So these two just took in a con-artist who almost killed a bunch of people... why, exactly?" Harry asked, still slightly stunned... and quite probably not believing what he was hearing at all.

"I'm honestly not sure. I guess he saw some good in me. When it came down to it, I did kind of risk my life to help fix my mistake." Jack said, considering it for a moment, "Besides, spending time around them- him especially- sort of had an effect on me. It felt good to help people."

Harry frowned, "What has any of this to do with you not dying?"

"Well eventually, we got mixed up in the beginning of a war. Humans versus monsters that wanted to kill us all. I had some combat experience, unlike everyone else who was there at the time, so I organised the defence, while he tried to work on a plan to stop them." He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath, "We weren't so lucky, that time."

"What happened?" Harry asked, leaning forward a bit more, listening very intently now. Whether it was true or not- and Jack still got the feeling he didn't believe it- he clearly thought it was an interesting story.

"They killed everyone, I was the last line of defence, and I honestly don't know for sure what happened after I died." Jack admitted, some of the fear and pain of those memories slipping into his tone as he spoke, "I know that she did something... accessed some sort of power no human should ever have... stopped the monsters from destroying everything. Wiped them out instead, and then... she used that power to bring me back. But she didn't know what she was doing. Tried too hard, maybe, I don't know. But it brought me back permanently. It almost killed her... would have, if he hadn't sacrificed his life to draw the energy out of her."

Harry stared at Jack for several very long seconds, then spoke very softly, "She brought you back..." He seemed to think about it for a while, until Jack felt quite uncomfortable with the silence, before nodding, "I... think I might actually believe you."

Jack grinned... not quite as brightly as he would normally, though, "It's all true... although you'd be the first to take that story at face value."

"So because she brought you back... nothing can kill you?" Harry asked, curiously.

Jack shook his head, "I can die. I just don't stay that way for long." He thought about his past deaths for a while, then added, "Longest it's ever been was about a week."

"What's it like?" Harry asked, "Death?"

Jack blinked, then frowned, "I never see or feel anything... I don't think I'm meant to know. Wouldn't be fair if I came back and told everyone, would it?"

"I guess not." Harry said with a slight shrug.

A few seconds more passed in silence, then Jack sighed, "You know... if I'd been here when I was really eleven... I think I'd have been a Gryffindor."

Harry stared at him with shock for this, and Jack grinned at the utterly dumbstruck expression he wore.

"The Agency taught me a lot... I learned how to get anything I needed, without upsetting delicate situations... I especially enjoyed learning to manipulate people around me, make them as good as beg to give me what I wanted from them. These aren't things I ever even considered when I was younger... talents Slytherin house seems to prize."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked, stunned.

"Not everyone is what they appear to be. Crouch Junior is an excellent example, but also the most blatant." Jack sat forward, leaning closer to Harry now, "If this is the start of a war, you need to know your friends from your enemies... and who might change sides with the right motivation."

Harry stared at him for a minute, then asked, "What are you implying?"

"Nobody lives up to their stereotypes." Jack said with a smirk, "My friends expect me to lead them and play hero. I'm perfectly willing to do it, but they forget that I'm not as noble as they'd like to think. Draco Malfoy- he's a good example, too. What do you think of him?"

"I think he's the first student in this school who'd want to join Voldemort." Harry answered immediately. Anger and dislike for his Slytherin classmate more than obvious.

"I bet you he doesn't." Jack retorted, grinning, "He's a malicious little brat, and he talks big. He's very good at that, can tell a great story, and he's got the potential to be a brilliant actor if he didn't over-do it for the attention. But he despises violence... he'll only pick a fight he's sure he can win, and only to laugh at the loser, never to cause permanent harm."

"How do you know this?" Harry asked sceptically.

"I've been watching. And not just him. Theodore Nott isn't Death Eater material, either. On the other hand, have you ever actually talked to Marcus Belby? Not a pleasant person, in spite of his quiet exterior."

"He's in Ravenclaw, isn't he?" Harry asked. Jack nodded, "I thought all the bad ones were in Slytherin?"

"Apparently it's a popular theory." Jack muttered, "It's not just our houses that you need to think about... you're aware of Owen Harper?" Harry nodded, showing mild fear at Owen's name... the boy was a menace, "He's really a very kind person... he just acts like that to keep people at a distance. And Ianto Jones... he's as conniving as any good Slytherin... only reason he's in Hufflepuff is his loyalty to-" Jack hesitated, there.

"To you?" Harry asked, smirking faintly.

"Yeah." Jack admitted.

"You two really love each other, huh?" Jack gave Harry a wary look, seeing none of the disgust his friend Ron had expressed at the though. In fact all Jack could see in Harry's eyes was innocent curiosity.

Jack inwardly shuddered at the word, though. Love. The thought that it could be true was utterly terrifying to him. So instead, he tried to direct the conversation away from it. "You don't seem bothered by that thought?" he asked.

Harry shrugged, "You told me about your terrible past. My turn now?" he laughed self-depreciatingly. Jack raised an eyebrow, not daring to show any sign of amusement, until he heard what Harry had to say. "I was raised by Muggles. Anything to do with magic was disgusting and abhorrent to them. I was kept as good as a slave, there to do the housework and pretend not to exist when they had visitors."

Jack stared, blinked twice, then all-but whispered, "Y'know, everyone thinks you were raised by wizards, to know why they all thought you were a hero."

"And I'd rather let them." Harry said bluntly, "Maybe then I can imagine it's true sometimes. I... kinda like the idea of being adopted by the Weasleys."

"The twins are kinda cool." Jack said, shaking his head, "No idea what you see in Ron, though. He's more prejudiced against Slytherin than Draco is against people with non-magical parents."

"He was the first person who ever wanted to be my friend." Harry said, frowning. But then he seemed to dismiss that line of the conversation completely, "The point I was trying to get to-" he said rather sharply, smirking faintly at Jack, "-is that if I was considered so unnatural and despicable for my magic, I figured anything else that elicited the same reaction from my aunt deserved the benefit of the doubt... and one time when I was nine, we were down the shops and there were these two men kissing..."

Jack stared for half a second, after Harry had trailed off... then he all but fell over laughing, "I see the logic there." he gasped between snorts of laughter.

"I've never thought of doing it myself." Harry admitted, snickering slightly. Clearly the mental picture Jack had was accurately amusing, given the fact that Harry shared the joke. "But I didn't see anything wrong with it, either. It was just people kissing... and Uncle Vernon slobbering on her is far worse than what she was complaining about those guys doing."

After almost a minute, Jack regained some semblance of self-control, still chuckling at the mental picture of some unlikeable woman- for some reason Helen Lovejoy from the Simpsons came to mind- shrieking indignantly at an innocent kiss, and a nine-year-old Harry Potter staring at her like she'd gone insane.

Then quite suddenly, he asked slyly, "Ever thought of kissing a girl, then?"

Harry stared for several seconds, completely surprised by the Slytherin's questioning of his love-life, before admitting, "Well... not exactly. I did try asking Cho Chang to the Yule Ball... but she's with Cedric Diggory, and... well... I'm still not even sure why I liked her."

"She does know how to handle a broomstick." Jack observed, remembering the first Quidditch match he'd ever seen, between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Cho Chang was Ravenclaw's Seeker, and damn she was good. Totally flattened Cedric Diggory... and Jack assumed, from that information alone, that Diggory must be the submissive type.

Harry seemed to completely miss the double-entendre in Jack's words, however, simply mumbling, "I dunno." rather quietly... seeming to be referring to his feelings for her, whether he had simply been desperate not to attend the Ball alone, or if he'd really liked the girl. "Doesn't seem so important right now."

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked, frowning.

"Well with Voldemort back... there'll be a war... and everyone's gonna think the one who defeated him before can do it again, right?" Harry asked, frowning.

"No sane person would depend on a child to fight a war for them, Harry." Jack said bluntly, "And if war is coming, even _if_ you were the only hope, you shouldn't just sit and wait for it, not enjoying what you've got while you can... that would be like accepting defeat... or fate. Neither of those is good."

Harry laughed weakly, "Yeah?"

"Life is short." Jack said quietly, "When I knew I was going to die, the first time, I remember thinking in those last seconds... and most of what I regretted was wasted time."

"Words of wisdom... from a second year Slytherin." Harry said with a grin, "What do you suggest, then?"

"Don't let people tell you what you can and cannot do, unless they give you a good reason that you agree with... preferably including the phrase '_or we're all going to die_'." Jack smiled as Harry only just choked back the urge to laugh at that glib reduction of morality, "It's your life, so live it the way you want to. That's all."

"So... what if I didn't want to live with my relatives anymore?"

"I'd sincerely hope, for the psychological abuse you suffered in their care, that you already demanded justification for that one." Harry nodded slowly. "And?"

"Dumbledore said there was some sort of magical protection, because my Aunt's a blood-relative." Harry admitted.

"Very vague." Jack said, considering it distantly, "I don't trust Dumbledore, y'know."

"Why not? He is the greatest wizard in the world."

"You have definitive proof of this?" Jack asked sceptically, "Someone held a tournament? A survey, audit or census of magical skills? Witnessed him vanquish any demons lately?" he smirked faintly, "I slew a demon, y'know. His name was Abaddon. Now that... really hurt." he rubbed his chest for emphasis, and Harry grinned.

"I have no idea if I should believe a word you say or not, Harkness." he said, shaking his head.

"But you trust the man who sentenced you to live with those Muggles you're related to?"

Harry frowned, hesitating, "What did he do to offend you?"

"He tried to read my mind." Jack said bluntly, shrugging slightly, "Didn't work, but it's the principle of the matter. He didn't even ask me nicely, or buy me dinner first."

Harry made a choking noise, "Did you just imply what I think you-"

"Yes." Jack interrupted quite bluntly, "I do that a lot. Force of habit. Besides, there _are_ some people who refer to telepathy without consent as mind-rape."

That shut Harry up. Actually it made him cringe noticeably, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Hey, you okay?" Jack asked, worried.

"Voldemort." Harry whispered, "He's tried to read my mind before. Whenever I'm near him, I get this... pain, in my scar." he rubbed the famous mark on his forehead as he even thought about it. "My head hurts, and a few times I've had nightmares where I hear his voice."

"Shit." Jack swore, "Sorry, I was probably a bit insensitive with the comparison, then."

"Uh huh." Harry muttered.

"I am so sorry." Jack repeated, getting up and crossing the small space between their beds, sitting next to Harry and wrapping his arms around him. Harry leaned into the hug, allowing Jack to comfort him. Jack appeared to be only a year and a half younger than Harry, but Harry was small for his age while Jack was about average for his apparent age, so they were actually about equal.

After some time, Harry spoke softly, "Dumbledore really tried to read your mind?"

"Yeah... although I think if he wanted to forcibly reveal my secrets, I wouldn't have been able to stop him. What he really did was more like a gentle touch." he touched the side of Harry's face, turning his head slightly to meet his eyes, as a kind of example, "Trying to see what I was thinking particularly loudly at the time."

"Thinking loudly?" Harry asked, with a puzzled expression.

"Uh, that's what my friend used to call it. He was a really powerful telepath, couldn't block out stuff on that level." Jack explained, "Surface thoughts. Whatever's running through your mind at that particular moment. Not deep secrets or memories. Still, I got the strong impression Dumbledore did it on purpose."

Harry nodded slowly, "Maybe he knew you had a secret..."

"Everyone has something to hide." Jack pointed out, "Don't try to make excuses. He didn't try to hurt me, but it was still incredibly rude."

Harry looked at Jack, balefully, "If I can't trust Professor Dumbledore, who can I trust?"

"I didn't say you shouldn't trust him. Just that I don't... and you'd better not go telling him any of my secrets."

Harry sighed, leaning against Jack's shoulder, thinking about it, "It's not just good and evil anymore, is it?"

"It never was that simple, Harry." Jack said sadly.

Within a minute, Harry seemed to drift off to sleep, arms wrapping around Jack's waist and not letting go. Jack frowned slightly, then after a moment's thought on the matter he mentally shrugged, and slid them both down the bed so they were laying down, careful not to wake the other boy.

Seconds after his head met the pillow, he too was fast asleep.

x x x

The next morning, Jack and Harry were rudely awoken by the horrified shouting of one Ronald Weasley. "_WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?_"

Jack opened one eye, glared, made a very rude hand-gesture, then promptly buried his face in the pillow.

Harry on the other hand, sat up quickly, shocked and thoroughly embarrassed. He scrambled away from Jack, and stammered incoherently for several seconds. Long enough for Jack to reluctantly look up again, entirely unbothered by anything but the fact he had been woken so rudely.

Gwen, Ianto and the terrible twins were standing in the doorway as well.

"_YOU STINKING SLYTHERIN GIT, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HARRY?_" Ron yelled.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Ianto, please tell me you learned that spell for Owen?" he asked hopefully.

Ianto shrugged apologetically.

"What's the problem?" one of the twins asked, looking like this was all just one big joke.

"_THAT HARKNESS FREAK WAS SLEEPING WITH HARRY!_" Ron yelled at the top of his lungs.

Harry directed a dark look at Ron, while Jack grit his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides, only just resisting the urge to physically assault the boy in retaliation for the poor choice of insults. Owen's fork idea sounded good. But 'freak' wouldn't be so deeply offensive to anyone else, would it? There was no way Weasley would know how much that word bothered him.

"_YOU-!_" Ron yelled, pointing at Jack, "_YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF HIM! I KNEW YOU WERE BAD, BUT HE TRUSTED YOU, YOU- YOU- YOU **RAT-BASTARD**!_"

Jack sighed dramatically, "Oh, you're fucking kidding me." he grumbled, holding his head as if the volume was getting painful, "It's too early in the morning for homophobic misconceptions. Kindly sod off, Weasley."

As one, the twins suddenly started laughing, causing Ron to turn his red-faced rage on them.

"Oh, come on, Ronnikins. It's obvious nothing happened." one twin snickered.

"Yeah." the other twin agreed, "We can tell the difference."

The first twin nodded sagely, "You don't share a room with a bloke who's scared of the rubber duck on the windowsill for fifteen years without learning what platonic sleep-cuddling looks like."

The second twin looked thoroughly outraged, "You swore you'd never tell anyone about the rubber duck!"

"Y'know... when a girl fancies him, he's totally oblivious." Gwen pointed out slyly, "I saw him asking Krum to sign his shirt with a lipstick- don't ask me where he got it from- and now he's automatically assuming something had to have happened here-"

"Which it obviously didn't." Ianto put in with a nod of agreement.

"-I think _Ronnikins_ is in denial." Gwen finished, grinning.

Ron spluttered in horrified indignity.

"They're right, Ron." Harry finally managed to say, still flushed with embarrassment anyway, "Nothing happened."

Ron shot Jack a dark look, "Right." he growled darkly, before storming off, shoving Ianto and Gwen out of the way as he went.

"Well he's just a ray of sunshine, isn't he?" Ianto said with mock cheer.

"So why _were_ you two sharing a bed, anyway?" one twin asked brightly.

Harry looked both confused and blank for a moment. He also looked quite wounded at Ron's behaviour.

Jack, meanwhile, simply shrugged, "We were talking about what happened after the Third Task... then the Sleeping Potion kicked in and Harry sort of passed out with his arms around my waist. I didn't want to disturb him."

Harry blushed terribly at this remark, in spite of- or perhaps because of- the fact it was perfectly true.

"Hey, it's perfectly normal to want a hug when you've been through something traumatic." one of the twins said sagely.

"Yeah, rubber duck attack, really on the same level here." the other twin sniped jokingly at his brother.

"If you saw Voldemort come back, that's... well, that must have been terrible." Gwen said gently.

"Nobody likes to witness the resurrection of evil overlords." Jack agreed, "We're all here for you, if you need us."

Ianto gave Jack an odd look, recognising that he was speaking from experience there, "Who? Abaddon? He wasn't an overlord, was he? More like Monster of the Week."

"Not him, someone else." Jack said, shrugging in a dismissive way.

"Who's Abaddon?" Harry asked.

"I told you I slew a demon once..."

Harry laughed weakly. Before he could break down, however, there was a Weasley twin on either side of him, each with a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "Cheer up, Harry. A one-year-old got him last time, how tough can he be?"

"And anyway, you've got us to look after you." the other twin said, putting on a mockingly brave facade that would not have been at all out of place on the portrait of Sir Cadogan.

"No!" Harry snapped, suddenly, standing up and turning on them, "Enough people have died trying to protect me from him, already."

"I think what they meant was emotional support." Ianto suggested calmly. When he had moved to be standing next to Jack was unclear... only that he was there now. "I somehow doubt even they would plan on playing human shield."

"Yeah, emotional support." one twin agreed.

"And firepower." the other added.

"From a distance."

"Practiced snipers, we are."

"Can hit Mrs Norris, in the entrance hall, from the seventh floor balcony."

"With a depilatory spell."

And that did it. Totally shattered the tension in the room, and everyone, even Harry, descended into fits of laughter and the mental pictures of Mrs Norris... suddenly hairless.

x x x


	47. Where Your Loyalties Lie

x x x

**Chapter 47: Where Your Loyalties Lie**

x x x

The prize-giving ceremony was a stilted and cold affair. Rumour had spread of Voldemort's return, and even though that was all it was at this stage- rumour- it still tainted the atmosphere of victory that Hogwarts as a whole should have felt in this event.

Five hundred galleons each. The decorations around the Hall were all for Hogwarts school, not actively favouring either house.

Harry was still in a state of shock as his money and a miniature replica of the Triwizard Cup were handed to him. In spite of all attempts at levity and camaraderie from his friends and allies, he was still taking the return of his nemesis badly. Jack really didn't blame him.

When Bagman presented Jack with the same prize, and shook his hand formally just as he had done for Harry, Jack held his hand just a little longer, leaning forward to whisper, "I'm still buying the twins, and I promise you my debt-collection methods are far worse. If you value your boyish good-looks and the continued use of your legs, you'll talk to me after the ceremony."

Bagman paled considerably, while Jack smiled with perfect innocence and retreated to the Slytherin table.

Speeches were made by Dumbledore, Maxime and Bagman. Dumbledore overtly confirmed the rumours of Voldemort's return. Maxime subtly committed her loyalty to Dumbledore's side in the war, while not so blatantly affirming her belief in it. Bagman prattled inanely.

Jack got bored quickly, and leaned across the table to speak to Draco, "Here. You're in charge of this until I get back to the common room." he handed the trophy to Draco, "Pass it around, show it off and have fun, use it as a prop for drinking games if you like, but throw a big damned party down in the dungeons, because I want to have some fun after I deal with a... small business matter." he looked up as Bagman finished speaking and slunk off.

Draco was stunned, but accepted the responsibility and limelight with predictable eagerness.

And Jack followed Bagman. He caught up to him easily in the entrance hall.

Bagman looked positively terrified, "Look, I don't want money from you." Jack said coldly, "And physical torture gets boring after the first few weeks, so let's just cut to the chase here. You heard what Dumbledore said. Do you believe him?"

"I- I don't really know what you mean."

"Don't lie to me, Ludo!" Jack snapped. Considering he was about a foot shorter than Bagman, Jack was impressed by the man's pure cowardice to be intimidated by what appeared to be a lone and unarmed thirteen-year-old.

"Well, what I mean to say is, I don't know if any of it is true or not. No solid evidence. Fudge denies it. No idea what to make of it all. Seems a bit far-fetched, if you ask me."

"If you had to put money on it...?" Jack suggested slyly.

"Oh." Bagman's eyes widened at this, "Well then I'd bet on it being true. Longer official odds, but certainly wouldn't put it past... well, you know."

Jack nodded slowly, "Well either way, I'd suggest you choose which side you're on very carefully. And should you, perchance, choose to back the official party line, I would be very interested to hear about any policies regarding these _rumours_, before they're made public."

"You- you mean spy? On the Ministry!"

Jack smiled, charmingly dangerous, "I believe the phrase you're looking for, Ludo... is insider trading."

"Well... y-yes, yes. Of- of course."

x x x

The party in the Slytherin common room was impressive. There was a radio playing music that sounded a lot like the Weird Sisters. Plenty of food, and a _lot_ of dancing. Butterbeer for the younger students, and someone had even managed to aquire real alcohol for the sixth and seventh years. Good thing said someone was a Slytherin... because if Owen ever found out how they did that...

"Of course, age-restrictions don't seem to apply to this one!" the eldest member of the Quidditch team laughed, holding out a bottle to Jack.

He blithely dismissed the offered drink, "Who knows what else you put in that, Bletchley!"

Everyone was in high spirits that day. The fact it was shared with Gryffindor entirely failed to detract from this victory, and the miniature Triwizard Cup now sat in pride of place in the common room. The centre of attention. Jack himself backed off into the shadows a little, settling in one of the comfortable chairs furthest from the fireplace, just watching.

Yaxley, Crabbe and Goyle, with Travers and Avery as hangers-on nearby, were gathered in a group, conspiring. Draco had been with them earlier, but had rather quickly wandered off to hang out with Pansy and Blaise instead.

Derrin Harper was glaring at Travers with loathing. "Think's he so tough just cause his daddy's got a criminal record." Harper sulked.

Jack looked up at him, "Who, the Neanderthal?" Tosh's joke had spread and stuck. Nathaniel Travers had for quite some time now been permanently branded with that nickname.

Harper chuckled briefly at the nickname, "Yeah. Whore-spawned skrewt-licking son of a hairy MacBoon."

Jack smirked faintly at the swearing. He didn't even know what that last thing was supposed to be! It was certainly different, but he was still sure that this was just as foul-mouthed as a decaffeinated Owen.

"Well they say the enemy of my enemy is my friend." Jack said carefully.

"You? Gryffindor-lover?" Harper sneered.

"Hey!" Jack protested indignantly. "It's Hufflepuff."

Harper snickered, "Right, okay, so you hate Travers too. So what?"

"What about his... connections?" Jack asked carefully. He knew perfectly well that Yaxley, Avery, Crabbe and Goyle were Voldemort-fans. The low tone of the conversation across the room was suspicious. The conclusion was obvious.

"Huh? Oh. I get it. _That_. Is it true, then?" Harper asked.

Jack shrugged, "I didn't see him... but I wasn't exactly conscious."

"Right. If it were true, hypothetically of course... I'd be fucking terrified." Harper said idly, "I mean seriously, who in all bloody undying hell would want a genocidal maniac running around? I may be pureblood, and damned proud of it by the way, but war still sucks hairy donkey balls."

Jack laughed, "Do you ever stop swearing?"

Harper gave him a very serious look, "Only when my grandmother comes to visit. Smile sweetly and no bullshit for the day. Five Galleons. Make out like a sodding bandit."

"Ah, the pureblood elite... so refined and dignified." Jack sniped.

"Hey, fuck you!" Harper snapped.

"Not right now, thanks." Jack dismissed vaguely. Harper glowered, sulked a little, then stormed off.

"You're cute when you're offending people." Jack looked up to see Theodore Nott leaning over the back of his chair, "Y'know, we- by which I mean the offspring of unholy bigotry meets inbred elitism- all know he's back. You do to, I can tell. Evasive like, with Harper. Very clever."

Jack smirked faintly, "And your point is?"

Theo circled the chair quickly and sat down on the arm, a little too close to Jack to count as innocent, looking down at him, "Well, pick a side?"

"And why should I tell you?" Jack asked, almost enjoying the wordplay as they both danced around the subject.

But then Theo's expression became more serious. He far-too-casually slid closer to Jack, down off the arm of the chair. It was a big chair that was designed for adults, and thus they both fit. Only just. He then leaned in even closer to speak very quietly.

"Let me tell you a little something about my family. My mom was a very kind woman, I only knew her for four years but I know she loved me unconditionally. Made a nice contrast to the authoritarian thing my dad's got going. My mom died in childbirth, gave her life to bring my little sister into the world. But by the time lil' sis is eight it's become pretty clear that she's just not made of the right stuff. Can't do magic. A Squib. Problem with Squibs is, in my family, they tend to be very... accident prone."

Jack inhaled sharply, suddenly realising where this was going.

"Especially beneath crystal chandeliers." Theo continued darkly, and Jack flinched. He actually had been killed by a crystal chandelier one time... it had been surprisingly painful compared to other forms of execution, and certainly not quick as some people seemed to imagine. "Then friends of the family started to get rather forgetful. Her name, her birthday, when they last saw her... that she ever even existed. Hurt me most when her birth certificate got misplaced. I tried to find it, but it seems there was a fire. There's Thestrals out the back of our house. I can see them. D'you know what that means, Harkness?"

"You saw someone die." Jack said quietly.

"Her name was Callista."

Jack looked away, very uncomfortable with this new information.

"So pick a side." Theo repeated, much colder now than the almost gleefully irreverent way he had asked before.

"You already know my answer." Jack said bluntly, "You won't have told me that if you weren't sure."

Theo seemed to relax a little, casually putting an arm around Jack's shoulders, "Damned right I wouldn't. I saw you talking to Potter, all friendly and conspiratorial. Heard You-Know-Who's name, when you were talking. Interesting how people don't notice the sulky loner, isn't it? I just had to be doubly sure you weren't trying to trick the boy-wonder. You flinched. And now I know."

He still sounded a little empty, but it seemed the wound was old and he was able to deal with it. Theo rested his forehead on Jack's shoulder for a second, seeming for a moment like he was genuinely fighting with his own emotions.

"Just because I'll never be a Death Eater, doesn't mean I'm going to go sign up for the goody-two-shoes parade either." he said quietly, slightly muffled by Jack's robes, "But wherever you stand on that, still puts us on the same side." And then suddenly he stood up, looking perfectly composed once more.

He nodded curtly to Jack and then walked away.

Jack stared after him in awe. A child who had always thought the way the Agency had spent years training Jack to act. The young teen, easily overlooked in the crowd and subtle beyond all reason for his age, already actively seeking allies against a phantom war that had yet to really get started.

No wonder Theodore Nott was in Slytherin house.

x x x

It was the last day of term.

Harry Potter and Jack Harkness both approached Albus Dumbledore together, shortly after he left his office to head to the end of term feast. The corridor was deserted... a planned ambush, no less!

Harry looked uncertain, as he conspicuously pocketed a piece of parchment that Albus suspected had once belonged to James Potter. Harkness showed much more self-assurance, purposefully blocking the headmaster's path... but then gesturing for Harry to be the one to speak.

"We'd like to talk to you before the feast, sir." Harry said nervously.

"Oh yes?" Albus asked, carefully watching them both.

Since the beginning of the tournament, these two boys had gone from wary enmity- interestingly enough mostly on Harry's part- to almost complete trust. Especially after the Third Task.

He had observed Harkness' behaviour during the tournament as amicable rivalry, rather than the more committed loathing that his housemates had displayed, but he had never imagined before the final task that the two boys would cooperate so readily.

Perhaps most strangely, however, the dynamic of their new friendship lent Harkness the position of authority usually reserved for the elder, or at least wiser. Certainly the more self-confident of the two, he had become rather protective of Harry over the last few days. Almost as if, in spite of his youth, he was subconsciously filling the role of older brother.

A fascinating turn of events which- though he would never admit aloud- made Albus somewhat jealous. Having cared for Harry, over the last four years, almost as if he felt the boy were his own son, now a new authority figure had presented itself.

"And what is it you would like to discuss?" he asked cheerfully.

Harkness took up the argument, now, "Considering the more positive results of the Triwizard Tournament, namely a Hogwarts victory, we thought it might be beneficial to morale, to make a suggestion regarding the School Cup as well."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked, "And that request might be?"

"The tournament was about international magical cooperation." Harry explained, "But both our houses have been at each other's throats this whole time."

"We would never presume to try to influence a person in a position of power such as yourself, Headmaster." Jack said quite slyly, "But the fact we shared the tournament victory was well-received by both sides. Far better than either one of us winning alone could have been taken by the other's house."

Albus smiled in quiet bemusement at this. Harkness was displaying a great deal more confidence than Harry, clearly trying to take control of the situation without leaving Harry out... and he was doing an excellent job of it. "Are you suggesting that I, ah, 'fix' the House Cup to a tie?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." Jack said, grinning brightly. The poorly feigned innocence was deliberate, almost playful in fact, and Albus was quite sure that he would have great difficulty spotting a real lie from the boy. It may even require active Legilimency to do so.

"Slytherin, currently resting in second place, would be the house to benefit from such a turn of events." Albus pointed out, almost idly.

"We both think the whole school would benefit, in the long run." Harry answered, gaining confidence as he realised this plan of theirs was actually going rather well.

"Indeed?" Albus asked, "Such an admirable display of cooperation, and awareness of the bigger picture. Very well." he turned to look at Harkness, "Am I to assume this was your idea, Mr Harkness?"

The younger boy nodded, "Yes sir."

"I do believe that warrants an award of, let me see..." he paused, checking one of three watches he wore, "Precisely seventeen points to Slytherin house, for such a worthy suggestion."

Both boys looked at each other, and grinned. Seventeen points did indeed bring them up to a tie. They turned to face the headmaster, "Thank you, sir." they said in unison.

x x x

It felt so completely wrong, to Jack. Being at Hogwarts without a wand. Even the simplest charms the other students used every day were no longer an option to him. It felt just as wrong to him as the very idea of going out Weevil-hunting without a gun.

Ianto had told him on several occasions that he should just go and buy a new one from Diagon Alley, but Jack really was reluctant to do this. He had no idea why, but he had developed a strong attachment to the magical weapon and didn't want to just go get a new one. He tried to explain it by asking, "What if we lost the Pterodactyl? Would you just go out and get a new one?"

To which Ianto has just stared blankly at him. No, he really didn't get it.

So it was that upon arriving home from Hogwarts, Jack immediately got to work.

Now, he sat at a computer, in Cardiff. His past-self, and Sirius Black were both watching him work intently. The rest of the team had made themselves elsewhere. Jack was scary when he was on a mission, and not even Ianto wanted to get in his way.

The Internet was a much more primitive beast in this decade, but he had managed to find a registry of death certificates, searched for the name Tom Riddle some time about fifty years ago, and after a lot of effort he had succeeded in wheedling the search down to some small town cemetery in the north of England.

"Okay, let's go." Jack said, standing up and holding a hand out to Sirius. Sirius took both his hand and his past-self's hand, and then suddenly with a sickening sensation of being squeezed through a hosepipe- entirely unlike Vortex travel where you could almost feel yourself being disassembled and reassembled atom by atom- they found themselves on the outskirts of said small town.

Neither version of Jack stumbled or appeared ruffled at all. "Not your first time?"

"Teleporting, no. Apparating, yes." Jack's past-self said idly.

"And you have to teach me to do that, by the way." Jack added to Sirius.

"Not legal 'til you're seventeen." Sirius said dismissively.

"Says the unregistered Animagus." Jack sniped, smirking, "You _will_ teach me to Apparate, right?"

Sirius shrugged vaguely, "Fine, if you insist."

"According to the records, it's near the old manor house, to the west of town." Jack said calmly, pointing to what most certainly looked like an old manor house. The only even vaguely impressive building in the entire area.

They started walking, Jack in the lead. His past-self had a hand on his gun, just in case. Sirius- forcibly dressed in Muggle clothes- kept shooting wary looks at the weapon, blatantly uneasy.

Jack wholly empathised with him. Only two weeks without his wand- and his past-self not letting him have a gun, either- and he already felt exposed and vulnerable. Sirius had been without the only weapon and most useful tool any wizard could want for over twelve years.

"Muggle technology is _good_." Sirius said brightly, "I shall never underestimate a computer again."

"Yeah, it's best that you don't. The sentient ones are positively dangerous." Jack said.

Sirius gave him a wary look, when he realised that he wasn't joking.

"Stay close, Black." past-Jack ordered from behind, "If there's still any hostiles here, we're going to want to get out fast. I don't want a fire-fight in a small town."

"And we don't want _them_ to know the kid who dropped the wand is still alive." Jack added, smirking, "Although I did land face-down in the dirt, I doubt they'll recognise me... never can be too paranoid."

"Hence the cunning disguise, I take it." Sirius teased. To a wizard it probably _was_ the height of espionage attire, but Jack's 'cunning disguise' was just jeans and a hooded sweater. He had been in a hurry, and stealing Owen's 'Muggle' clothes had been convenient.

It took them ten minutes to walk up past the old manor house, to the graveyard.

"Yeah, this looks like where it happened." Sirius said darkly, as they arrived at what was clearly considered a crime scene, complete with police tape.

"Bloody grave-robbers. It's a damned shame." a nearby policeman declared, irritably.

"I'll say. Not even takin' the valuables." a more familiar voice grumbled, "An' people're sayin' it were no-good kids. This piss-hole of a town ain't got none!"

"Archie?" past-Jack asked, slightly stunned.

"Oi, what the buggering hell! Cardiff thinks it's stormin' up here, now, too, I'll bet?" Archie yelled, turning on Jack. He was a very gruff older man, with grizzled hair that still had a few streaks of its original dark red, and he wore- among other dreadfully unwashed clothing- a kilt. "I jus' chased off those sons o' bitches from London, an' now they're sendin' you af'er me an' all?"

"Fuck Cardiff." past-Jack declared, disgusted, "This is personal. Did you find any unusual artefacts laying around, Archie?"

"Nah, nothing special." Archie evaded blatantly.

"Really, Archie?" Jack stepped in front of his past-self, pulling back the hood to show his face, "Not, oh, say, a wand left lying on the ground? Maybe near evidence of a curse-fight?"

Archie stared from one Jack to the other, dumbstruck for a moment, before shaking his head, "Damn, I need a drink." he grumbled, "An' you, '_kid_'. Gryffindor colours? That's a laugh."

"He stole the clothes from a Gryffindor." Sirius put in unhelpfully. Archie didn't even bat an eye at the wanted criminal consorting with Jack Harkness (_two_ Jack Harknesses, even). He must be all out of surprise by now.

"Ah, I'll bet 'e did." Archie laughed, "After sleepin' with 'im an' all."

"Fuck you, Archie, did you find my wand or not?" Jack snapped.

"Aye, I did." Archie turned around and rooted through a bag emblazoned with the Torchwood logo and the words '**EVIDENCE, PROPERTY OF THE CITY OF GLASGOW**'. He pulled out a chunk of stone that looked like it came off the wing of one of the statues here, a bloodied rag, and a jar of dirt, before finally producing the wand. "Here we go. Now, Jack-" he turned around and held up the wand, "You owe me for this."

"Oh yeah?" past-Jack asked, eyeing Archie up blatantly. The fact that Archie was in no way attractive did nothing to discourage him.

"Not like that, ya weirdo." Archie snapped, waving him off, "I want in on whatever's going down. It's big, I can tell."

"Ask Harry Potter." Jack said bluntly.

"Bloody bollocksing hell." Archie gasped, staggering backwards and knocking the bit of stone onto the ground as he did so, "It's true then? What the Prophet's sayin' he's lyin' about? He ain't lyin', is he?"

"That's right." Jack said, snatching his wand back from Archie's now unresisting hand, "And you're more than welcome to help, when we figure out how you can."

"Aye, I'll be doin' that." Archie nodded weakly, "Thanks fer the heads up." Jack nodded curtly, and turned to leave... but, "One more thing, though." Jack looked back, to see Archie staring at Sirius. "Him?"

Sirius flipped him off.

Jack just shrugged vaguely, "Like I said... ask Harry Potter."

x x x


	48. The Dementor's Kiss

x x x

**Chapter 48: The Dementor's Kiss**

x x x

Jack and Gwen had spent the summer keeping tabs on Harry Potter, while the others continued to bash their heads against the metaphorical brick wall of trying to understand the crystal that had brought them here, almost two years ago now.

It seemed the popular thing to do, stalking Harry Potter. The Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix _and_ the Ministry of Magic were all keeping an eye on the young hero. The Torchwood team figured they should get in on this before someone else did something that might actually hurt the boy.

So it was that Gwen and Jack found themselves on Magnolia Crescent, just after sunset, following Harry and his cousin as they returned to their home on Privet Drive. The two teenagers were arguing quite spitefully as they walked, everything from Harry insulting Dudley's nicknames to Dudley insulting magic in general.

"Not this brave at night, are you?" Dudley was sneering.

"This is night, Diddykins." Harry taunted, "That's what we call it when it goes all dark like this."

Dudley stopped walking abruptly, and turned to face Harry, who also stopped as Dudley snapped at him, "I mean when you're in bed!"

"This just got interesting..." Jack muttered, genuinely unsure if he was joking or if he should worry that Dudley could be thinking along the same lines as he usually did. Either way, the comment earned him an elbow to the ribs from Gwen.

"What d'you mean, I'm not brave when I'm in bed?" Harry asked, clearly confused, "What am I supposed to be frightened of, pillows or something?"

"The bogeyman..." Gwen whispered, "Boggart... Jack Harkness..."

"All one and the same." Jack muttered, ignoring her confused look, in favour of paying attention to this confrontation.

"I heard you last night." Dudley pointed out, almost victoriously, "Talking in your sleep. Moaning."

"Should we let them know we're listening to this?" Gwen asked, edging back into the shadows a bit more.

"Hell no, not yet." Jack retorted.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, tense, and by the look on his face, getting a bit angry.

Dudley laughed darkly, and put on a high-pitched whiney voice, "'Don't kill Jack! Don't kill Jack!' Who's Jack, your boyfriend?" Dudley taunted. Gwen snorted at this suggestion.

"I'm pretty sure he's some other guy's boyfriend, actually." Harry sniped in retaliation.

"Oh, thanks a lot, Harry." Jack said in a loud and sardonic tone as he stepped out of where he and Gwen had been hiding. He didn't particularly mind the snide remark, only the unfriendly company it had been made in. Dudley Dursley did not give the impression of being the tolerant type.

"This him?" Dudley asked, backing away warily. Gwen appeared next to Jack, grinning smugly. Dudley was beginning to realise he was outnumbered, since his minions had gone home for the night, "Are they- are they freaks, like you?"

"Freak?" Jack asked, rolling his eyes, "Oh, I hate that word." he said glowering darkly at Dudley. The gleam in his eyes was dangerous, threatening even, and Dudley backed up into the wall of the alleyway he and Harry had just turned down.

"G-get away from me, you freak!" he yelled.

Jack sneered, laughing darkly, "I've not even admitted I'm a wizard yet, and you're shaking like you're facing the Master himself." he crowed cruelly.

Harry blinked, staring at Jack with confusion and slight fear at the name Jack had just used. Harry could tell it was a bad thing, obviously... but must have assumed it was a genuinely reverent title for Voldemort, rather than its true and far more frightening nature.

"What are you two doing here, anyway?" Harry snapped, "Stalking me?"

"We're not the only ones, if it makes you feel any better." Gwen offered in a placating tone.

"Yeah. Everyone else was doing it. We felt left out." Jack agreed distractedly, as he continued to intimidate Dudley, in spite of being almost a foot shorter than the Muggle boy.

Gwen frowned, giving Jack a disapproving look, "Jack, leave the kid alone."

But then a wave of icy cold air washed over them all. Dudley shuddered and gasped in shock at the sudden drop in temperature. Jack flinched, his hand moving to his head.

"Oh no." Gwen whispered, her breath misting in the air before her.

"Wh-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!" Dudley cried with horror.

"We're not doing anything!" Harry yelled at his cousin, "Shut up and don't move!"

"I c-can't see!" Dudley cried out, "I've g-gone blind! I-"

"I said shut up!" Harry snapped.

Jack looked around, "Fuck." he swore, in a breathless whisper, "Speak of the devil isn't supposed to really make him appear." his eyes landed on the far end of the alleyway, between them and Privet Drive.

"Jack?" Gwen asked warily.

"Bad memories..." he whispered in response to her.

"Dementor." Harry said, following his gaze fearfully.

The maniacal laughter echoing in Jack's head now made him shudder as he turned to face Harry. "Is there another way around?" he asked urgently.

Harry glanced at him, "Y-yeah, two blocks that way, down Wisteria Walk."

Jack grabbed Dudley's arm and tried to drag him away, in that direction... to absolutely no effect. Then he heard the click of a gun's safety coming off, "Start walking, Dursley!" Gwen snarled with venom. She had pulled a gun out of... well, even Jack wasn't sure where.

Dudley was shaking, but obeyed the command, now staring at the gun as he allowed Jack to drag him towards Wisteria Walk. Harry hesitated for a moment, then turned to run after them... but the chill in the air doubled in its intensity, causing them all to cringe in fear.

Gwen gasped in shock, and Jack turned to look behind them, past Dudley, to see the Dementor swooping down the alley far faster than any natural being.

"_RUN, FATASS!_" Jack yelled, letting go of Dudley's arm and shoving his shoulder, "_RUN!_" Dudley turned and pelted off towards the safe end of the alleyway, stumbling and slipping on the suddenly icy ground as he did so. "Gwen, go!" he pushed her after Dudley, and she obeyed his order, running off as fast as she could.

But before Jack could follow her, the horrific memories that the Dementors invoked in him flooded back to the front of his mind in spite of his best efforts to repress them. That cruel laughter... the months of torture, both physical and mental... it was too much and he fell to his knees gasping for air that was so cold it felt like it burned his lungs.

He distantly heard Harry's voice shout out, a cry of shock, and a thump of a body hitting the ground near him, followed by vague swearing.

Then Jack felt ice on his neck, frozen bones gripping his throat and pulling him up to his feet. He shuddered violently as the Master's maniacally laughing face faded from his immediate perception... and he was confronted with something infinitely more terrible.

The face of a Dementor.

No one was supposed to see that and survive in any fit state to tell about it.

The Dementor leaned its hideous and disfigured face closer to Jack's, intent on performing its soul-destroying Kiss. Eyes wide open, to prevent his mind from falling back into the nightmares this creature conjured by its mere presence, and focusing as hard as he could on what he was doing, Jack bit his own lips together hard.

He tried to push it away, tried to turn his head away to the side, even tried to cover his face with his hands, but it was inhumanly strong, and its grip was firm as steel.

Just as he felt its icy and scabbed lips press against his face, around his mouth, he also heard a voice yelling, from impossibly far away, "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

It felt like an eternity, tensed and resisting as best he could against the unnatural grip and suction of the Dementor's Kiss... he could taste blood where he bit so hard into his own lips, and then suddenly with a flash of brilliant silver-white light he was released.

He fell to the ground, still biting his lips together, inhaling deep breaths of relief through his nose instead... and stared in awe as the luminous form of a proud stag tossed the Dementor up into the air on its antlers, before driving it away completely.

Harry was at his side in an instant, "Harkness?" he asked urgently, and when Jack didn't react immediately Harry yelled, "Jack!"

Jack met his eyes with silent shock, before turning his head to one side and spitting out blood. "I've had better." he gasped weakly, retreating behind this usual mask of arrogance, innuendo and false cheer.

"You scared me half to death!" Harry yelped, thumping him hard on the shoulder, "I thought it had got you!"

"So did I..." Jack muttered, tentatively running his tongue over the self-inflicted wounds on the inside of his mouth, "What was that spell?"

"Patronus charm." Harry explained, helping him to sit up, "Merlin, you look terrible!"

"Feel it, too." Jack grinned weakly, not feeling even the least hint of the emotion he was consciously forcing himself to show, "We should find the others... make sure they're okay."

x x x

"Th-that's a gun!" Dudley stammered, as he and Gwen stumbled onto Privet Drive.

"Yeah." Gwen admitted, holding it up in the light of a streetlamp, "Won't turn you into a toad, or a pig... or an intelligent person. Did what I needed it to, though."

"And that's what?" Dudley demanded, eyeing the weapon now, a bit more covetously than Gwen would like.

"Made you run away from the Dementor." Gwen said bluntly.

"The what?"

"That thing back there. It was a Dementor." Gwen said slowly and clearly, as plainly as she could, "If it gets you, it'll suck out your _soul_." Dudley did not seem to get it. "That's a bad thing." she added for emphasis.

Unfortunately, Gwen had made a crucial mistake. She had lowered her gun. Dudley hadn't comprehended the threat of the Dementor, but he certainly understood the gun... and now he lunged forward, grabbed it from her and pointed it at her.

Gwen stared wide-eyed as he pointed it at her, "Oh, you're kidding!" she protested, "I just saved your _life!_"

Dudley shook his head, "You're one of them. A freak like Potter! What'd you do to me?"

She rolled her eyes, "We just saved your life from a dangerous magical creature. I can tell now that it was a mistake, I should have left you to its mercy... oh wait, I forgot... Dementors don't know the meaning of the word!"

"You're lying!" Dudley stammered, pointing the gun down to the ground and pulling the trigger. He meant to scare her, but all that happened was a popping noise and a flag with the word 'BANG' written on it appeared out of the end of the gun.

Gwen grinned sheepishly, "Realistic, huh?"

Dudley glowered darkly, "Just 'cause I ain't hit a girl before, doesn't mean I won't start now."

But just as Gwen was about to challenge him to dare try it, she heard footsteps, and looked up to see Jack and Harry running her way... closely followed by an old woman. The woman was wearing slippers, and a dress that might have been fashionable in the fifties, and carrying a string shopping bag. She didn't appear to be a threat, simply struggling to keep up with the boys rather than pursuing them.

Harry pointed his wand at Dudley, now, "Leave her alone." he ordered, and the Muggle immediately backed off out of fear. Gwen stared at this strange woman with uncertainty, for several seconds, until Harry laughed shakily, "A fake?" he asked, indicating the gun in Dudley's sweaty fist.

"Yeah... I tried to get a real one, but Jack here can be a right tight-arse about giving dangerous weapons to children." Gwen sniped.

Jack raised an eyebrow at that remark, but didn't retaliate. Gwen actually looked at him now, and saw that he was pale as death itself. Not that she would know... but Suzie Costello had set a pretty good benchmark.

"Hurry now, we haven t got time to stand around!" the old woman called to them, "Got to get you all back home and safe. Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"

"This Mundungus has been following me?" Harry asked, turning on the old woman, "Hang on, it was him! He Disapparated from the front of my house!"

"Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd stationed Mr Tibbies under a car just in case, and Mr Tibbies came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone- and now- oh, what's Dumbledore going to say?"

The way this woman talked was disturbingly fast, in Gwen's opinion... although Jack seemed to gravitate slightly towards her, the more she talked... as if the speed of chatter was of some comfort to him.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but who are you?" Gwen asked, confused.

She glanced quickly at the fact Gwen was holding her wand aimed determinedly in Dudley's direction, now, as well, and nodded sharply at this before speaking, "Name's Arabella Figg. Not a witch, a Squib." she shot a sideways look at Harry as if tired of explaining it already.

"You know Dumbledore?" Harry asked, gaping at her in utter shock.

"Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't know Dumbledore?" Arabella asked, shocked at the suggestion.

"Most Muggles." Gwen observed nervously.

Arabella eyed her with an almost amused, but very evaluating stare, "We need to get indoors right now." she said sharply, "I'll be no help if they come back, I've never so much as transfigured a teabag."

Gwen jabbed Dudley with her wand, "Move." she ordered, and he did so, looking quite thoroughly lost.

"And keep your wands out, all of you." Arabella said sharply as she led them down the street, "Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg." she shook her head, "Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, this was exactly what Dumbledore was afraid of."

Gwen tried to exchange an exasperated look with Jack, at the fact the woman just kept on talking, but Jack was staring almost blankly ahead, giving the strong impression that it was costing him a great deal of effort just to make sure that one foot went in front of the other where it was supposed to.

"Oh my word, when Dumbledore hears about this!" Arabella continued, "How could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight... where is he? How am I going to tell Dumbledore what's happened? I can't Apparate!"

"I've got an owl, you can borrow her." Harry offered, but Arabella shook her head.

"Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible, the Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words."

"But I was getting rid of Dementors, I had to use magic!" Harry exclaimed, stunned that he was likely to get into trouble for this, "They're going to be more worried about what Dementors were doing floating around Wisteria Walk, surely?"

"Oh, my dear, I wish it were so." Arabella said sadly.

"How exactly do they detect underage magic?" Gwen asked, curiously.

Arabella glanced at her, that same evaluating look, then shook her head, "Never did quite fathom it myself, but they always know when a spell's been cast, and where."

"Few years ago, a House Elf did a spell and I got the blame." Harry muttered darkly.

"Maybe they detect the presence of humans capable of magic and if there's no adult wizard around they jump to conclusions?" Gwen suggested.

"May well be." Arabella said with an uncertain shrug that caused the string bag she carried to clank noisily, "No adult wizard around this way, right now, anyhow, not since that Mundungus Fletcher took off, oh when I get my hands on him-" a loud crack echoed through the street, closely followed by Arabella's enraged yelling of, "_MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!_"

Judging by that, the short, scraggly, and generally very unkempt man who had appeared out of thin air was most probably Mundungus Fletcher. He stank to high heaven of cheap booze and smoke.

"S'up, Figgy?" he slurred slightly, before glancing at Harry, Dudley, Jack and Gwen in confusion. Dudley, whose eyes had gone wide like saucers, was clearly struggling between the instinct to run away from this man who had appeared out of thin air, or obey the command of the girl jabbing the small of his back with a magic wand. "What 'appened to staying undercover?" Mundungus asked.

"I'll give you undercover!" Arabella shrieked, "Dementors, you useless, skiving sneak thief!"

Mundungus stared blankly at her, "Dementors?" he asked, stunned, "Dementors, 'ere?"

"Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here! Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!" Arabella yelled with venom. Most amusingly, Dudley was suddenly showing more fear of her, in spite of the fact she'd admitted to having no magical power whatsoever.

"Blimey," Mundungus muttered, practically dumbstruck, "Blimey, I-"

"And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go? Didn't I!" Arabella insisted angrily.

"I- well, I- It- it was a very good business opportunity, see-" he stammered.

But then out of the corner of her eye, Gwen saw Jack starting to sway, "Jack!" she shouted, just as he fell to the ground... only just catching himself with his hands on the pavement rather than his face.

Gwen was at his side in an instant, and the moment she stopped threatening Dudley, the Muggle boy tore off down the road, away from them. Harry watched him go for a couple of seconds, before joining Gwen. She glanced up in the direction Dudley had fled, and Harry shrugged, "He knows the way home... I think."

She nodded sharply, and checked Jack... his pulse was racing, and he was breaking out in a cold sweat, skin like ice. She pulled him into a protective hug, and the very fact he allowed her to do so in front of other people was a sign of just how badly he was hurting.

"Blimey, wh-what happened to him?" Mundungus asked, gaping at Jack.

"I didn't see, what with the fact Squibs can't see Dementors." Arabella snarled at Mundungus, "But he was with Harry when they attacked."

"He was walkin' when I got here... so 's probably just shock." Mundungus said, trying to sound reasonable and reassuring... and failing.

"You!" Arabella yelled at him, "Get goin' and tell Dumbledore what's happened, right this instant!"

Mundungus frowned for a moment, "What about him?" he asked, "Don't he need to go to St Mungo's, or somethin'?"

"You are _not_ Apparating with passengers, in your state!" Arabella snapped. He seemed to accept this with a dour nod, and disappeared with a whip-cracking sound.

Gwen looked up at Arabella, "What do we do about Jack? We _do_ need to get him to a hospital."

She felt him suddenly grip her hand, "I'm okay, Gwen." he gasped weakly.

"That lie has never worked on me, Jack Harkness." Gwen said coldly, "What makes you think now will be any different?"

He choked out a pained laugh, and shook his head weakly as she insisted on holding him even tighter, more protectively. She was terrified of what had attacked them, and doubly so of the thought that it might actually be capable of permanently finishing him off in a way death itself never seemed able to.

Then very suddenly two practically synchronised whip-cracks sounded in the air and a pair of hooded figures were standing on either side of them. Gwen looked up immediately defensive, her wand aimed at the nearest one, and Harry followed suit.

A familiar laugh cut her short from attempting to curse them, however, as the nearest one knelt next to them, "It's only us." Fred-or-George Weasley said quickly.

"Got word someone needed a lift to hospital." the other twin said, kneeling next to his brother. Neither bothered to remove their hoods to show their faces, however. "Had to see for ourselves, didn't we?"

"What's the damage, then?" the first twin asked.

"You two can Apparate, now?" Harry asked, stunned... but he was rather rudely ignored as the first twin waved a wand over Jack like it was scanning him.

"Ooo, nasty." he said with a hissing intake of breath.

"Can you hear us, Harkness?" the other asked. Jack nodded weakly. "Impressive... I think Padfoot might not be as much of a big fat liar as we thought."

"Incorrigible, this one." the first twin agreed.

"Alright, Miss Cooper." the first twin said with a grin, offering her a hand, "Want a ride?"

"I've got you, Harkness." the other said, pulling him away from Gwen, and into what looked like a tight hug. Gwen stared in surprise as the Weasley twin and Jack both disappeared in exactly the same way as Mundungus had done.

She looked to the remaining twin, sceptically raising an eyebrow at his offered hand, then glanced at Harry and Arabella as if asking their advice.

"Go on, dear." Arabella said, "You need to get away from here quickly, and I don't even have a Floo connection I'm afraid."

Gwen tentatively glanced at the offered hand once more, and the owner of said hand grinned under his hooded cloak. It was kinda creepy to see those mischievous hazel eyes and perfect teeth shining out from under the shadowy and otherwise all-concealing cloak. Kind of like the Cheshire Cat from Alice In Wonderland. "Won't hurt at all, I promise. First time can be a bit uncomfortable, though."

Gwen giggled almost hysterically, and took his hand, "You should've said that while-"

A sudden twisting sensation in her gut and then the world closed in around her, so tightly that she couldn't move, or even breathe for a second... and then with a snap and a sudden gasp for air, she found herself standing in the middle of what looked like a rather old-fashioned hospital waiting room.

"-Jack was still here." she finished, distantly, staring around in surprise. "Um... where _is_ Jack?"

"Probably in emergency admissions already." the Weasley twin said with a slight frown, "Those healers get a scan of his face, and there's no way Harry's getting punished for a Patronus charm."

"W-why?" Gwen asked, nervously.

The twin turned to grin at her. "First base with a Dementor, and still around to talk about it."

"Well... it _is_ Jack..." Gwen muttered distractedly.

x x x


	49. The Ministry Of Magic Are Morons

x x x

**Chapter 49: The Ministry Of Magic Are Morons**

x x x

It had been ten days now- well, nine and a half if you're picky, which Ianto was, but the calendar said ten- since Jack's past-self had received a letter from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, explaining that he was being treated for severe trauma, and would be under observation for two weeks.

Now the entire Torchwood team were assembled in the hospital lobby, to greet him as he was released early. Ridiculously early in the morning, too. The second letter had explained why that would be happening... he was wanted as a witness in a trial against Harry Potter, for casting magic in the presence of a Muggle.

Apparently, this was a most grievous offence.

The medi-witch escorting Jack was obviously not pleased with the situation. Much like Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts, she must want to keep an eye on the patient until she was certain he was fully recovered.

The place was mostly deserted, so the group of young students gathered to greet Jack went mostly unnoticed. In fact, only two other wizards were there. One had a golf umbrella growing out of his left ear... the other was unconscious, with a pointy hat hiding his face and newspaper over his chest, either drunk or out cold from some legitimate magical ailment, it was impossible to tell.

"Oh, thank god you're alright, Jack!" Gwen said, rushing to his side and hugging him.

He hugged her back easily, that fairy-tale-hero smile only looking slightly awkward as he did so, "I told you I was fine."

"We missed you." Tosh pointed out, and the other three nodded. Owen did so while trying not to look like he cared, even though they knew he really did, while Gwen and Ianto were more enthusiastic.

"Now, there's to be no strenuous exercise or magical exertion- then again, you're only thirteen so you shouldn't be casting spells outside of school in any case." the medi-witch informed Jack, "You need to take at least one large mug of hot chocolate a day for another two weeks, and if you know anyone who can cast a good cheering charm I would strongly advise-"

"I know." Jack interrupted a bit sharply, "I'm sorry." he continued in a more charming tone, "But you're the fourth healer who's told me this, this morning alone... and it's only seven thirty!" He managed to look like his usual cheerful self... in fact, if Ianto hadn't known Jack better than that, even he might have fallen for the 'I'm fine' act.

The medi-witch, however, was quite completely taken in by his charming and brave act, "Of course, dear." she said smiling, "It's just this Ministry decision to hold a trial in which a key witness really ought to still be hospitalised. Really gets my goat."

The wizard under the newspaper and pointy hat snorted, scratched himself inappropriately, and then began to snore loudly.

Jack gave the man a brief, odd glance, then nodded to the medi-witch, "Yeah... I agree, but I do need to be there, and if they won't wait for me..." He shrugged, and with one last smile at her, while she shooed him off towards the floo grate, he turned and led Gwen back over to the rest of the team.

Still tangled up with Gwen's attempt to hug the life out of him, Jack awkwardly wrapped an arm around Tosh for a brief hug, before managing to pull free of Gwen's grip and letting both girls go. The false grin was still firmly in place, and even came close to reaching his eyes.

"You sure you're alright, mate?" Owen asked sceptically, as he patted Jack's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie.

"I've been prescribed hot chocolate, how could I not be alright with that?" Jack laughed in response.

It was Ianto's turn to hug Jack now, and when he did so Jack almost strangled him with his enthusiasm. Grinning and blushing, Ianto squirmed out of the tight grip and kissed Jack quickly on the lips.

The next thing Ianto really knew he was landing painfully on his back, clattering into a couple of the seats in the waiting room and hitting his head as he did so. Only then did what had happened registered in his brain.

Jack had hit him!

He had shoved him away and struck him across the face... hard.

He looked up at Jack, utterly horrified... only to see the same emotion crossing Jack's face as well. "Oh god, Ianto, I'm sorry!"

Within moments the medi-witch who had been seeing Jack off was at Ianto's side. A muttered spell he didn't quite hear and he felt a sharp sting in his lip... it must have been bleeding, and she'd healed it. He didn't really care. He was still staring at Jack in shock.

He vaguely made out the medi-witch going on about, "-should have warned you-" and "-so young I didn't think-" and she was even apologising as if it was her fault somehow. It just didn't click in Ianto's mind.

"I'm sorry." Jack repeated, clearly shaken. He had one hand over his mouth, staring at Ianto with... was that fear?

"Pretty normal reaction to the kind of psychological trauma he's been through... I coulda told you that one, tea-boy." Owen muttered darkly, "Wouldn't be trying CPR on him any time soon, either."

The medi-witch turned now to look at Owen with a confused frown, "C... P... R?" she asked.

"Muggle thing." Owen answered shortly, "Does the same thing as a cardio-rennervation spell and re-oxygenation charm." The woman still quite clearly did not get it. "The more common term is 'mouth-to-mouth resuscitation'."

This at least explained Owen's remark about CPR in this context to her, even if she was still unsure about exactly how it worked in general. She didn't seem to really take in the fact that a thirteen-year-old was talking about medicine like an expert.

Ianto hissed slightly, as he moved to stand, feeling a sprain in his wrist where he'd landed a bit too hard on it. Nothing else felt injured- except maybe his pride- and he quickly picked himself up, staring at Jack with hurt and some degree of resentment. He had finally gotten up the courage to kiss Jack in public for the first time since they'd been de-aged, and he'd been rejected. Quite dramatically, too.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Ianto." Jack insisted.

Ianto did understand what Owen had said... it was because of the Dementor. The Dementor had nearly performed its worse-than-fatal Kiss on Jack, and so it should be perfectly understandable that Jack would react badly. Ianto _should_ have thought of that before he had done it.

But that didn't change the fact that Jack had hit him.

He looked down at the ground, not answering Jack's pleading and apologetic look. "You're going to be late for the hearing..." he said slightly shakily, "We should go."

x x x

Jack entered the hearing room alone, having been instructed to leave the rest of the team waiting in the lobby of the Ministry. It was a few minutes before eight o'clock, which was the time he had been told to arrive. He stopped just inside the door, and stared around the room, getting the unsettling feeling that this was more of an inquisition than a fair trial.

Especially from the look of that ominous chair in the middle of the room... with all the chains around the arms. Oh, the Master would've loved that... hmm, so would John, for that matter.

"Ah, Mr Harkness." the familiar voice of Minister Fudge greeted him, as the man himself hurried down from a podium, wearing formal robes that seemed suited to a judge... and didn't quite fit him. "So glad you could make it. I heard about the incident, that you were involved in this confrontation with Harry Potter. Of course, it's an open and shut case, really. Underage magic is bad enough, but in front of a Muggle-" he shook his head dramatically, "Oh my, no."

Jack frowned, getting the strong impression Fudge wanted him to agree with this. He carefully held back the sarcasm he wanted to employ, as he answered, "Of course, Muggles don't deserve to know anything at all, do they?"

"Quite right, young man, quite right." Fudge said cheerfully, "And I'm sure you've heard the stories. Harry Potter is quite the loose cannon. An example needs to be made."

Jack nodded slowly, pretending to agree.

"You're a valuable witness, Mr Harkness." Fudge explained, "You saw what happened, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did." Jack said with another nod.

"And you're here to testify against Harry Potter." Fudge beamed cheerfully at him, patted him on the shoulder... and rather than waiting for an answer, he turned and walked off.

"Of course I am." Jack muttered darkly, as he slumped against a nearby wall, and watched the rest of the adult wizards chatter in anticipation of this farce they were plotting.

Time passed, and nothing much happened. The assembled officials were beginning to get edgy and impatient, when the door finally opened and Harry Potter entered the room. He seemed shocked, staring around with wide-eyed fear, as the solid door shut firmly behind him.

"You're late." Fudge snapped at Harry, who immediately jumped, tearing his frightened gaze away from the chair with all those chains.

"Sorry," he said shakily, "I- I didn't know the time had been changed."

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault." Fudge retorted sharply, "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."

Jack watched the hesitation and practically blind terror on Harry's face as he slowly approached the chair and perched on the edge of it.

"Very well." Fudge announced, "The accused being present- finally- let us begin." He looked to his right, to a red-head that looked like he was there for the sole purpose of taking notes. Jack recognised him as Mr Crouch's personal ass-kisser from the Yule Ball. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir." the red-head answered eagerly.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August." Fudge announced clearly, and the red-head studiously scribbled on his parchment, "Into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley-" Another Weasley?

Fudge, however, was interrupted by a soft but clear voice from the doorway, "Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

The man himself strode gracefully across the floor of the courtroom, very efficiently projecting the air of one who believed he owned the place. Dumbledore spared a brief glance for Jack, who avoided his gaze more out of habit than anything else.

"Ah." Fudge stammered slightly. Apparently Dumbledore had not been invited. "Dumbledore. Yes. You- er- got our er- message that the time and- er- place of the hearing had been changed, then?"

"I must have missed it." Dumbledore said brightly, "However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done." Jack forced down the smirk that wanted to plaster itself over his face at the way the old man so blithely dismissed the blatant attempt at subterfuge to keep him at bay.

"Yes, well." Fudge blustered, "I suppose we'll need another chair- I- Weasley, could you-?"

"Not to worry, not to worry." Dumbledore said, happily drawing his wand and conjuring a far-too-cushy armchair for himself. He settled there, looking perfectly comfortable. It was a terrible affront to the Minister, and Jack couldn't help but approve, even if he didn't allow it to show on his face.

The rest of the wizards there were chattering anxiously, now. Only one of the four people Fudge had named was showing any positive reaction to Dumbledore's presence. Amelia Bones, who was sitting just to the Minister's left. Jack watched her carefully, now, as Fudge spoke again.

"Yes. Well, then. So. The charges. Yes." he pulled out a piece of parchment and read aloud, "The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on the second of August at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, eighteen-seventy-five, and also under Section Thirteen of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy."

Jack considered this carefully. Muggle area, yes... Muggle present, no because fatass ran away. Previous warning? That he hadn't heard about.

"You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge asked, directly at Harry.

"Yes," Harry answered nervously.

"You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"

"Yes, but-"

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" Fudge continued, without allowing Harry the opportunity to explain.

"Yes, but-"

"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but-" Harry was getting visibly frustrated by being interrupted, even as it happened again.

"Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?"

"Yes, but-"

"Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?"

"Yes," Harry said much more quickly this time, "But I only used it because we were-"

This time it wasn't Fudge who interrupted. It was Amelia Bones. "You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?" The way she said it sounded more like admiration than accusation.

"Yes, because-"

"A corporeal Patronus?" she insisted.

"A- what?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Your Patronus had a clearly defined form?" Amelia explained, "I mean to say, it was more than vapour or smoke?"

"Yes," Harry answered, downright exasperated, now, "It's a stag. It's always a stag."

"Always?" she asked, seeming quite impressed now, "You have produced a Patronus before now?"

"Yes," Harry said almost snappishly, not seeming to notice that Amelia was complimenting him, "I've been doing it for over a year."

"And you are fifteen years old?" she asked again.

"Yes, and-"

"You learned this at school?"

"Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the-"

"Impressive," Amelia said, staring at him in amazement, "A true Patronus at his age... very impressive indeed."

The gathered wizards murmured amongst themselves about this, some agreeing with her, while others showed disapproval. Jack rolled his eyes. _He_ thought it was a great thing. It _had_ literally saved his soul.

"It's not a question of how impressive the magic was." Fudge sniped, "In fact, the more impressive the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the boy did it in plain view of a Muggle!"

"What Muggle?" Jack asked clearly.

Everyone turned to look at him now, and he stepped away from the wall.

"Sorry, Jack Harkness. I was called here as a witness for the prosecution." Harry was staring at him with a sense of horrified betrayal, now. "Only... I don't remember any Muggles there when Harry cast the spell."

"E-excuse me?" Fudge stammered.

"Dudley Dursley- Harry's cousin, already fully aware of the existence of the magical world- was present less than a minute before the spell was cast... but he didn't witness it." Jack explained, as he walked slowly over towards Amelia Bones, "I'd like to enter this into evidence, if I may?" he asked, offering her a roll of parchment. His notes from his stay in St Mungo's.

She accepted the scroll, glancing at Fudge for direction. When none was given she opened it quickly, and gasped in shock, "Oh my!"

"I really shouldn't be here, today." Jack observed, "But the medi-witch told me that Minister Fudge refused my request that the hearing be postponed."

"What is it?" Fudge snapped, trying to peer over at the parchment. Amelia handed it to him, and he stared at it, mouth falling open in horror. "This- this is- this is utterly preposterous! Impossible!"

Jack frowned, "Would you like to speak to the Healers at St Mungo's, Minister?" he asked, "I was attended by Madam Birch, Lady Adelaide, and Healers Wilson, Robins and Smith. Something that unusual has a habit of gaining a lot of attention. They'll all tell you exactly what you've just read there."

Fudge was utterly gobsmacked. Jack tilted his head to one side, watching as a vein twitched in the man's forehead, and finally he snapped, "This is impossible!"

"If you'll check the time and date of admission..." Jack added.

Fudge's eyes darted over the parchment to see that Jack was admitted about ten minutes after Harry Potter had cast the Patronus charm. "Lies made up by a twelve-year-old!" Fudge spluttered.

"Thirteen." Jack corrected, even though it was nowhere near his true age, "And you called me here to testify, so you must not have cared much about my age when you thought I would condemn Harry Potter."

Fudge shook his head, in purest denial, "Utterly inadmissible." he muttered.

"It looks authentic to me, Minister." Amelia observed, taking the parchment back from Fudge and peering through a monocle at it. Jack glanced over at Harry and Dumbledore, to see that Harry was staring in amazed comprehension, that Jack was not only taking his side but had brought hard evidence with him. Dumbledore, however, appeared not to know what was written on that parchment.

"I beg your pardon, Minister. Members of the Wizengamot." Dumbledore said, rising to speak, "But might I enquire as to the nature of this new information?"

Fudge remained dumbstruck, and it was Amelia Bones who spoke, after glancing briefly at Percy Weasley and nodding, as if to point out that this was for the official record as much as for Dumbledore.

"Physical contact with certain non-human creatures leaves traces on the skin, identifiable by basic medi-scan spells. These documents indicate that Mr Harkness showed signs of contact with a Dementor. These traces were identified around his neck... and mouth." she glanced briefly at the parchment, then continued, "There was also evidence of... self-inflicted injury. Bite-marks to the inside of his mouth. It suggests that he was attacked by a Dementor which- which attempted to Kiss him."

Gasps of horror and amazement echoed through the assembled witches and wizards, now. Even Dumbledore looked shocked by this news.

"It was Harry Potter's Patronus charm that saved me." Jack admitted.

"Preposterous." Fudge repeated, "Dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a pair of wizards? The odds on that must be very, very long. Even Bagman wouldn't have bet-"

"Oh, I don't think any of us believe the Dementors were there by coincidence." Dumbledore said serenely.

Fudge stared, eyes beginning to bug out a bit as he demanded, "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I think they were ordered there." Dumbledore said. It wasn't very tactful, really. At all. Jack almost cringed at just how blunt the old man was being.

The witch on the other side of Fudge, who had stayed well out of the debate so far, but been previously identified as Dolores Jane Umbridge, shifted slightly in the deathly silence that followed this... accusation.

"I think we might have a record of it if someone had ordered a pair of Dementors to go strolling through Little Whinging!" Fudge snapped.

"Not if the Dementors are taking orders from someone other than the Ministry of Magic these days." Dumbledore suggested, "I have already given you my views on this matter, Cornelius."

"Yes, you have." Fudge said, "And I have no reason to believe that your views are anything other than bilge, Dumbledore. The Dementors remain in place in Azkaban and are doing everything we ask them to." Jack shivered slightly as he said that. It made him feel ill to imagine what it must be like to be a prisoner in that place.

"Then." Dumbledore said with dangerous calm, "We must ask ourselves why somebody within the Ministry ordered a pair of Dementors into that alleyway on the second of August."

Umbridge now leaned forward, and Fudge acknowledged her, "The Chair recognizes Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister."

"I'm sure I must have misunderstood you, Professor Dumbledore." she simpered in a tone so saccharine it could probably melt teeth from twenty feet, if properly implemented. "So silly of me. But it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy!"

'_She who denied it..._' he thought, glancing at Dumbledore and actually meeting the man's eyes for once. Admittedly it was recognisable part of a rather crude rhyme about flatulence... but it might just have a point.

He saw recognition in the old man's eyes, and a slow blink in response.

Then he looked away quickly, as Umbridge laughed too-sweetly... and he decided that her laughter could induce vomiting from fifty feet. This was a truly rare creature. A human that even Jack Harkness found so utterly repulsive he idly considered that would rather kiss a Weevil than even look at her.

Unfortunately, she had allies. Other members of the Wizengamot laughed along with her, making it perfectly clear that they found the very possibility of what she had suggested he was implying ludicrous.

"If it is true that the Dementors are taking orders only from the Ministry of Magic." Dumbledore began calmly, "And it is also true that two Dementors attacked Harry and Jack a week ago, then it follows logically that somebody at the Ministry might have ordered the attacks. Of course, these particular Dementors may have been outside Ministry control-"

"There are no Dementors outside Ministry control!" Fudge snapped, turning an interesting shade of puce.

"Then undoubtedly the Ministry will be making a full inquiry into why two Dementors were so very far from Azkaban and why they attacked without authorization."

Fudge spluttered indignantly at this. Just because he had been talked into a corner. Jack could have weaselled his way out of this one without losing face, but he wasn't on Fudge's side, so he didn't care as the man retorted indignantly, "It is not for you to decide what the Ministry of Magic does or does not do, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore, on the other hand, smiled serenely, "Of course it isn't. I was merely expressing my confidence that this matter will not go uninvestigated."

Jack smirked darkly, and decided to back the old man up, "My medical records do prove the presence of Dementors, at the scene of the-" he coughed derisively, "-'crime'." he pointed out carefully. There was a hint of threat in his tone, as he continued, "And I trust the Ministry will find out who or what was responsible, and take appropriate action."

The unspoken 'or else' did not go unnoticed... but he wasn't going to outright say it, because that would make him no more tactful than Dumbledore.

And just because he hated politicians... doesn't mean he couldn't speak their language.

Even aside from the fact that Ianto could probably beat them at their own game with both hands tied behind his back and blindfolded- oh, and there's a happy mental picture- Jack did have connections to some of the more powerful Pureblood families in the magical world, and would be more than willing to pull strings against the Minister if he tried to cover this up.

"I would remind everybody that the behaviour of any supposed Dementors is not the subject of this hearing!" Fudge said tersely, "We are here to examine Harry Potter's offences under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!"

"Of course we are." Dumbledore agreed with a nod, "But the presence of Dementors in that alleyway is highly relevant. Clause Seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and as those exceptional circumstances include situations which threaten the life of the wizard or witch him- or herself, or any witches, wizards or Muggles present at the time of the-"

"We are familiar with Clause Seven, thank you very much!" Fudge snapped.

"Of course you are." Dumbledore said with deepest smugness, "Then we are in agreement that Harry's use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circumstances the clause describes?"

Fudge glowered, looked at the parchment Jack had presented as evidence, then to Jack himself, who watched with his best impassive expression, while still purposefully staring down the Minister himself. And Jack did win that staring contest, though it was hardly difficult. Fudge stammered and spluttered for a moment, turning several shades of purple that human faces really were not meant to go, before finally conceding, and turning a baleful look to Madam Bones.

"Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?" Madam Bones asked clearly.

Almost every one of the Wizengamot raised their hands.

"And those in favour of conviction?" Four hands raised for this choice. Only Fudge, Umbridge and a couple of others in the back row.

Fudge was furious. "Very well, very well." he grumbled darkly, "Cleared of all charges."

Jack, who had the great fortune of being right next to the exit, immediately left the courtroom, feeling immensely smug about the reaction he had elicited from Minister Fudge.

x x x


	50. A Strange Request

x x x

**Chapter 50: A Strange Request**

x x x

"Mr Harkness. A word, if you please?"

Jack stopped dead, halfway down the corridor, at the sound of Dumbledore's voice. He slowly turned around, looking at the old man, but careful not to meet his eyes as he asked, "What about, Professor?"

"In private?" Dumbledore elaborated. Jack really didn't like the sound of that. Alone in a room with a powerful telepath? Yeah, there was no way that was a good thing. Yet, how could he say no without arousing suspicion?

"I was kind of in a hurry, actually." Jack said, gesturing behind him, towards the elevator that led up to the exit, where his friends would be waiting.

"This won't take long."

Okay, a polite no was clearly not an option. He still reserved the right to be rude about it, but for now Jack merely shrugged by way of an answer, and Dumbledore gestured to another room off to the side of this foreboding corridor.

Once inside this room, door far too securely closed behind them, Dumbledore's tone turned very brisk and businesslike. Not a trace of the cheerfully half-senile old coot he usually seemed to be. "Allow me to be frank."

"If you like." Jack said, in a defensively flippant tone, "Can I be James? I always liked that name."

This was answered with a stern stare that he didn't dare meet. "I have observed the care you take not to meet my eyes, Mr Harkness. Your silent opinion on Miss Umbridge today only confirmed my suspicions."

Jack glared at the wall, folding his arms defensively now, "You can read minds. So what?"

"Your mental discipline is impressive. Deliberate projection of a single thought, while concealing everything else."

"You don't want to know what I do to people who try to get into my head without permission, Professor." Jack said coldly.

Dumbledore chuckled amicably, "You are quite correct, of course. Why, I once encountered a man who could telepathically induce physical pain in those whose minds he touched. Tell me, is your talent natural, or trained?"

"Trained." Jack answered honestly. He didn't see the point in lying about that.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Then, I am afraid I have a request to make of you."

"Anything involving you, me and telepathy will result in psychological trauma for you, old man." Jack retorted with a shark's grin.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow politely, "Perhaps a touch over-defensive, there, Mr Harkness. I only wished to ask that you teach one of your fellow students similar mental skills."

Jack blinked, turning to face him directly, "Who? And why?"

"Harry Potter." Dumbledore answered, with an intense stare that made it incredibly difficult to continue looking away. "Because I believe he may be more vulnerable than most to telepathic assault."

"Voldemort." Jack said quietly, "I've heard about that."

This must be the first time Jack had ever seen the Headmaster show overt surprise. "Indeed?" he asked thoughtfully, "And how did you learn this?"

"Harry told me. You don't go through something like watching your nemesis raising themselves from the dead with a person without gaining a little bit of trust and respect." Jack sniped.

"Harry told me you were unconscious, during Lord Voldemort's resurrection?" '_Lord_ Voldemort'? Respect for his enemy? That was interesting in itself, but now was not the time to think about it.

Jack's lip twitched darkly, "There's a bit more to it than that." Dumbledore's questioning look became more intense, and Jack couldn't resist the instinct to meet that gaze, now.

But as soon as he did so, his mental defences kicked in, deliberately focusing on only one thought... anger and rage and pain, screaming at the intruder that was attempting to read him.

'_GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY MIND!_'

And that was only a warning shot. Even Dumbledore recognised it as such, flinching visibly. But then he smiled, "Yes, teach him that. Although preferably not the language."

Jack raised an eyebrow at this, "And what proof do you have that I'm not your enemy?"

Dumbledore gave him a calculating look, and Jack didn't shy away from the eye-contact this time. The old man knew better than to pry, now. "None. But I am rather a good judge of character, if I do say so myself."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he let other thoughts rise to the surface of his still defensive mind. Blood and cries of pain. People he, himself had hurt. Dumbledore flinched once more. "Sure of that, are you?" Jack asked coldly.

"Yes." Dumbledore said sincerely, suddenly smiling far too smugly, "Because you recoiled from that emotion as well as I."

And with that he turned and swept out of the room, leaving Jack alone to consider what had just happened.

x x x

Ianto woke up groggily. His head pounded with the unfortunately familiar sensation of a stunning spell. His first attempt to move also showed evidence of a leg-locker curse, as his knees and ankles were stuck together without any form of physical bindings.

He had left the Ministry building alone, wanting to get away from the horrible feeling he got every time he thought about what Jack had done to him. He knew it wasn't really Jack's fault... he could understand the reasoning behind it, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He had been walking towards the street on which the Leaky Cauldron could be found... and then he had woken up here.

No pain, and no sign of who or what had attacked him.

Until now.

"Hello, Eye-Candy." a horribly familiar voice purred from across the room behind him. Ianto jumped, almost falling off the couch he had woken on and flat on his face, when his legs failed to work separately from one another. He turned around where he was sitting, to see John Hart leaning casually against a wall, smirking.

"What do _you_ want?" Ianto snarled.

Hart chuckled, "Well, at least I know I've been stalking the right person. You look so different at this age. Would have been a bit embarrassing if I'd got it wrong, after all the research I put in." He pushed away from the wall and took a few slow steps towards Ianto. "And I think you'll find that what I want and why I'm here are two very different questions." he added with a bit of a leer.

"Why are you here, then?" Ianto asked warily. He got the strong impression he had been corrected because he really didn't want to know what Hart wanted. He scanned the room carefully, noting that his jacket- the source of all his pockets, one of which contained his wand- was hanging from the wall behind Hart. Far out of reach.

"Did you know that Hogwarts still exists in the fifty-first century?" Hart asked casually, stopping in front of Ianto, arms folded and clearly in control of this situation. "Concealment spells manage to stay just ahead of surveillance tech, and even in my time it's still a secret. Of course, we don't call it magic anymore. We understand how it works much better than in this depressing era. A natural affinity for telepathic and telekinetic powers, caused by a recessive genetic trait that about ten percent of humanity has... although only a small portion of that number can actually _use_ it."

Ianto frowned at this. He was getting the sickening feeling that if Hart actually knew about this then he must be... a wizard.

"Cats and dogs have it too, and consistently breeding them for it is what created the sub-species; Kneasels and Crups. Then of course there are species for which this genetic affinity is dominant, which in this backwards century you would refer to as magical creatures... dragons, mermaids, centaurs- oh, centaurs are fun-" He stared off into the mid-distance for a moment, before clearing his throat as if to dispel bad thoughts, and Ianto tried _very_ hard not to think about _that_. "But, ah, back to the point. I am the one thousand three hundred and fifty-eighth Time Agent to be recruited. And I'm only the twelfth-" he coughed derisively, "-'wizard' to work for the Agency."

"Is this going anywhere?" Ianto asked tiredly.

"Yes, I'm about to tell you why I could kill you with a wave of my hand, if you'd let me finish." Hart snapped. Ianto really didn't want to test that statement, so he obligingly shut up and waited for Hart to continue. "Even in this century, it's understood that channelling these powers is vastly easier and more effective with the use of materials acquired from these 'magical' creatures. By the mid-twenty-first century it's fairly common knowledge that the greatest raw power can be channelled through hair from the mane or tail- especially tail- of Thestrals."

Ianto frowned. Nobody had ever used Thestral hair before, according to what he had read about it. But he didn't have much time to consider that, as Hart waved a hand dismissively and continued to speak. Ianto only just resisted the instinct to flinch, thanks to the I-can-kill-you-with-a-wave-of-my-hand announcement earlier.

"Something about growth-patterns and naturally conductive carbon-chain alignments." Clearly that was the full extent of the technobabble he actually knew for it. "Now because the man who runs the Time Agency is in on our little secret, even though we don't tell the other- what's the word this century, Muggle?- Agents... as part of my initiation, I had to be able to see, hunt, and acquire this material for myself."

Ianto rolled his eyes. He was in no way surprised to hear that John Hart could see Thestrals, even back then. He wouldn't be surprised if this man had been a murderer since he was a toddler.

"And you want to hear the best part?" Hart asked, grinning and pulling up the sleeve of his right arm, "The bones of any living thing that's able to use these powers are far more effective than most woods, for the construction of wands... although I've been told that's generally less ethical." He honestly looked both mildly confused and entirely dismissive of this concept of ethics. "So... the channelling element was surgically implanted right into the bone in my arm." He traced a finger along the back of his forearm, the ulna bone. "My own arm becomes the wand."

And then to demonstrate, he waved his hand at Ianto's jacket, and it levitated over to him, where he caught it easily in his right hand.

"See?" Hart asked, grinning as he pulled Ianto's wand out of the jacket pocket, "So much better than a bit of wood that could oh-so easily be snapped or stolen." He examined the wand in his hand with mild interest.

Ianto watched tensely. It was bad enough being disarmed and defenceless, but the thought of that wand being broken made him literally nauseous with fear. Since he had first touched it, he had felt an instinctive bond to the magical tool, and absolutely despised the very idea of it being damaged like that.

"What is this, phoenix feather?" Hart chuckled, "So archaic."

Ianto bit back the urge to insult him, and instead carefully measured his tone as he spoke through gritted teeth, "Thanks for the history lesson. But you still haven't told me why you're here."

Another wave of his hand and Hart sent the jacket flying back to the hook it had been hanging on before. He was still holding Ianto's wand, though. "Yes, of course."

He suddenly lunged forward, until he was leaning over Ianto with one knee up beside him and both hands on the back of the couch to either side of Ianto's head. Face-to-face, so close that their noses almost touched. Ianto could smell the fifty-first century pheromones, and tried very hard to ignore it.

"I know what happened to Jack recently." Hart said softly, "Lucky timing on the boy-wonder's part, but he'll get over it. He's had worse dates." He leaned forward a little more, to whisper in Ianto's ear... so close now that Ianto would swear he felt Hart's cheek brush against his own. "But something worse is going to happen to him." Hart murmured breathily, "Something that will _break_ him."

Ianto shuddered at that thought. The thought of really losing Jack. It was far worse than the insinuated threat of breaking his wand. Worse, even, than the way Hart was leaning in so close and so _deliberately _ seductive... his left hand now moving to caress Ianto's neck.

"I'm not sure exactly when." he continued, "But I do know that it will happen while you're still at Hogwarts. Someone will tell you the only way to fix it, and you won't want to hear it. But if you don't, well..." Hart leaned back slightly, meeting his eyes now with something that actually looked vaguely akin to honesty, "It might just be the end of the world. And that would even be bad for me, considering I haven't been born yet."

"Selfish bastard." Ianto muttered, not sure what else to say. He felt slightly dazed by the pheromones, and even though he hated this man with all his heart and soul, he couldn't help but be entranced by his gaze right now.

Hart smirked at this weak insult, and leaned forward, lightly kissing Ianto on the lips. The kiss was surprisingly gentle, and Ianto found himself unable to resist for the first few seconds. When he did try to push Hart away, he backed off without any complaint, nor even a snide remark. Still smirking. "I don't care if you believe me or not, I do love Jack. Even if this wasn't possibly apocalyptic, I would still want to help him."

"Why tell me, then?" Ianto asked shakily, "Why not him?"

"Aside from the fact that he's even less likely to trust me than you are?" Hart chuckled, shaking his head, "Because you told me to."

Ianto blinked, "What?"

"The last time I saw you, and the next time you see me." Hart said, suddenly taking on an explaining-quantum-physics-to-a-two-year-old tone of voice, "You did and will tell me to tell you this now."

"Bet you anything I never told you to kiss me." Ianto muttered, understanding the time-travel logic there, even if he didn't have to like it.

Hart grinned at him, "Oh, I could do so much more than a kiss, if you'll let me."

"How about, no." Ianto said sharply, "And what the hell is wrong with you? I'm _twelve!_"

"Looks aren't everything, Eye-Candy."

"And if that isn't a self-contradicting statement, I don't know what is!" Ianto tried to push him away again, and was rather surprised when he actually stood up and backed off without any argument. That infuriating smirk was still plastered across his face, though.

"Maybe it's not the _very_ next time you see me... you weren't too clear on the details." Hart muttered, as if distracted. Then, with evident disdain for the object itself, he dropped the ash and phoenix-feather wand onto the couch next to Ianto.

Ianto's gaze instinctively followed the wand, and at the exact moment that it hit the cushion, a sound like a whip-crack echoed through the room. Ianto immediately grabbed the wand, and turning to aim it at...

...thin air.

John Hart had vanished.

x x x

Jack was reading the Daily Prophet. The strange magical newspaper the five teenagers who claimed to be the time-travelling future of Torchwood received by owl delivery every morning. Of course, this morning they had all been out, so Jack had collected it from the windowsill himself.

Most of it was political drivel claiming that some important person was going senile, and that Harry Potter- who his future-younger-self had mentioned a few times- was a big fat liar. He was strongly inclined to set the paper on fire, its attitude was just so pathetic and immature... but Tosh apparently liked to do the puzzles, so he refrained from doing so. For now.

"Hey. The others aren't back yet?" Ianto asked, wandering in as if he owned the place. At least _he_ was orderly and efficient. Owen bloody Harper was not. Jack wondered what on Earth had possessed his future-self to hire that brat.

"Nope, sorry to disappoint you, but it's just me." Jack said, idly setting the paper down and looking up at him. "How'd the trial go?"

"No idea. Left early." Ianto said, somewhere between sullen and definitely-hiding-something. Jack decided not to push for answers right away, though.

And just then there was a knock on the door.

Jack and Ianto exchanged a dubious look, "Your lot aren't polite enough to knock." Jack said bluntly.

Ianto shrugged, drawing his wand just in case. Can never be too paranoid. Jack drew his gun as well. Just in case. Then Ianto answered the door.

"Father?" Ianto asked, shocked.

"Ianto." the man at the door said, warily glancing from the wand that had been pointed at him a second ago- but was now hanging loosely in Ianto's hand- to Jack, who was standing back beyond the couch with both hands now innocently behind his back to hide the gun.

"What are you doing here?" Ianto asked.

"I've been looking for you since the end of term." his father said, evidently rather unsure but still managing to project an air of authority nevertheless. "I needed to know if the rumours were true or not."

"Which ones?" Ianto asked, more than a little nervous.

"Any of them?" his father suggested, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? The Yule Ball?"

Ianto flinched at the second suggestion more than the first. "What happened at the Yule Ball?" Jack asked.

Ianto gave him a very sharp 'shut up, I'll tell you later' look, before turning back to his father, "Yes." he answered, "It's all true."

"I need to know how seriously you're involved in this- this... war."

Ianto let out the breath he had been holding, as he had waited to hear which of the two points his father would ask about first. "First, I need to ask you something." Ianto said, wavering slightly between defensive, apologetic, and his usual efficient self, "See, we heard that a Death Eater had been using Polyjuice potion to impersonate a teacher all year. If they could get to Alastor Moody..." he hesitated before speaking very quickly, "When I was eight, how did I break my leg?"

His father stared at him for several seconds, stunned. "You think I would-?"

"If you refuse to answer you'll have to leave." Ianto warned, looking pained at having to issue this threat.

His father shook his head, looking away rather shocked, "You fell off the swings." he said bluntly. Ianto's lip twitched in morbid amusement, but he seemed to be waiting for more. "It was an accident." And _that_ sounded like apology.

Ianto nodded slowly, "Alright... brace yourself, this is confusing and probably quite shocking. In fact you might want to sit down." He gave his father the chance to adamantly refuse the advice to take a seat, and then took a deep breath to steady himself before speaking again, "There are five of us, and we're all older than we look. We don't fully understand the magic that brought us back in time, and made us the correct age and gave us the magical potential to attend Hogwarts. It was obviously the work of someone who really knew what they were doing, and since Voldemort returned Jack decided- and we all agree- that whatever brought us here has something to do with this coming war, and we should do everything in our power to help."

The way Ianto's father tensed up at the mention of Jack's name made him very uncomfortable, but Ianto himself didn't seem to notice it. In fact he seemed afraid to meet his father's eyes right now. Afraid to see his reaction.

"Why do you have to fight?" Mr Jones asked weakly.

Ianto shook his head, "It's what we do. I work for a top-secret government organisation. Time-travel is old news to us... although I'll admit we're not usually the ones doing the time-travelling. But defending the innocent against dangers we're sworn to keep secret is also a standard part of the job description. I'd think since granddad was an Auror, and even fought in the first Voldemort War, you'd understand that?"

"But... but you're just a child." Mr Jones was clearly shaken by this revelation, and was now leaning one hand on the back of the couch to try to regain some composure.

"I know I look younger." Ianto said gently, "It's the same spell that brought us here. But I came back from ten years in the future. If you count the time I've spent at Hogwarts, I'm twenty seven years old. I fight monsters for a living, we all do... and we know how to take care of ourselves."

Mr Jones sighed, defeated on that front. Then he turned on Jack. "And if I may ask, who is this?"

Jack decided tact was the best option here, and didn't name himself immediately, "Well when you look like a twelve-year-old, people tend to frown on the idea of renting a flat on your own." he said, trying to break some of the tension, "Five apparent twelve-year-olds? Downright suspicious, if you ask me."

Ianto chuckled nervously, and even his father showed a faint hint of amusement at the thought. "He's mostly harmless." Ianto explained, and Jack shot him an impudent look for that. "He works for the same organisation we do, and we trust him completely."

Jack decided against snidely commenting that Ianto wasn't as smart as he took him for, to trust him so easily. They were trying to placate his father, after all. Besides, he might not really mean it, anyway.

"Well, as you are safely at home already, I don't suppose I have any way of enforcing my authority here." his father said, and while Ianto tensed slightly, Jack recognised the slightly self-depreciating joke for what it was. "I had hoped that, with your, ah, connection to one of the two living witnesses, you would be able to tell me if the rumours were true or not... and I do wish that they weren't. With He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returned, I shall have to cut all ties with the magical world."

Ianto nodded slowly, "I remember you doing that. You never explained why, but it was to keep Rhi and I safe, wasn't it?"

His father nodded slowly... but then he asked, not seeming too hopeful of an answer, "Is there anything you can tell me about the future?"

Ianto hesitated. He was actually considering it! "Careful, Ianto." Jack warned, "If you say the wrong thing it could change-"

"I think we've changed quite a bit already, don't you?" Ianto asked him coldly, "Besides, I know the rules." He turned back to his father, and thought for another moment before saying, "Well, Rhi got married when she was twenty-two, and by the last time I saw her she had two kids and enough self-sufficiency and pride to give me a half-hour rant about not wanting charity when I gave her a computer for Christmas."

"And you?" he asked. Jack wondered how Ianto would answer that one, as well.

"Uh..." Ianto hesitated, clearly unsure of how to answer that one, "I do like my job. It really makes me feel like I'm making a difference... helping people."

"And..." his father hesitated, "...Jack Harkness?"

Jack blinked at that, "Yes, what about Jack Harkness?" he asked, giving Ianto a bemused look.

Ianto was blushing fiercely, terribly embarrassed by this question, "It's very complicated." he mumbled.

"Wait, you and Jack are...?" Jack asked, feeling only very slightly odd to be talking about his future-self in the third person. Wasn't the first time he'd had to, after all.

"Yes." Ianto hissed through gritted teeth, "But it's complicated."

Jack gave Ianto's father a calculating look, then smirked almost sadistically, "You know, Ianto, I think what your father's trying to ask is, do you prefer men, women, or both?"

Ianto looked like if his face got any redder either his head would explode or he'd pass out. Jack wasn't quite sure _how_ extreme embarrassment could harm a sentient being, but he did know there were some very much non-human species that it could actually kill.

Even his father looked put out by the blatant and tactless way Jack had said that. But he didn't deny that that was indeed the question he had been trying to ask.

"Like I said, it's complicated." Ianto hissed, "But if you must know, it was only women before I met Jack. Now it's only Jack."

"And Fleur. I saw you looking, Ianto." the teenaged version of Jack said from the doorway, "She's part-Veela." he stage-whispered to Ianto's father, grinning unashamedly.

"Jack! This is my father! Please behave yourself!" Ianto snapped.

"But you _were_ staring at her." the teenaged Jack said innocently, as Gwen, Tosh and Owen piled into the apartment behind him, and Owen closed the door with a bit of a bang. They were all carrying bags laden with books and supplies clearly purchased from that magical street in London.

"She's a Veela, Jack." Owen put in unhelpfully, "Everyone stares at Veela. Tosh was looking, too." Tosh promptly blushed when he said that.

Jack's teenaged self suddenly turned to really look at Ianto's father, taking in the blatantly shocked and mildly offended- yet somehow slightly amused, probably at the Veela jokes- look on his face. "Sorry, Mr Jones. I didn't mean to be rude."

Like hell he didn't. Jack glared at his teenaged self, but then asked, "Since everybody's here now, would you like to stay for lunch, Mr Jones?"

x x x

Meanwhile, at number 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Good news, Severus. I will no longer require your services in training Harry Potter to shield his mind from Lord Voldemort. I have found someone else whom I believe is up to the task."

Severus frowned, suddenly infinitely suspicious. When Dumbledore said the words 'good news' in that particular tone, it was always best to be wary. "Who?"

"Jack Harkness." Dumbledore announced, smiling far too brightly, "He does have a talent for mental misdirection. It isn't Occlumency, per se, but it is highly effective."

Severus scowled, "How do you know we can trust Harkness?" he asked, stunned that the old man was plotting to recruit a thirteen-year-old to teach the 'great Harry Potter' mental defences.

"Unusual as it may seem, Mr Harkness appears to have taken Harry under his wing." Dumbledore explained rather vaguely, "Harry has learned from him already, verbal misdirection, an awareness of the bigger picture, and perhaps most importantly, a sense of open-mindedness against prejudice, without resorting to blind trust."

Severus continued to scowl irritably. It was at this point that he decided to keep an eye on this situation. Perhaps later he would need to test Potter's ability in Occlumency for himself. It wasn't simply the fact that he didn't trust Harkness, but it was the fact that to a certain extent Dumbledore was right. Harkness could keep Severus out of his mind quite completely, and that was reason to be wary in and of itself.

As the old man left Severus alone with these thoughts, he suddenly realised what had happened.

Albus Dumbledore, conniving old coot extraordinaire, had just made Severus Snape take a genuinely protective interest in Harry Potter!

He felt deeply ashamed... he must be losing his edge!

x x x


	51. Trust

x x x

**Chapter 51: Trust**

x x x

Ifan Jones was a reasonable man, and when evidence was offered to prove his son's story, he accepted it as truth, however reluctantly.

Admittedly, the evidence could have been forged, but it made far more sense to him to accept that they were from the future than to wonder why a group of pre-teens would go to the trouble of falsifying such a bizarre story.

Toshiko Sato had shown him a strange and powerfully magical crystal, and her research so far into trying to understand its purpose. The research material ranged from incantations in ancient runes to complex mathematical formulae that made little-to-no sense to him. Still, no ordinary child could have come up with- and then explained on her own- such research. He was sure of that.

By the time lunch was over, he had decided that he quite thoroughly loathed Owen Harper. The irreverent brat- apparently really in his thirties, but still just as childish as he looked now- had taken every opportunity to make inappropriate jokes. It was almost satisfying to see that all four of his fellow 'children' did, at some point during the meal, either hit him upside the head or kick him under the table.

Gwen Cooper had remained very quiet, looking confused and uncomfortable the whole time. Her first reaction had been the same as Ianto's, with regards to the possibility of Polyjuice potion, but once that suspicion was allayed she had simply melted into the background... with the exception of two violent assaults on Owen's person.

Jack Harkness was spectacularly friendly and outgoing, regaling him with detailed- and he hoped exaggerated- tales of his achievements in the Triwizard Tournament. Seducing a dragon? Using Muggle technology in Hogwarts grounds? Befriending a Boggart? It was quite fantastical, but the way the boy talked just made you _want_ to believe him.

The striking resemblance the only other (apparent) adult present bore to Jack led Ifan to believe that he could be the boy's father... although given the detail of time travel- and Jack was the only one of the five not to state their true age- it was impossible to be certain. Still, this was not a matter he bothered to press, as this man simply sat back and listened to the conversation, playing host rather well, but not really seeming a part of events himself.

He was pleased to see that by the end of it, aside from taking deepest offence at every other word out of Owen's mouth, Ianto had relaxed significantly. He did behave in a much more mature and careful manner than the boy Ifan knew- a detail that could be attributed to either falsehood or simply that he had grown up- however, he knew far too much for Ifan to seriously consider the possibility that he was an impostor.

"I was thinking." Ifan said carefully, "Of asking my cousin to cast a Fidelius charm on our family. It is the best protection against the likes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Yeah, worked really well for the Potters." Owen sniped. Toshiko kicked him under the table.

The only other (apparent) adult in the room peered over the glass he had been drinking from, "Guys, could you lay off him, please? I don't want people to see him roaming around with bruises and get ideas involving social services. Although if anyone tries to lock him in juvenile hall for the summer, I wouldn't complain."

Ifan gave the impudent boy a dark look, quite strongly agreeing with the other man's remark.

"What's a Fidelius charm, anyway?" Gwen asked, a picture of naive curiosity.

All four children turned their gaze, as one, to Ianto, as if expecting him to know. "Oh please, do your own research for once." Ianto protested defensively, folding his arms in a bit of a sulk. But then he did reluctantly deign to explain, "It's an incredibly complicated charm." He briefly glanced at Ifan, "That you know someone who can cast it is impressive in itself." and back to his friends again, "It involves physically binding an incorporeal concept to the soul of a single being. Derived from Latin, meaning 'trust', the Fidelius spell entrusts that one person with a secret that literally no one else in the universe may ever utter again. Only that one person- the Secret Keeper- can tell anyone... in theory they could tell everyone in the world but nobody could speak it to one another... or they could tell no one and you could search forever in exactly the correct location and never find what the secret was protecting."

"Very close." Ifan agreed, impressed, "If the Secret Keeper dies, the spell would be diluted, the secret still protected, but those he or she told would then be able to tell it in their turn."

Ianto blinked, nodded slowly, and Ifan got the strong impression he was filing this new information away for future reference. "The problem with the Fidelius charm." he added, with a slight frown, "As Owen tactlessly pointed out, is the need to trust in someone outside the family. The subject of the Secret cannot also be its Keeper."

"Again, not entirely correct." Ifan said, but this time instead of explaining, he waited for Ianto to figure it out for himself.

It took a few seconds, and Ifan saw his eyes darting as he mentally went through what he had said and tried to figure out what wasn't right there. Then a look of dawning horror crossed his face. He appeared to have figured it out correctly. "_You're_ planning on being the Secret Keeper?" he asked, a bit too loudly, and a bit too high-pitched to remain dignified about it.

"What was it your grandfather always said, Ianto?" Ifan asked calmly.

"He said a lot of things." Ianto said, still a bit shaken, "But I'm guessing you're either referring to; 'If you want a job done right, do it yourself'... or; 'Trust no one but yourself, and if there's more than one of you, not even then'."

Interestingly, Jack and the other man at the table exchanged identical looks of mildly amused incredulity. Owen snorted with barely suppressed laughter, both girls promptly kicked him, and Toshiko hissed a shushing noise at him. This was highly suspicious, but for now Ifan very pointedly chose to ignore it. It was easier if he didn't acknowledge it.

Instead, he nodded to Ianto, "That is correct. I would rather ensure the safety of my family than be protected myself."

Ianto shook his head and looked away, but didn't seem willing to argue the point either.

"Hey, if you know someone who can cast this spell, can we get it done for us, too?" Owen asked.

By reflex, Jack reached a hand in the general direction of hitting Owen upside the head, but at the last moment he hesitated, "That's actually not a bad idea." he pondered aloud, before looking to Ifan questioningly.

"It could be arranged, certainly." he said with a nod.

"Who would be the Secret Keeper?" the other man asked carefully.

"I would." Jack said immediately, "Nobody expects the child-"

"Jack, this is you we're talking about." _that_ earned Owen the smack to the head that had been coming his way.

Without even missing a beat, Jack continued, "-I'm the best choice, you guys all know that, right? I can block my mind from others-"

"Actually, with the Fidelius spell, you can't be forced into giving up the secret." Ianto put in helpfully, "It has to be willing."

"And who are you going to be protecting?" the other man asked.

"The four of you." Jack gestured to the other four young teens, "And this place."

"Not the Hub?" Gwen asked.

"I have no vested interest in the lives of anyone in the Hub at the moment." Jack said bitterly, and the man whom Ifan was becoming more certain by the second was _also_ Jack chuckled rather cruelly at that. "Everyone I care about right now is here, in this room." He was looking at all four of his fellow children, but most specifically at Ianto, as he said that.

Gwen shrugged vaguely, "Only saying, be useful when this is over, way you drive that SUV around."

"Admit it, Owen is worse." Tosh put in brightly.

"Hey!" Owen protested.

"They're right, Owen." Jack agreed happily. "I may drive like a maniac, but you're the one who finds a way to break six different traffic laws every time you get behind the wheel. And they're rarely even the same six!"

However much he may be certain to the contrary, they still looked like children... and they were arguing over who was the better driver. It was beginning to give Ifan a headache.

"I'll tell you what." he said, rising from his place at the table, "I need to head home, now. I'll speak to Gwenog tomorrow, and you can call me tomorrow evening with regards to the arrangements. Ianto, you still know the number, I assume?" Ianto nodded. "And before I leave, I would like a word with Mr Harkness."

Both Jack and the other man looked up at this. Yes, at least related, but he was practically certain of his previous and rather unsettling guess. He was, however, looking directly at the boy.

Jack glanced at Ianto who was doing his best to avoid looking at anyone. Then he looked up and nodded in agreement.

Ifan led Jack out to the hallway, just outside the small apartment, closing the door firmly behind them. "I have to ask you." Ifan began, but hesitated. He hated this part, but he'd done it to a couple of boys who'd been eyeing up Rhiannon, already, so how different would this be, really? "About your intentions towards my son."

Jack frowned, almost as if he was unsure of what that meant for a moment, but then he seemed to figure it out, and answered, "My intentions are whatever he wants them to be."

Not what Ifan had expected to hear. The other two boys had only managed to come out with, '_Gees, dude, I don't wanna do nothing_', and the infinitely more offensive, '_What d'ya think? She's cute_'. Rhiannon had only been fourteen at the time, and that boy had been summarily threatened with grievous bodily harm if he even set foot on the _block_ that they lived on.

Ifan had heard that this did add ten minutes to his walk to school every morning.

Jack seemed to interpret the stunned silence as a demand for further explanation. "If he wanted me to go away and never see him again, I would. If he wanted me to spend the rest of his life with him, I would." The scary part was the total sincerity in every word, no sign of deception or hesitation. And it got scarier... "I would destroy everything else that I care about if he so much as asked. I would never hurt him, and you don't want to hear what I'd do to anyone who _would_ try to hurt him. I'd die for him, in a heartbeat... or kill for him in two."

Ifan was utterly shocked. The longer the boy had spoken, the more terrifying he had seemed, until he held an air of absolute power and authority the likes of which Ifan had never witnessed before (although he had heard that Hogwarts' Headmaster Dumbledore did this rather effectively).

He suddenly had absolutely no doubt that Jack Harkness was more than capable of fighting in this war, regardless of apparent age, and what's more, he felt infinitely more confident that nobody would dare harm his son (and survive in any fit state to tell about it, at the very least) as long as this boy was around to protect him. It also held some level of comfort that he chose to offer death before murder, though he felt oddly certain that he wouldn't hesitate for either.

He had been planning on questioning Jack's real age, an all-out interrogation as to why he thought he was good enough for Ianto, but now... now none of that seemed at all important anymore.

It took a few seconds, after that, for Ifan to manage to speak. "You... you really love him."

Jack flinched as if he had been physically struck, all his brave words evaporating in an instant and once more he looked like a normal teenage boy, "Please don't say that."

Ifan wanted to say, '_But it's true_'... it so obviously was. And because of that he no longer had any reservations about allowing Ianto to stay with Jack... not that he had any idea how he might prevent it if he tried.

Instead, however, Ifan simply nodded in acceptance of the strange request. "If you insist."

x x x

Could this day get any weirder, Ianto wondered.

It felt like weeks ago that Jack had been released from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, but in reality it had only been about nine hours. Nine hours Ianto really could have done without.

Between the way Jack had behaved at St Mungo's, the Ministry of Magic holding a hearing to condemn Harry Potter for saving Jack from a Dementor, John Bloody Hart showing up again, and then his father suddenly deciding this was a good day to drop by unannounced to check up on him... he wasn't sure which was the most shocking.

He knew which hurt him most, though.

And as soon as his father had left to talk to Jack, Ianto had waited by the door... he hadn't heard a word of what was said outside, only muffled voices and then finally retreating footsteps.

The door began to open, and Ianto quickly intercepted Jack, pushing him back out the door and closing it again behind him. And he continued to push Jack towards the exit of the building for a few steps before Jack took the hint and started walking on his own.

"What's the matter, Ianto?" Jack asked, somewhere quite directly between bemused and wary.

"Well you aren't seriously injured, so it must have gone better than Rhi's last boyfriend." Ianto commented with false calm, before very suddenly switching to a much more bitter tone as he added, "I need to talk to you about this morning."

Jack missed a step, and grabbed Ianto's arm to stop him from dragging him any further, "I'm sorry, Ianto. I didn't mean to-"

"Then why did you?" Ianto asked, only just biting back the urge to shout at him.

"I-" Jack hesitated for only a second before turning it back on Ianto as a question, "You remember what it was like when we first saw a Dementor? On the train to Hogwarts that first time? How did it make you feel, Ianto?"

"About the same as I felt when you hit me." Ianto retaliated bitterly.

Jack flinched at that, but continued this angle in spite of it, "Dementors don't just cause despair, they deny happiness. They make you relive the worst moments of your life, over and over again, and there's nothing you can do to resist it, no tricks or mental defences... because it isn't projecting negative emotions, it's feeding on the positive until there's nothing there anymore."

Ianto shuddered involuntarily at that thought. He remembered the way he had felt when the Dementor had just so much as looked at him, and it was truly awful, but what Jack was describing managed to make it sound even worse. All bad things have a weakness you can exploit to defeat or at least endure them... but if what Jack was saying was true, then the Dementors were the exception to that rule.

"And that's just when it's near you." Jack continued, "Its touch burns like ice, makes you want to scream... but you can't. Really can't afford to. When it tried to kiss me, that was literally the worst moment of my life, because it made me relive every other terrible thing in my past, at the same time as trying to-" He flinched, swallowing hard, and didn't finish that sentence.

Ianto couldn't blame him, really. Death was one thing- even Jack had said before that he wouldn't shy away from his final death if it came- but what the Dementor's Kiss was supposed to do to a person... it was so surreally terrifying, a whole other level of wrong that just couldn't be reconciled with.

"I'm really sorry, Ianto. I didn't mean to hurt you." Jack said gently, taking a step closer to him, "You just... took me by surprise." He reached up one hand to lightly touch the side of Ianto's face, staring into his eyes with genuine apology.

Then, tentatively, almost as if he was afraid of it, Jack leaned that little bit closer and very lightly kissed him on the lips. Ianto didn't dare move, for fear of upsetting Jack... but after a few seconds, Jack backed off again, and smiled one of those thoroughly twisted and morbid smirks he usually reserved for when the world was ending but something still managed to be funny about it.

"It's alright to reciprocate." he said, almost laughing in the same twisted way he was smiling, "But for the time being I'd really appreciate it if you didn't initiate."

Ianto couldn't help but chuckle at the way he said that, and he was grateful when Jack kissed him again, because he really had wanted to just then.

After almost a minute, Jack broke the kiss, and asked, "Happy now?" For only an instant Ianto wasn't quite sure if the smile Jack wore was entirely genuine... between the way he asked and the slight hint of a calculating look he was sure he saw in Jack's eyes, it felt almost like a test.

And so he answered a bit more diplomatically than he might otherwise have done, "As long as you are, then yes."

Jack grinned brightly, and all doubt that he had ever been less than happy faded from Ianto's mind. Then Jack stepped back, suddenly almost business-like as he changed the subject, "Hey, I want to ask you something about the Fidelius charm... I've got an idea."

x x x

It was about a week later that Jack and Ianto were invited to the home of Gwenog Jones, a reputedly powerful witch, who was most well-known for captaining the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team, and acting out as a bit of a man-hating bitch during matches and publicity events.

Gwenog had in fact done rather little to earn this reputation (off the pitch, at least), besides the fact that her mother was one of the infamous Zabini witches. Infamous, that is, for manipulating and using men for their own personal gain, and being rumoured to later dispose of the bodies in incredibly creative ways. Not that any of the rumours were true... or at least, not proven.

In person, she was in fact quite friendly.

She greeted Ianto's father warmly, and then cooed over Ianto as if he really was the child he still appeared to be. "All grown up, from what I hear." she laughed at him. Then she turned to Jack, and nodded politely, "And this must be Jack Harkness. I've heard a great deal about you."

"All horribly offensive, I hope." Jack said innocently, causing both Ianto and his father to stifle laughter.

Gwenog just smiled, and shrugged vaguely, "Naturally." she said sweetly, "Now I'm afraid we really should be getting on with this." She gestured for them to follow her into a comfortable living room.

Framed posters and portraits of Quidditch players, lined the walls, all women and all dressed in the same shimmering green, so-dark-it's-nearly-black, robes with white trim and an emblem resembling a golden talon on the chest. Gwenog was in most of these pictures.

The room itself was decorated in dark woods and the exact same shade of green as the Quidditch robes, which somehow managed to make it look quite tasteful in spite of the sheer number of posters, sporting trophies, and in one cabinet a collection of different Beater's bats and dead Bludgers, on display.

"You have each prepared your secrets beforehand, I assume?" Gwenog asked them, while simultaneously waving a hand towards a nearby leather couch. It really did resemble the furniture in the Slytherin common room, except everything here was in a darker shade of green.

They all sat down, nodding or murmuring positive responses. There was just something about this woman that commanded obedience, and they _were_ on her home turf, right now, too.

The preparation of these secrets involved the subjects of the secret each writing down their part of it. For example, Gwen had to write '_When I'm not at Hogwarts, I, Gwen Elizabeth Cooper, stay at-_' and the full address right up to the fact it was on the planet Earth, followed by, '_And I place my trust in Jack Harkness to keep this secret_'. Then Owen had to write exactly the same thing except with his own name instead of Gwen's, then Tosh did the same, and then Ianto. And Jack now held that note in his hand.

"Excellent. Ifan, we'll begin with you, then, shall we?" Gwenog pulled a wooden chair away from a nearby (trophy-covered) desk, and placed it directly in front of Ifan before settled herself there, facing him seriously.

Mr Jones nodded, and held out his hands with his note in one palm. Gwenog placed her hand over the note and began to speak incantations in some ancient and unfamiliar language, while waving her wand over their joined hands. Jack frowned slightly, as if trying to understand what she was saying, but after a moment even he gave up.

It took ten minutes to cast the spell, including oaths taken by Mr Jones, in which he swore to protect the secret he held.

Then Gwenog withdrew her hand, and before their eyes the paper melted into his hand and disappeared... and while mere minutes ago Jack and Ianto had both heard the exact address of Ianto's childhood home, neither of them could quite recall what it was now.

Then it was Jack's turn.

Gwenog turned to him, and he mimicked Mr Jones, holding his hands out and preparing for the spell to be cast. The incantations sent shivers up his spine, making the moment feel intensely important, and when she asked him, "Do you, Jack Harkness, swear to keep this secret safe, with all your life and soul?"

The significance of his answer seemed to resonate through every fibre of his being, "I, Jack Harkness, swear to keep this secret safe, with all my life and soul."

When it was over, he had to shake himself slightly to get the strange feeling to go away, but he still felt uneasily like he had just changed the entire world with those words.

"We have one more secret, if you don't mind, Aunt Gwenog?" Ianto asked hopefully. His father gave him an odd look, but didn't seem especially bothered by it.

Gwenog simply shrugged, "Not at all, honey." she said sweetly, turning to face him now, "I assume, then, that you will be the Secret Keeper?"

Ianto nodded, holding his hands out to reveal a third piece of paper that he had been holding. While this may have been a surprise to the other two people present, Jack knew perfectly well what it was. He was the subject of the secret, after all.

Gwenog took his hand and began to wave her wand and speak the ancient incantations. "Speak this secret, that it may be bound to you." she commanded.

"Jack Harkness is immortal." Gwenog and Mr Jones both startled at this, but neither attempted to stop in the spellcasting, "He is over a hundred years old. When he dies he always comes back, and when he comes back, all his wounds are healed."

Gwenog stared in shock, but nevertheless continued, asking, "Do you, Ianto Jones, swear to keep this secret safe, with all your life and soul?"

"I, Ianto Jones, swear to keep this secret safe, with all my life and soul." Ianto intoned solemnly.

A few more ancient words from Gwenog and the spell was sealed.

And then Jack's whole world just fell out from under him.

Nothing made sense. He knew that he had offered Ianto a _very big_ secret to protect, but as far as his memory was concerned, it was gone. All gone.

And it was _important_.

The entire world seemed to spin off its axis, and he just couldn't think straight. Major events in his life suddenly ceased to make any sense, and worst of all to his mind, almost an entire year was completely wiped out. Just like when he had left the Agency.

"Oh god, Ianto, my head hurts." he gasped, pained, "What was the secret? Please, tell me."

Ianto looked around at him, with a startled frown, "I- I sort of hoped you'd like not knowing for a while." he muttered, but seeing Jack in pain, he immediately leaned over and whispered in his ear, "You're immortal."

That was all it took, and the universe was suddenly the right way up again.

Jack shuddered almost violently, in relief. That was one hell of a mind-fuck. Not that he would say so out loud in polite company, but still... "Wow."

x x x


	52. You're Just As Sane As I Am

x x x

**Chapter 52: You're Just As Sane As I Am**

x x x

Meanwhile, back at Jack's apartment.

Gwen very suddenly looked up, startled. Something just felt off. Missing, like Retcon. She knew better than to mess with that, now, but she had this eerie feeling that she was missing something very important.

She looked around curiously, to see that the rest of the team also looked a bit confused. Tosh met her eyes and asked quietly, "What is it?"

"Something's missing." Owen muttered, standing up and looking around.

The bedroom door opened at that point, "What the hell is going on?" past-Jack shouted. Thankfully, he was fully clothed. In fact, he had _never_ wandered around the main room of the flat in any state of undress worse than toplessness, and that had only happened the day the team had come home after their first year in Hogwarts.

Come to think of it, that day seemed particularly odd.

Gwen tried to remember why, but drew a complete blank. "Feels like Retcon." she offered helplessly.

"No, Retcon does periods of time, this isn't that." Owen waved dismissively.

"Memory charms?" Tosh offered.

"I- I feel sick." past-Jack mumbled weakly, like he was in pain, as he leaned on the kitchen counter staring at thin air. "There's so much missing... only bits at a time. There's no way this is Retcon." he looked up at Gwen weakly, "And how did you know about that stuff, anyway? It shouldn't exist for another three thousand years."

"You claimed to have invented it, mate." Owen sniped. Jack pulled a face at that, but then groaned and started rubbing his temples as if he had the headache from hell.

Gwen scowled, trying to think of an example of her own. Suddenly she realised that she couldn't remember two weeks after the whole Bilis Manger incident. Or how that had been resolved, for that matter.

"It must be some kind of spell." Tosh insisted, "Memory charms _can_ do things like this, there's no alien devices that I know of which can make you forget little bits throughout a long period of time."

She was already going for one of her charms books, to research this.

Gwen looked to Owen, questioningly.

"Maybe some kind of alien toxin or chemical. Or a potion, I guess." he offered, "It could have been in our breakfast for all we know."

"Wait." Gwen said, thinking very carefully, "Didn't Jack and Ianto say they were both gonna be Secret Keepers? I know Jack's gonna keep where we're staying, and I really can't remember the address of this place right now... what if the other secret's just really really big?"

"Would have to be pretty _damned_ big." Owen grumbled, "I'm leaning towards alien hallucinogens."

Tosh peered almost darkly at Owen, "Not everything is alien, anymore, Owen."

"Not everything's magic, either!" Owen retorted, "Just because it's the newest thing!"

"Guys, stop it." Jack said, trying to sound like he was giving an order, but it just came out as a weak plea, "Headache. Please, pretend I have a hangover, until further notice."

The three teenagers exchanged wary looks, then as one they shrugged. Tosh went right back to her Charms book, while Owen rather reluctantly took out his Potions text, since checking for an alien cause wasn't an option right now. Past-Jack slumped down on the couch and proceeded to sulk dramatically.

Gwen sighed and went back to what she had been doing. She got the oddly calming feeling that she was right this time, and everything would sort itself out soon enough.

It was almost an hour later that Jack and Ianto returned, and as soon as the door was firmly closed behind them, Ianto announced clearly, "Jack's immortal."

"Oh, yes!" past-Jack shouted out, in a tone that expressed thoroughly indecent joy at this information, "Thank you!"

And suddenly it all made sense again. And Gwen smiled happily. She had been right, it _was _ the Fidelius charm.

x x x

Sirius Black was confused. He knew there was something important that he should be remembering right now.

"And this is why I believe that we need to step up the watch on the Prophecy." Snivellus finally deigned to end his incessant ranting for five seconds, and before anyone else could get a word in edgeways Sirius spoke up.

"Something doesn't feel right."

"Fleas again, is it?" Snivellus sniped.

Sirius casually flipped him off, and then tried to explain more to Arthur and Kingsley, "It feels like someone's not told me a Secret." and the emphasis on this made it clear just what sort of secret he was referring to. He made it _sound_ capitalised.

"Oh please, the enemy would never dare indulge in such a naive notion as _trust_." Snivellus snapped.

Sirius glowered at him, "Didn't say that was who I thought it was. I said it feels like I _already knew_ something, and now I don't. It was exactly the same as the five minutes before that treacherous rat reminded me where Lily and James lived. I _recognise_ the feeling."

"Hey, Cujo." Jack Harkness' voice suddenly sounded in his ear, "We've got something important to talk to you about."

Sirius blinked twice, "Y'know what, it's probably nothing." he back-pedalled quickly, "I need to find a fire hydrant or something." he sneered sarcastically, standing up and once more offering Snivellus a rude hand-gesture before turning and leaving the meeting room.

"Fire hydrant? Cute." Owen Harper snickered.

"Talk to me, then, kids." Sirius demanded curtly.

"Jack is immortal."

At these words, the feeling of being left out of the loop evaporated instantly, and he remembered everything again, "Wow, that's a big one. And here I thought the best use of the Fidelius charm was for hiding people or objects... not world-altering concepts."

"Well." Jack said in a diplomatic tone, "We kinda figured if Voldemort ever found out, the planet might implode, so-"

"Yeah, and imagine the damage we could do if we made something like the laws of physics secret." Owen interrupted. Sirius could _hear_ the grin.

"Or the words to the killing curse." Toshiko offered chirpily, "Think of the lives it could save."

"Or the existence of an entire species." Jack offered. A deathly silence followed this statement, and once more Sirius could just picture the other three (or was Gwen there, too?) staring at Jack in blank and shocked confusion... much as Sirius was doing now, at the equally blank wall in front of him. "What? It could have already happened for all you know." Jack said, defensively.

Ianto sighed dramatically, "I hate when he does that... can never tell when he's joking."

"_WE KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING OFF ABOUT YOU!_" Fred Weasley suddenly crowed over the commlink.

"_THIS IS BLOODY BRILLIANT!_" George cheered, "Best bit of eavesdropping we've done this decade!" Sirius could only know which Weasley was which because Fred _always_ spoke first. Always.

"You know you physically can't tell anyone, right?" Ianto asked somewhere between put out that they had heard and smug that they couldn't pass the information on.

"Oh, who cares!" Fred laughed, "Hey, what about decapitation?"

"Burned alive?"

"Killing curse?"

"Drowning?"

"Fire and drowning? You're so unimaginative Gred."

"Hey, you're Gred I'm Forge!"

"That's it, I'm turning this thing off and going back into the meeting. Snivellus is very slightly less annoying." Well that was a lie, but he still didn't care, right now, "Goodbye."

x x x

"So if someone did decapitate an immortal, would they re-grow a new head or a new body?" Fred asked.

"Or would they have to wait until the two got put back together again?" George added.

It was a week after Ianto had told Sirius the secret, and the twins were still going on about it. They had been forced to word it very carefully in neutral contexts. '_If someone were immortal_'... not '_so if you were killed this way_'... but they had done it. Persistently. The team had turned off their comms after the first hour. Now the twins had greeted them the instant they had stepped onto Platform Nine And Three Quarters.

"In the movie Highlander, decapitation is final." Owen offered almost cheerfully, as he helped to haul Tosh's school trunk up onto the train.

"Yeah, but-" Fred started, but then he worked his mouth for a full ten seconds with no sound coming out, before finally giving up and swearing in French.

"Hey, I just thought of something!" Tosh said, turning to the twins with a grin, "French!"

"What about it?" George asked.

"Well, Voldemort is French." Tosh explained blankly, "The name, I mean. It's a very rough- very bad- translation. It could either mean 'flight from death', or I think more likely, it's a shoddy abbreviation of 'cheater of death'. But if you changed 'mort' to something else in French... well."

A pair of identical grins spread across the twins' faces, and in perfect synch they both said, "Cheater of _shit!_"

"I like it Gred." one of them said eagerly.

"I like it a lot, Forge."

"We must spread the word!"

And so they were off.

"Oh, thank god, they're gone." Gwen whined, hauling her trunk up onto the train, with Owen's help.

"I wonder why they swore in French in the first place." Tosh wondered vaguely.

"I heard their eldest brother's dating that Delacour girl now." Gwen offered by way of explanation.

"I have one more good way of shutting them up, but I'm saving it for emergencies." Jack offered, pulling his own trunk onto the train unaided.

"And that is?" Owen asked.

"Their own evil candy." Jack answered vaguely, now turning to help Ianto with his trunk as well.

"Oh, the ton-tongue toffees?" Owen asked, grinning. Jack answered with a nod and an even broader grin. "How're you gonna force-feed those things to them, then?"

"I was actually just going to talk to them about it." Jack said, shrugging too-innocently, "Suggest alternate applications for smaller doses."

Tosh choked with stifled laughter, Ianto raised one eyebrow in sceptical amusement, and Gwen's eyes widened to comical proportions. They _all_ got what Jack meant, there... and _none_ of them could think of a reasonable retort.

Owen's reaction to the insinuation was somewhat more dramatic. He dropped Gwen's trunk on his own foot, and then proceeded to curse and swear profusely, employing as many graphic and sexually explicit insults as he could come up with.

It managed to go on for about five minutes.

Once Owen had finally run out of obscene things to rant about- and by this point the train had already been moving for some time- they began to search for a compartment on the train. While it was considered just fine to leave most of the luggage where they had gotten onto the train, Tosh wanted to work on some of her projects on the journey, so Jack and Ianto brought her trunk along with them.

They were halfway down the train and still hadn't found a compartment yet, when suddenly the trunk began to feel lighter... and then it floated up out of their hands.

"What the-?" Ianto asked, shocked.

"Here, let me help you with that." a maliciously amused voice called behind them.

All five of them turned to see that the culprit was Ron Weasley. As they watched, he levitated the trunk right up to the roof of the train, and then turned it upside down.

Tosh shrieked as her books, robes, underwear, and pieces of Muggle technology all fell out.

A PDA, a GPS and a Game Boy all shattered on impact, sending pieces of circuitry skittering all over the floor.

"Oh no!" Tosh cried, rushing forward and gathering up the pieces of technology with the sort of abject horror normal people would only express upon witnessing the kicking of puppies. She looked close to tears. "I spent weeks readjusting the power levels so these shouldn't overload in Hogwarts." she said weakly, staring at the dented cover of the PDA she now held.

Ianto knelt next to her, and briefly placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, before staring to help her gather up the books and robes.

Owen glowered threateningly at Ron... pulling a fork from the pocket of his robe and holding it up menacingly. "Oh my god!" Gwen declared indignantly, "Do you just carry that around in case he-?" She waved vaguely at the scattered contents of Tosh's school trunk.

"In case he said something, actually." Owen growled, eyes darting to Ianto for a moment, "Didn't think he was this much of a twat." Owen was sort-of half crouched, in a way that really did look like he was going to pounce on Ron, with the fork as his only weapon.

Ron, for his part, looked thoroughly surprised that the trunk he had upturned was not Jack's or Ianto's. In fact, he was blatantly speechless and his ears were starting to turn a very interesting shade of red.

"What did you just do, Weasley?" another malicious tone, but this time it was the smugly drawling Draco Malfoy, "Picking on third years? Tut tut." he leaned casually against a doorframe, "You guys want me to report him, when we get to Hogwarts? Oh please let me report him."

"We need to let you, now?" Gwen asked blankly.

"Oh, you know how it works, Gwen." Owen answered for him, in a truly dismissive tone, "Can't press charges without witnesses willing to testify."

"You know, if it was anyone else, I'd insist they pay Tosh to replace her broken tech." Gwen hissed darkly, "But those things aren't cheap these days, and we all know how best to insult Ronald Weasley."

Draco's eyebrows shot up at that, "Well here's something new. A Gryffindor I don't detest." And all because she insulted Ron Weasley. Yes, that actually made perfect sense.

"She's Muggle-born you git." Ron snapped, as if making Draco hate her would somehow count as defending Gwen.

Draco just shrugged, "Any friend of Jack Harkness..."

"Careful, Draco. That's a dangerous promise." Jack taunted, grinning.

"No idea what this will do to Muggle toys, but..." Draco waved his wand at the broken pieces of tech in Tosh's hands, "Reparo."

The thing Jack really didn't get about that spell was that you could cast it on any broken thing you had all the pieces of, even if you didn't _know_ how it was supposed to fit together. And sure enough, the three devices reassembled themselves before the team's bewildered eyes.

But then the GPS shorted out, explosively.

The other two seemed intact and unaffected, though.

"Careful you don't electrocute yourself on those, Tosh." Owen warned, eyeing Malfoy with deep scepticism.

"The hell are you playing at Malfoy?" Ron snapped, turning on him and now ignoring the Torchwood team. "You're just trying to make me look like the bad guy here!"

"Is that a flawed representation, Weasley?" Draco asked sceptically, smirking all the same.

"Should we hex him while his back's turned?" Ianto asked in a low whisper, glancing up at Jack. The very fact he was suggesting it said just how bad an impression Ron had managed to make on him.

"This fork literally has his name on it." Owen put in quietly, "And shoulder wounds aren't _that_ serious..."

"You would know." Ianto smirked darkly. That one memorable time that he had actually shot Owen had been in the shoulder, and if Owen's scowl was anything to go by he remembered this detail all too clearly.

"You know what? You can all just piss off!" Ron yelled, before shoving past Draco and storming off in a sulk.

Draco laughed, turning back to the Torchwood team, "So you're gonna let me report him, right?"

"Wrong." Jack said, helping Tosh put the last of her things into the trunk and closing the lid. To the team he quickly commanded, "You guys go find a compartment here, I'll catch up. And Ianto, if you see Harry Potter, you know what to do."

Ianto nodded curtly, and he and Owen began to haul the exceptionally heavy trunk on down the train, with Tosh hovering next to it protectively. Gwen shot one last look over her shoulder at Jack and Draco, then turned and followed the others.

"You're really going to let him get away with doing that to your little girlfriend?" Draco asked.

"She's not my girlfriend." Jack muttered, casually guiding Draco to the end of the carriage.

"Really?" Draco said, glancing back at the team as they departed. "She's cute."

Between the carriages was a semi-enclosed walkway that nobody usually loitered in because it was very noisy and cold, and it was here that Jack stopped and closed the door to speak to Draco, "You know Weasley's right about Gwen and Tosh. They're both Muggle-born."

Draco shrugged, "Doesn't matter anyway. I think Hermione Granger is doable, doesn't mean I'm ever going to act on it."

"So your prejudiced, but you can still ogle the girls even if they're not what you perceive to be your kind?"

"Your point?" Draco asked blankly.

Jack shrugged, "Nevermind. Look, what I need to ask you is what you want to gain from the impending war."

"What do you mean, exactly?" Draco asked warily.

"What do you want?" Jack asked as if it was the simplest question in the world, "And I mean this very specifically, what do you want, not what does your father want or what is expected of you. What do _you_ want?"

Draco stared at him for several tense seconds, before finally shaking his head very slightly, "I'm not really sure."

"Good." Jack grinned brightly as if this was an excellent answer.

"What?" Draco asked blankly, "How is not knowing a good answer?"

"Because it means you're not reading from somebody else's script." Jack laughed, "When you do know the answer, please let me know. I want to stay friends, remember?"

Draco blinked, realising that yes, the word 'friend' had been used several times during their acquaintance. Draco had a gold-digging girlfriend... he had mindless drone henchmen... he had sycophantic hangers-on... but Jack was the only one that had actively sought out his friendship for just that, with no visible strings attached.

"And if I give you the wrong answer, later?" Draco asked sceptically.

Jack shrugged once more, "Just because we're on opposite sides of a war, wouldn't mean we couldn't still be friends. It's been done before." It took a great deal of self-control for him not to say 'I've done it before' the way he would usually boast. But it was true that he had.

And more than just friends, at that.

Draco gave him a sceptically bemused look, "You hate Yaxley and Avery, and you made it very clear why. I think I know where you stand. Either way, I really don't want to lose you as an ally." he hesitated before adding, "Or a friend."

x x x

Harry had had a really bad summer, and the train ride to Hogwarts proved to be no better.

Luna Lovegood was an alright sort, if you could get past the air of weirdness she projected. Neville wasn't good at conversation even with those he was friends with. The result had been a rather boring journey until Ron and Hermione had returned. And then it had gotten worse, with Ron sulking darkly and Hermione seething in righteous indignation.

The only words exchanged were Hermione's angry snap of, "I never thought I'd agree with Malfoy, Ron, but..." She failed to find words- possibly a first _ever_- and instead she had let out an angry almost-growling noise, and proceeded to bury her nose in her book.

Ron hadn't deigned to explain either, simply sulked spectacularly. Harry hated it when the two of them fought, and tended to imagine it was how other kids might feel with their parents fight.

He was actually quite grateful to escape the train, when they finally made it to Hogsmeade station, and was happy to make his way up to the carriages with Luna and Neville instead of sticking around with his usual friends when they were being like this.

"Of course, they're not really magical at all." Luna was explaining chirpily to a befuddled Neville, "It's all just a conspiracy to keep the Muggles out." Harry couldn't even remember what she was talking about, only that it had been started by the words 'disillusionment charms'. Something called 'Weevils' had been mentioned, and whatever _they_ were, they apparently really liked to eat small magical creatures like doxies and jarveys.

"Archie started it." Jack Harkness said, appearing suddenly behind Luna with the unsettling stealth usually reserved for vampires and serial killers in horror movies.

"Doxies, huh?" Ianto Jones asked clearly having followed Jack up here, but not having- or at least not using- the same level of stealth about it, "Must remember that one."

Luna smiled serenely, "Something looks different about you, today, Jack." she said, puzzling for a second, "Did you get new aftershave?"

"It _looks_ different, so it just _has_ to be the aftershave?" Ianto asked sceptically.

Luna shrugged vaguely, and turned around to face thin air in front of the carriage. Which she then began petting as if there was an animal there. Harry stared at her in confusion. Nobody else seemed bothered by her behaviour.

"You guys actually understand her, don't you?" Neville asked warily.

"Nobody understands Luna." Jack said bluntly, "We understand that fact."

"She's petting an imaginary animal." Harry exclaimed in confusion.

"No she's not." Jack said, elbowing Ianto sharply.

Ianto shot Neville and Luna a wary look, before quickly stepping closer to Harry, and before Harry could even ask what was going on Ianto had whispered two words in his ear that suddenly made a whole lot of sense out of why he was so calm and trusting of the Slytherin boy in their midst.

Harry blinked a few times, shook his head as the memories all fell into line again, and then asked, "What-? But-? How did I not know I knew that?"

"Sometimes it's difficult to see what's right in front of your face." Luna said vaguely, and Harry turned around to look at her.

Then he saw the imaginary animal she was still petting. Very much not imaginary anymore.

There were in fact two of them. They looked a bit like black horses, but they were thin and fleshless, like the skin was just stretched right over the bones. Their heads had an unnaturally reptilian look to them, somewhat like a dragon, and huge leathery wings that put him in mind of giant bats, folded back against their bodies. Their eerie white eyes stared unblinkingly in no direction you could really tell when the eyes were _all_ white.

Just something about them really made him feel like if Death himself had a horse, it would be one of these.

Harry stumbled backwards, away from them. "What are those things?" he yelled, shocked.

Neville blinked at him cluelessly, "You didn't notice them before?" he asked blankly, before looking around nervously as if checking for something that he really didn't want to find.

"They're called Thestrals." Ianto said blandly, "And you can only see them if you've seen death... which might be why you couldn't see them before I told you... that." He once more glanced warily at Luna and Neville, still apparently incredibly unsure of having this conversation in front of them.

"How did I even forget about it?" Harry asked, utterly dumbfounded.

"We figured if a certain person ever found out, the planet might just implode." Jack said casually, with a tone of one quoting a line he had said or heard before, but quite liked so decided to repeat it to ever new person he told about this. "So we used the Fidelius charm."

"Oh. But wouldn't that break something?" Luna asked curiously, turning now to face Jack, "A Secret big enough to hide Thestrals too... I don't much care to know _who_ died, but what if somebody else knew and doesn't remember, now, too?"

"Let's see." Ianto said, counting on his fingers, "Jack, Gwen, Owen, Tosh, Lassie, Harry... nope, we've covered everybody."

Jack suddenly turned towards the carriage and hit his head almost violently against the side of it, "You have to tell the Doctor." he mumbled darkly.

"Oh, do I have to?" Ianto protested, "It'd be more fun if we don't."

"Luna's right... might just make his _brain_ implode." Jack explained.

Ianto remained impassive, "Like I said, it'd be more fun if we don't."

x x x


	53. Of Course You Know, This Means War

x x x

**Chapter 53: Of Course You Know, This Means War**

x x x

"_In times of old when I was new,_  
><em>And Hogwarts barely started,<em>  
><em>The founders of our noble school,<em>  
><em>Thought never to be parted.<em>

_United by a common goal,_  
><em>They had the selfsame yearning,<em>  
><em>To make the world's best magic school,<em>  
><em>And pass along their learning.<em>

_'Together we will build and teach!'_  
><em>The four good friends decided,<em>  
><em>And never did they dream,<em>  
><em>That they might some day be divided.<em>

_For were there such friends anywhere,_  
><em>As Slytherin and Gryffindor?<em>  
><em>Unless it was the second pair,<em>  
><em>Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?<em>

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_  
><em>How could such friendships fail?<em>  
><em>Why, I was there and so can tell,<em>  
><em>The whole sad, sorry tale.<em>

_Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those,_  
><em>Whose ancestry is purest.'<em>  
><em>Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those,<em>  
><em>Whose intelligence is surest.'<em>

_Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those,_  
><em>With brave deeds to their name.'<em>  
><em>Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,<em>  
><em>And treat them just the same.'<em>

_These differences caused little strife,_  
><em>When first they came to light,<em>  
><em>For each of the four founders had,<em>  
><em>A house in which they might,<em>

_Take only those they wanted,_  
><em>So, for instance, Slytherin,<em>  
><em>Took only pure-blood wizards,<em>  
><em>Of great cunning, just like him.<em>

_And only those of sharpest mind,_  
><em>Were taught by Ravenclaw,<em>  
><em>While the bravest and the boldest,<em>  
><em>Went to daring Gryffindor.<em>

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,_  
><em>And taught them all she knew,<em>  
><em>Thus the houses and their founders,<em>  
><em>Retained friendships firm and true.<em>

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony,_  
><em>For several happy years,<em>  
><em>But then discord crept among us,<em>  
><em>Feeding on our faults and fears.<em>

_The houses that, like pillars four,_  
><em>Had once held up our school,<em>  
><em>Now turned upon each other and,<em>  
><em>Divided, sought to rule.<em>

_And for a while it seemed the school,_  
><em>Must meet an early end,<em>  
><em>What with duelling and with fighting,<em>  
><em>And the clash of friend on friend.<em>

_And at last there came a morning,_  
><em>When old Slytherin departed,<em>  
><em>And though the fighting then died out,<em>  
><em>He left us quite downhearted.<em>

_And never since the founders four,_  
><em>Were whittled down to three,<em>  
><em>Have the houses been united,<em>  
><em>As they once were meant to be.<em>

_And now the Sorting Hat is here,_  
><em>And you all know the score,<em>  
><em>I sort you into houses,<em>  
><em>Because that is what I'm for,<em>

_But this year I'll go further,_  
><em>Listen closely to my song,<em>  
><em>Though condemned I am to split you,<em>  
><em>Still I worry that it's wrong.<em>

_Though I must fulfill my duty,_  
><em>And must quarter every year,<em>  
><em>Still I wonder whether Sorting,<em>  
><em>May not bring the end I fear.<em>

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_  
><em>The warning history shows,<em>  
><em>For our Hogwarts is in danger,<em>  
><em>From external, deadly foes.<em>

_And we must unite inside her,_  
><em>Or we'll crumble from within,<em>  
><em>I have told you, I have warned you,<em>  
><em>Let the Sorting now begin.<em>"

"Profound, much?" Jack muttered. Draco gave him a wary look, but said nothing. "Kinda like the story." Jack continued, "And the philosophy... but the rhyming scheme needs work." A few students within earshot snickered at this.

Debate would surely have ensued, had Professor McGonagall not glared them all into silence and commenced the Sorting.

Once that was over with, Draco leaned across the table, laughing, "They can't really expect us to befriend the other houses, can they?"

"And why not?" Jack asked defiantly.

"They'd never give us the chance, even if we wanted it." Malcolm put in sulkily.

"But if they did?" Jack asked, vaguely distracted as he looked across the hall to the Gryffindor table.

Malcolm merely shrugged. Draco snorted derisively, and turned adamantly away from Jack.

"Well you would know, wouldn't you, Jack?" Zoe Alderton said from across the table. Everyone knew he had friends in other houses, and this was a very unusual thing for a Slytherin. When it did happen, it was usually only with Ravenclaws. Jack had friends in all four houses.

"I really think it's a Very Good Idea." Jack said pointedly. You could hear the capital letters.

Draco rolled his eyes and waved dismissively.

"If they're civilised to us, we'll be civilised to them, how's that sound?" Blaise Zabini suggested diplomatically.

"Fair deal." Jack said with a nod, "But no sarcastic or underhanded remarks to provoke them."

"Fair deal." Blaise said, bemused. Almost all of the girls within earshot nodded in agreement with him.

The boys were more reluctant, and Draco was ignoring the conversation now. Theo shrugged dismissively with an air that he was a loner anyway and just plain didn't care. Malcolm eventually nodded in agreement as well.

With the evident end of the conversation, they began to eat. The feast was no less spectacular than usual, and Jack was as always impressed by the quality of food that was produced without a shred of modern technology anywhere near it.

Finally, however, even the chocolate puddings disappeared into thin air, and Dumbledore rose to speak.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First-years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students. And a few of our older students ought to know by now, too."

Several people snickered at this, and many stares were directed at various points on the Gryffindor table. Jack chose to grin and wink at Ianto, remembering the Thestral incident.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty second time-" Dumbledore continued cheerfully, "-to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door. We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

A few people- all purebloods, Jack noticed (and was a little disturbed that he had learned to recognise the difference)- applauded weakly for Professor Umbridge.

Jack's eyes narrowed at the woman. Was it really that childish to be considering planting a whoopee cushion on her chair in the Great Hall? He wondered if he could get someone to magic it to be invisible, for added stealth. Oh yeah, it was going to happen, now.

Dumbledore was still talking, however, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the-"

But Professor Umbridge picked that precise moment to stand up, and Dumbledore paused, turning a benignly curious look in her direction.

"Hem, hem." she said, a carefully false and exaggerated clearing of the throat, purely to draw attention to herself.

Dumbledore did appear quite shocked that anyone had dared interrupt his start-of-term announcements, although after Crouch last year, why was he surprised that the new teachers were starting to disrespect him? After only a moment, however, he calmly sat down and regarded Professor Umbridge with intent curiosity.

"Thank you, Headmaster." she said in such a sickeningly sweet tone that sugar suddenly seemed sour, "For those kind words of welcome." Once more she repeated the fake cough, and then launched into a speech of her own, "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

Not one person in the entire Hall looked happy. And that did settle it. If she would treat them like pre-schoolers, then Jack would become quite determined to act it. Just for her benefit. The invisible whoopee cushion would just be for starters.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" Umbridge powered on in spite of the icy lack-of-reaction her greeting received.

There was something infernally deliberate about that little cough of hers that made Jack want to shove her head through the base of a drum kit while the Master held the sticks. He smiled maliciously at the mental image, and a couple of nearby Slytherins had the common sense to edge away from him.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction." Jack snapped out of his childish reverie and very suddenly started to pay attention, as she began to speak the official language of bureaucracy. This could _not_ be good. "The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Here she paused to make a little bow to her fellow teachers, and when she coughed purposefully once more Jack had had to consciously force himself not to linger for too long on the relatively happy image of a Cyberman stomping on her head.

He glanced across the hall to see Ianto taking notes, Tosh listening with blank and disgusted interest, Gwen looking around in confusion to see if anyone else understood a word of what the woman was saying, and Owen clutching his fork in a vice-grip that had Ron Weasley shooting nervous looks down the Gryffindor table at him.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation, because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down at the end of it, and Dumbledore initiated some very pathetic applause which not a single Slytherin joined in. It was only a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who were just trying to be polite. One sharp look from Ianto managed to silence the nervously clapping first-years in his house, and the Ravenclaws stopped when they realised that they were alone.

Eventually, Dumbledore stood to finish his own announcements.

"Oh, I get it." Jack muttered darkly, while Dumbledore went on about Quidditch schedules. His fellow Slytherins gave him odd looks for it, and he shrugged vaguely, "She's got to go."

"She's a Defence teacher." Zoe observed idly, "It's only a matter of time."

"Not soon enough." Theo declared with determination. It was clear from his vehemence that he also _got_ it. "We need to accelerate the process. A la Lockhart."

Several of the older students, including Draco, laughed at that, causing some very suspicious looks to be aimed their way by the rest of the school.

Jack may not know who Lockhart was, but the way Theo said it made it clear that this woman was to be _broken_. Which suited his purposes just fine.

x x x

As the rest of the school was beginning to file out after the feast, Gwen turned to Owen and Ianto, "What was that about?"

"It seems that we may have a few moral issues with our Defence teacher this year." Ianto said blandly, "Like how to avoid being arrested after what I do to her."

"Get in line, mate." Owen said venomously, "I need more forks."

"I really don't get it." Gwen said weakly.

Jack and Tosh joined them at this moment, "It's quite simple, really. The Ministry of Magic are attempting to undermine the Headmaster." Tosh explained. "When you put this in the light of the Daily Prophet articles about him, it's clear that they're trying to pick any tiny little holes they can out into a reason to get him fired. Or worse, arrested."

"Yeah. No maiming, please, Ianto." Jack added amicably, "Let's just break her spirit instead. Much more fun that way."

Owen grinned a shark's grin, "Yeah. Let's."

"Hey! Hey, you lot! Midgets!" Ron Weasley yelled in the vague direction of a group of Gryffindor first-years.

"Ron!" Hermione chided just as loudly.

"Well, they are, they're titchy." Weasley countered defensively.

Ianto made the very slightest gesture with his left hand, and suddenly Ron Weasley yelped in pain, whimpered, looked around in confusion, then ran off.

"What... did you just do?" Owen asked, staring at Ianto with awe, and possibly even some degree of respect.

"One of about six spells I know so far that doesn't come with flashy lighting effects. Very immature, but I really didn't want to be identified." Ianto sighed, and looked down at the ground in some degree of shame at his bout of immaturity, "It was a wedgie. I found it in a book of jinxes, in the library last year."

Gwen stared, as amusement and disapproval warred for control of her face. Tosh smiled faintly. Jack grinned and wrapped an arm around Ianto's shoulders, hugging him briefly to show his approval.

"Oh, that's brilliant, mate!" Owen yelled gleefully.

x x x

On the morning of the first official day of the school term, Albus Dumbledore made his way into the Great Hall for breakfast to note the unusually early presence of Messers Fred and George Weasley, along with Owen Harper and Jack Harkness, all conspiring eagerly over something the twins had.

So a prank was afoot, already? And it was only the first day! How delightful.

Dumbledore settled himself in his grand chair, and began eating his banana porridge. He occasionally glanced at the conspiring children, but decided it best not to interfere. Not one of these four had ever broken a truly important school rule, thus far. In fact, neither of the third years had been apprehended breaking _any_ school rules.

It would be most amusing to see what they had in store for this surprisingly sunny autumn morning.

Other students and teachers filed in as the time for classes drew ever nearer, and eventually the hall was almost entirely full. The four boys made no effort to act upon whatever misdeed they had been planning, and Albus began to wonder if it was perhaps for later in the day.

But then, a few minutes after Harry Potter and his friends, Hermione Granger and a very irritable Ronald Weasley, entered the Hall, Dolores Umbridge deigned to join the staff table, as well.

She sat down upon her chair with the most spectacular resonance of flatulence that Albus had ever heard.

The entire hall erupted into uproarious laughter, including three of the four prime suspects. Jack Harkness merely smirked, meeting Dumbledore's eyes pointedly as he did so.

Well, that was most certainly an amusing way to start off the school year. Quite the best that Albus had seen since James Potter and Sirius Black had turned the long wooden Slytherin table into a herd of badgers. And rather less disruptive, in the long run, too.

Had circumstances not been as they were, he might well have applauded their effort.

x x x

That very morning was Torchwood's first Defence Against The Dark Arts class with Dolores Umbridge- the entire third year in one class, which was unusual in itself- and Owen had arrived early. Something was fundamentally wrong with that, and it worried Ianto.

Owen actually snickered when Umbridge sat down at her desk and began sorting through the parchments there. It was then that Ianto noticed a note on his desk. There was one on every desk, as a matter of fact. All the students had their favourite seats, and it seemed whoever had planned this had done it very carefully.

Ianto's note said;

'_Seymour Butts._  
><em>P.S. Remember it.<em>  
><em>This is for the whole year.<em>'

He was not impressed, and his sense of foreboding multiplied a hundred-fold.

It was at this point that Professor Umbridge strode into the room with an entirely unnecessary spring in her step. She turned around cheerfully to face the class, "Well good morning, everyone." she said brightly.

Uncertain looks were exchanged across the classroom, and only a few people muttered a response.

"Oh, no, that won't do at all, now, will it?" she chided, "I should like you, please, to reply 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge'. One more time, please. Good morning, class!"

"Good morning Professor Umbridge." everyone intoned after her, like the meek little drones she wanted them to be.

Owen scribbled a note on a piece of parchment and pocketed it very quickly.

"There, now." the Professor chirped happily, "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please. We will begin with roll call." she announced, so perfectly prim and proper it made even Ianto want to puke. She cleared her throat in that annoying high-pitched way she had, and read from the list. "Anita Bath."

"Here." Gwen answered promptly. Ianto noticed several students cover their mouths in stifled laughter. Jack and Owen were amongst them, and even Tosh was smiling at it.

"Mya Butreeks." Umbridge continued, oblivious.

"Here." Romilda Vane answered, smiling a bit more than necessary, but doing her best to keep a straight face.

"Seymour Butts."

"Here." Ianto answered in his usual perfect deadpan.

"Jenny Cidal." Umbridge continued.

"Here." Lucy Rosier answered. The muffled snickering throughout the class was surprisingly restrained. It was as if the entire class _wanted_ this to go off without a hitch. Ianto really couldn't blame them.

"Oliver Closoff."

"Here." Marcus Belby said with a little bit too much glee.

"Ayma Dommy."

"Here." that was Lindsay Davies.

"Ben Dover."

"Here." was Albert Cadwallader.

"Martha Fawker."

"Here." Elaine Gibbon.

Ianto stared in amazement as it just kept on going. Eyepi Freely, Eve Hill, Amanda Hugginkis, Ivana Humpalot, Tanya Hyde, Sue Izide.

"Hugh Jass."

"Here." Mark Avery.

"Al Kaholic."

"Here!" was, unsurprisingly, Owen himself.

"Dawn Keebals."

"Here." Demelza Robins.

"Joe Kerr."

"Here." Malcolm Radford.

"Alex-Blaine Layder."

"Here." that was Tosh.

Ianto was genuinely impressed with the effort Owen had put into this stunt, having come up with names for the entire class.

Daryl Lect, Moe Lester, Sirius Lidum, Connie Lingus, Yoma Masofat, Misty Meanor, Harris Mint, Ima Nediat, Di O'Bolic, Peter Pantz, Drew Peacock, Zoltan Pepper, Stu Pitt, Bea O'Problem, Emma Roids, Mike Rotchburns, Boyd Schidt, Eric Shun, Homer Sekzual.

"Franklin Stein."

"Here." Samuel Braithwaite.

And finally, "Andy Structible."

"Here!" Jack answered, positively gleeful.

This school year had suddenly become a great deal more interesting.

x x x

Owen paid very careful attention as Professor Umbridge outlined her lesson plan.

'_Defence Against the Dark Arts A Return to Basic Principles._'

"It seems your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see by even your third year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified."

"I'll rectify you." Owen muttered under his breath, far too quietly for even his neighbouring students to hear, let along the teacher five rows of desks away.

"We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

'_Course Aims:_  
><em>1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.<em>  
><em>2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.<em>  
><em>3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.<em>'

"Has everybody got a copy of '_Defensive Magical Theory_' by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

Owen had very briefly read (skimmed over) the textbook the previous night, and not a word of it was worth the paper it was written on. He had picked up a more comprehensive theoretical knowledge on the subject of self-defence in his _first day_ working ER as a doctor.

A few people murmured a positive response to the question.

"I think we'll try that again." she cooed, "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, 'Yes, Professor Umbridge', or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. So, has everyone got a copy of '_Defensive Magical Theory_' by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge." everyone intoned dully.

Owen made another note.

"Good." Umbridge simpered, "I should like you to turn to page five and read '_Chapter One, Basics for Beginners_'. There will be no need to talk."

Owen bowed his head and began to pretend to read. Oh, he had big plans for this one. Very big plans indeed.

x x x

The weather had deteriorated from an attempt at sunshine to a misty drizzle, by the time Harry Potter skulked up to the Defence classroom that afternoon.

He was a little surprised to see that several of the students were reading little slips of parchment. It also looked like Dean Thomas was the originator of these notes for the Gryffindor students. Draco Malfoy was passing around similar notes to the Slytherins, Ernie Macmillan to the Hufflepuffs, and Padma Patil to the Ravenclaws.

A couple of Slytherin girls seemed to be trying to _barter_ their notes with a group of Hufflepuffs, even offering the reluctant Hufflepuff girls gold to sweeten the deal! It was Malfoy who put a stop to it, "No, if you trade you'll break the system." he ordered sharply, causing Pansy Parkinson to sulk dramatically.

Dean waved to Harry and Ron, "Sorry, guys. You two are too high-profile. Just try not to laugh, okay?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a very worried look.

By the time he left the classroom, it all made sense.

In spite of earning himself a detention for speaking his mind about Voldemort, Harry still couldn't help but snicker at some of the creative names that had passed quite literally right under Professor Umbridge's nose.

Lavender Brown and Parvarti Patil had claimed the names Eliza Lott and Kanya Filmee, respectively.

Hermione had shown a shocking level of cooperation with the prank, answering to the name of Paige Turner.

Harry was one of only four people in their class to get his real name, and the justification Dean had offered was that you just couldn't fool even the apparently oblivious Umbridge as to _his_ identity. Malfoy, Ron and a Hufflepuff girl called Susan Bones were the other three, all of whom were apparently too closely linked to the Ministry to get away with it.

Even the Slytherins had gone along with the game, with some shockingly only-really-funny-to-Muggles names including Alec Tricity, Ellie Vader, and Jenny Tick.

Somebody was uniting all four houses to a single purpose, and that could mean only one thing.

So it was that Harry decided to ambush Jack Harkness and his gang on the way out of the Great Hall after dinner. Before he did so, however, he managed to catch a fair bit of their excited conversation.

"Two hundred and eighty names, Owen!" Gwen cried in amazement, "How did you _do_ it?"

"It's a talent." Owen said smugly, "That and I watched _way_ too many Simpsons episodes."

"I'm honestly impressed." Jack said, laughing, "I worked at the Agency for twenty years, and in that time all of my co-workers combined never managed to come up with half that many indecent aliases."

"Okay, so she's got a 'good morning professor what's-your-name-again?' thing going on." Owen said, carefully making a note with a bright red quill, "This means we should try to get the afternoon classes saying morning, and the morning classes saying afternoon. Should be simple enough." Another note. "Also, I'd like to try to train them to bark like UNIT, 'YES SIR PROFESSOR UMBRIDGE SIR!'"

"Can be arranged." Ianto nodded, "Cedric thinks this whole thing is wonderful, and he's set up a House meeting to get everyone else up to speed for tomorrow."

Tosh nodded, "I think I'll ask Lilah to do the same thing."

"But let's give it a week or so before we go any further than the names." Ianto continued efficiently, "We don't want to use up _all_ our A-material in the first week, do we?"

It was at this point that Harry made his presence known, "Um, guys..."

"Oh, hey Harry." Jack said brightly, "I meant to talk to you yesterday, but you seemed a bit preoccupied." True enough, Harry had been far too busy on the carriage ride up to the school, staring at the Thestrals, to even consider the other people in the carriage with him.

"It was you lot that did the names thing, wasn't it?" Harry asked.

"That was me." Owen crowed, grinning.

"And the whoopee cushion?"

"My birthday present to Dumbledore." Jack offered cheerfully. Harry stared, confused by that. Would it really have been so difficult for the Slytherin to just say 'yes, I did it'? No, he had to create more unanswered questions instead. Typical.

When was Dumbledore's birthday, anyway?

"Right..." Harry said slowly, in an 'I'm going to back away slowly now if you don't start making more sense' sort of way.

"Dumbledore wanted me to talk to you about something." Jack said suddenly, which did surprise Harry. Jack did _not_ like Dumbledore, but here he was conveying a message, now? Strange. "In private?"

Harry looked at the other third-years, to see surprise and confusion on all their faces. Except Owen, who just seemed to think it was funny, for some reason.

"Alright." Harry said warily, "When?"

"Right now is good?" Jack offered, grinning, "I've already got Draco managing the Slytherin side of the rebellion against our Defence teacher, so I've got free time."

Harry shrugged vaguely, "Okay, but this better not take long. I have a lot of homework to do."

x x x


	54. It's Occlumency, Jim

x x x

**Chapter 54: It's Occlumency, Jim, But Not As We Know It**

x x x

Jack led Harry up to the room that he and Ianto usually met in, on the seventh floor. It was the best place in the castle for a private conversation. Or pretty much anything else you wanted to do in private, but all he wanted right now was to explain the whole telepathic-defence thing.

As they stepped into the room, both boys looked around in surprise. "Hey, this place is cool!" Harry said brightly.

"It's... changed a bit over the summer." Jack conceded.

The decorations had changed from cosy and intimate with artificial lighting, to airy and kind of pastel with high windows. The couch he had some very fond memories of was nowhere to be seen. In its place were two comfy chairs within arm's reach of each other and a table, which was at the perfect height for casual studying without craning you neck like a coffee table, or feeling like you were still in class like a normal desk.

There was also a new, and well-filled bookshelf off to one side, with a few eye-catching titles like '_How To Read Minds_', '_Occlumency For Beginners_' and '_Think Of A Number, Any Number_'.

Harry wandered over to the bookshelf and scanned it briefly, with an entirely disinterested sort of idle curiosity. "So what did you have to talk about?" he asked carefully, before turning back to face Jack.

"Well our beloved Headmaster finally figured out just how good I am at keeping people out of my mind." Jack said with a dismissive shrug, and before Harry could comment, he continued quickly, "It was my own fault, I deliberately projected a single thought to him, and he couldn't help but notice I wasn't letting anything else slip. He thought you ought to learn to shield your mind, and for some reason he got the impression I could teach you."

Harry stared in amazed bemusement, "You're kidding, right?"

"Not in the slightest." Jack said seriously, "He thinks with Voldemort back, you need all the practical training you can get."

"That's what I tried to tell Umbridge!"

"Oh, forget about her." Jack dismissed, laughing, "Her class is about to become a public advertisement for the Weasley twins' impending joke shop. Once Owen's had his fun with her, anyway. I'm just suggesting an hour a week, or so, to work on keeping old snake-face from ever getting into your head again."

Harry laughed nervously at the remark against Umbridge, but became serious again at the mention of Voldemort, however irreverently worded it may have been. "Alright, so what do I have to do?"

Jack smirked almost evilly, "Don't think about elephants." Alright, so the usual Agency method was to start with the command; '_Don't think about sex_', but this still worked the same way from a training perspective... and was a bit more child-friendly.

Harry blinked, and then began to frown in concentration.

Jack allowed a few seconds to pass in silence, before laughing, "You're thinking about elephants, aren't you?"

Harry flushed with embarrassment, "I can't help it."

"Yeah, this is the first mistake in mental defences. Almost everyone does it, until they're told how not to." Jack said, making a gesture for Harry to sit down. Once they were both settled, he continued, "If you don't want the mind-reader to see it, the amateur will almost certainly start up a chant in his mind; '_Don't think about elephants, don't think about elephants_', until all he can picture is a whole damned herd of elephants."

Harry laughed as well. He just couldn't seem to help it. And it was clearly perfectly true, as well. He _was_ thinking about a herd of elephants.

"The trick is to have something else to think about, instead." Jack explained, leaning on the arm of his chair, so that they almost had their heads together conspiratorially, now, "Something harmless, but persistent. Something you can easily keep your focus on, like, oh I don't know, Quidditch strategies or something."

Harry blinked, and while Jack was incapable of any level of telepathy without physical contact, he could almost _see_ Harry's brain switch into Quidditch mode there. Until, "So what do you think about?" he asked, looking up at Jack.

"You do _not_ want to know." Jack said, with a grin, "Suffice it to say, I've kept two of the most dangerous telepathic creatures in the universe out of my head simply because of the fact that one of the three things I use as a mental shield offends them both so very much."

Harry stared, wearing an expression directly between disbelief and awe. "Wait, three?" he suddenly asked, after almost ten seconds of silence.

"Yes, you can vary it up depending on what you know of your opponent. For Dumbledore, I used some pretty graphic violence that'd put Freddy Krueger to shame. For some people I've used memories of physical or emotional pain. The other one, well... like I said, you don't want to know. But back to you, now... from the rumours I've heard, Voldemort is an enemy you really do know quite well."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, curious.

"Can you think of anything that truly repels him?"

Harry frowned, "Love. When I fought him in my first year, he couldn't touch me because of the protective magic of my mother's love. It... it burned him. For real, like his face turned to ash when I grabbed it."

"Well you'd need to be careful with that one." Jack warned, "Feeling the emotion, but not thinking about any living person. The last thing you want to do is make them a target."

Harry stared in horror at the very thought, but then nodded weakly in agreement, "Maybe... I could treat him like a Dementor? My best memories, when I conjure the Patronus spell, they're usually of my parents."

Jack nodded, "That could work." He thought about it for a second, "Don't suppose there's any chance you could teach me that spell? It's just... well..."

"Well it's really hard." Harry said carefully, "You saw how impressed everyone was at the trial that I can do it now, and I'm two years... er, well, ahead of you."

Jack waved dismissively, "Don't worry about it. Sorry, but I'm gonna give you homework here."

Harry glared balefully.

"Just think about things you can use to completely occupy your mind, and preferably put off anyone trying to read it. I want you to have at least three different ones, by next time we meet." he grinned at Harry's disgruntled expression. "Of course, when that is will be your decision. The sooner we do this again, the better your chances are of defending yourself, but I don't want to earn you a detention for missing out on your real homework, or anything like that."

Harry laughed, relieved, "Alright, I guess. I'll let you know then?"

x x x

Owen had to race down from the tower at an extraordinary pace, the next morning. He had spent a bit too long going over the finer points of Operation: Umbridge Torture, with the Weasley twins, for that morning's seventh-year class. Now he'd missed breakfast... and more importantly, he'd missed _coffee_.

When he finally made it down to Care of Magical Creatures, it was to see that everyone was already split into groups of four or five, each group surrounding a different one of about half a dozen cats.

_Cats?_ Cats weren't magical creatures!

Jack was with his three Gryffindor girlfriends, Demelza, Romilda and Vicky, who were all taking turns to pet a black-and-white cat that with the right distance and some bad lighting might be mistaken for a miniature cow. The cat kept directing dark glares and occasionally even vehement hisses in Jack's direction. Jack wisely kept his distance, allowing the girls to calm the animal down.

"What the-?" Owen mumbled, standing over where Jack was crouched in the stinking dewy grass.

"It's a Kneazel." Jack said, "They're to cats what wizards are to Muggles, and if you'd gotten here on time you'd already know that, now sit down before she sees you!"

Owen very reluctantly knelt on the damp ground, eyeing the cat suspiciously. It had an unusually pointed face, bigger-than-average ears, and an incredibly bushy tail that would put most toilet-brushes to shame. "What're we supposed to be doing with these things, anyway?"

"Making friends." Vicky sneered at him, "They're far more intelligent than normal cats. Smart as some humans, just they can't talk is all."

Owen pulled a face, "With Crabbe and Goyle in the gene pool, I've met _fish_ smart as 'some humans'." he sniped back. Of course, the in-joke that made Jack snicker wasn't even what he meant. No, he didn't mean alien blowfish. Nor did he mean mermaids, for that matter. He meant _goldfish_.

By the end of class, which was downright boring and far too outdoorsy for Owen's tastes, he determined to sleep in on Tuesday mornings from then on.

Sleep in or plot the ultimate downfall of Dolores Umbridge. Whatever he felt like... in his mind, this just became a free period. Sure, he'd still have to show up for the shorter afternoon Care of Magical Creatures class later in the week, but that, he decided, was when he would catch up on what he'd missed.

He also decided at that moment that while he would skive unrepentantly, he would still make sure to ace the end-of-year test, just to spite anyone who claimed said skiving was a bad thing.

x x x

That afternoon was Torchwood's first Divination class.

The instant Jack walked into the room, Professor Trelawney swooned and started predicting his doom, "Oh, my poor dear boy, I fear death is stalking you! I can almost see his bony hands reaching out to take you from us as we speak!"

Owen, who was right behind Jack, grinned maliciously and grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to startle him. To his credit, Jack didn't even flinch.

"Oh, the darkness that follows you is all-consuming! Shadows falling!" Trelawney wailed.

Jack just gave her a cheerful wink, and led Owen, Ianto and Gwen (Tosh was taking Arithmancy), over to a small table at the far side of the room from their deranged teacher. "Something tells me this class is going to be fun." he said brightly. The others were also grinning from ear to ear.

"The Grim! I see the Grim!" Trelawney cried.

"Oh, that reminds me." Jack said, turning to Ianto, "How did Ancient Runes go, this morning?"

Ianto shrugged, "Very basic stuff, nothing interesting."

Of course, while a few other students gave Jack odd looks for his utterly unconcerned and apparently random change of subject, the Torchwood team members knew what that was about. The Chamber of Secrets, and the runic inscription they had failed to translate the previous year.

Jack wondered if there was perhaps some other way of dealing with it.

But then the Professor got over her little bout of impending doom, and began to instruct the class in the art of reading tea-leaves. Ianto wrinkled his nose in distain as they were forced to actually _drink_ the tea, and Jack was on several occasions sorely tempted to spit out a mouthful of the rank and far-too-strong stuff all over Mark Avery, who was sitting at the next table with Lucy Rosier and a pair of Ravenclaws.

Finally, however, they got to the fun part.

They traded their mugs with each other, and began trying to figure out what it meant.

"Yours looks a bit like a question mark, Jack." Ianto said, peering at the book, "Which means... a need for caution."

"Duh." Owen mumbled, "Hey, Gwen. This is like a circle, or a ring, or something. That can mean success, marriage, or... oh, you're gonna have a baby!"

Gwen hit him, blushing and grinning at what must have been the idea of that being true to their real lives in the future. She then began looking up the book for whatever she had seen in the cup in her hands, "It's a straight line, right down the middle of the cup, Ianto. And the book says straight lines- mind you the book says it like more than one- mean progress."

And of course it doesn't explain what you're meant to progress _in_, either." Owen put in darkly.

"I've got a suggestion." Jack teased, grinning and winking at Ianto.

"Oh yes, let's all hear about _that_." Owen sniped, "Come on, Jack. What's mine?"

Jack finally deigned to look at the cup in his hand, and then proceeded to look up the book. It really wasn't proper fortune-telling unless you memorised the meanings, Owen thought darkly. But finally, Jack said, "Well it looks like a triangle. Which according to this means 'something unexpected'."

"Yeah, and why get your fortune read in the first place, if they're just gonna tell you that?" Owen griped sulkily, "This is bullshit."

"Sceptic." Jack chided, laughing, "You know we can always make up our own fortunes. Or tell the real truth. It's not like she can prove us wrong."

"Yeah." Gwen giggled, "Easy pass, when we're _from_ the future, right?"

"That _is_ why we took this class, isn't it?" Ianto asked, bemused.

"Of course it is." Jack agreed.

But Owen got the last word, "I still think it's bullshit."

x x x

The next week, the Torchwood team were gathered around the Daily Prophet, at the Ravenclaw table. Everyone in the school was reading their own copy, or sharing with their neighbours. It was virtual silence, as the entire school soaked in the news.

Dolores Umbridge was now officially titled Hogwarts High Inquisitor, with the right to audit any class in the school, to determine if the teachers were worthy of retaining their long-held and mostly successful jobs.

"Well." Owen said, sitting back second, shortly after Tosh had finished. "We need to do something about this."

"What are you suggesting?" Gwen asked warily.

"The classes she audits need to be perfect." Ianto said, looking up at the others, "Owen, can you do this?"

"You get the Hufflepuffs, I've got the Gryffindors." he replied, grinning malevolently.

Ianto looked up at Jack, who nodded slowly, "I'll see what I can do."

It didn't take long- only the very next day- for a member of the team to witness an audit.

Gwen sat in the back of her Muggle studies class, watching intently as Umbridge took notes on Professor Burbage's performance as a teacher. The entire class were sitting quietly, writing dutifully, as per the proper lesson plan. It had been well over ten minutes since they had _all_ finished reading the leaflets Gwen had passed out.

But then Umbridge dared to interrupt. "Hem hem."

Gwen's fist tightened a little around her quill, almost snapping it but not quite. Then she looked up, forcing herself to feign interest in an overly, overtly attentive way that she had learned to do solely for the benefit of her supervisor when she had been a beat officer.

"I would like to ask a few questions of your students, if you don't mind, Miss Burbage?"

"It's Mrs." Professor Burbage corrected, in a tone that clearly said that she did mind. Umbridge took no notice.

"Just a little pop quiz, then." Umbridge simpered, "Who can tell me how often, on average, a Muggle will notice something out of the ordinary, when it is directly under their nose?"

Gwen bristled silently. Try visiting Cardiff sometime, you old hag.

Albert Cadwallader raised his hand, and Umbridge politely turned to him with a nod. "Less than once in a hundred, Professor Umbridge." he intoned in the perfect droning they all knew that the woman expected.

Burbage stared in confusion, a few steps behind Umbridge where the rotten old bat couldn't see her shocked expression.

"Quite right, my dear." Umbridge nodded, "And who can tell me the most impressive Muggle invention in history?" This time a Ravenclaw girl called Melinda Bobbin raised her hand. "Yes?" Umbridge nodded to her.

"Combustion engines." Melinda answered.

"Indeed. Excellent." Umbridge made a distinctive tick on her clipboard, and turned sharply to a rather bewildered Professor Burbage, "I think that will be all." And with one more curt nod and a despicably smug smile, she marched primly out of the room.

Gwen sighed in relief, and started to tear up her copy of the leaflet entitled '_The Monotony Of Muggles_', by Dolores Umbridge, which she had found and made multiple copies of from the library.

Other students eagerly followed her lead. A couple even set their copies on fire.

"Sorry, Professor Burbage." Albert said quickly, "I know it's almost always, really."

"Yes, and never underestimate a computer!" Melinda quickly chirped up, over the little mini-bonfire on her desk.

Professor Burbage smiled wryly at them, "Very good, class. Five points each to both of you, and... who, may I ask is behind this?"

"A Gryffindor and a Slytherin, Miss." Albert piped up brightly.

Professor Burbage laughed heartily, "Then five points each to them, and that does make us even again."

That evening at dinner, Owen's head made a violent impact with the desk when he sat down next to Gwen. "Trelawney crashed and burned." he mumbled, "I just got word from Dean Thomas. Personal fail on Trelawney's part. They tried to salvage the situation, but it was too late. 'The Inner Eye does not See upon command', my arse!"

Gwen tilted her head to one side, picturing it. It was a bad picture. "Thanks, Owen." she muttered sarcastically.

He snorted, "How was your inspection?"

"We ruled." she said brightly, "Who ever knew that the library could be used for good, as well as homework!" she laughed.

Hermione Granger was, unfortunately, _not_ within earshot.

x x x

Within the first two weeks of term, morning and afternoon Defence lessons had become interchangeable.

Owen had made a _rota_ for it, giving out the marching orders to each class in advance, to ensure that everybody got it right. The conspiracy was so perfect, so pure. Even the other teachers seemed to know enough to just give her pitying 'I have no idea what you're talking about' looks when she brought it up.

Umbridge herself was seriously beginning to think it was all in her head.

She tried to counter it with 'Good day, class.'- or perhaps she truly forgot what time of day it was at any given time- but the collective student body unrepentantly ploughed on with the plan.

It was Saturday afternoon, on only the second weekend of term, when something entirely unprecedented happened at Hogwarts.

Harry Potter approached the Slytherin house table. Admittedly, he did so with caution, but still he did it. He had every right to be nervous, really. He had never done this before in his life. Gone over to enemy territory... to speak to a friend.

Jack was in deep conversation with Malfoy, explaining something in great detail, and repeatedly pointing to various places on a piece of parchment. Draco was nodding, and grinning eagerly, even laughing at one point.

Malfoy noticed Harry before Jack did, and looked up with a glare, "What do _you_ want, Potter?" he spat.

"Dumbledore's orders. I'm supposed to talk to Harkness about school work." Harry tilted his head to one side, glancing at the now-visible parchment, "Something you clearly haven't been doing recently, Malfoy."

Malfoy was just about to insult him when Jack spoke up, "Oh dear gods! Either beat each other up, snog each other senseless, or just shut the hell up. I honestly do not care which! But kindly stop throwing your antagonistic teenage impersonations of testosterone over the top of my head!"

A nearby Slytherin boy, and three girls, all giggled at this outburst. Malfoy paled, and shot a venomous glare at Jack. Harry blushed crimson at the very idea of what the younger Slytherin had just said.

Jack then actually looked around at Harry, and grinned, "So another study session, then?"

"Yeah. If you have the time." Harry said, still blushing fiercely.

"Oooh, what're you two _studying?_" one of the giggly Slytherin girls asked in a teasing tone.

Harry blushed again, but Jack answered, "Something that requires absolutely no physical exertion." The way he said it seemed almost _too_ perfectly innocent, "It was one of the conditions of the arrangement, so the Gryffindors can feel safe that the enemy Quidditch team aren't trying to steal his secrets." And with that he stood up and allowed Harry to lead him out of the Great Hall.

They didn't speak until they were up in the private room on the seventh floor once more.

Then Jack finally said, "Sooner than I expected."

"Finally got a break in my homework, and I thought it'd be good to learn _something_ practical." Harry griped, rubbing his right hand a bit more defensively than seemed entirely necessary. The fresh scars, engraving the words '_I must not tell lies_' into the back of his right hand were still a bit raw, but while they were no longer bleeding, he was sure they would never fully heal either.

"Umbridge still a problem?" Jack chuckled.

"Yeah, don't suppose you can tell me when Monday afternoon became known as Monday morning?" Harry asked sceptically.

"That was Owen's doing." Jack dismissed, "So do you have your three things to think about?" he asked, turning efficiently back to the business at hand.

"Er, no. Just the two we talked about last time." Harry said with uncertainty. Jack was not a teacher, in the normal sense of the word, but Harry did wonder if maybe he just wouldn't agree to help him learn if he failed at any step of this training.

However, Jack just shrugged as if it really wasn't that important anyway, "Two out of three ain't bad." he said in a teasing tone. "Alright, then. Lesson two. The easiest way to teach you to block out a telepath is through practical lessons. I'd like your permission to try to read your mind."

Harry hesitated at that. From what Jack had said after the Triwizard Tournament, it seemed like this should be a big deal, but now he sounded like he was only asking out of formality. "Er, it won't hurt will it?"

"Oh no, not at all." Jack said simply, "At my most malevolent, I've been known to reveal a few intimate secrets, but I'm not strong enough to inflict pain telepathically."

Harry was wary of this, but eventually he decided he'd had worse this week. Rubbing his right hand again briefly, at the memory of his recent detentions, he nodded, "Alright then."

Jack stepped closer, and reached a hand up to touch the side of Harry's face. Harry flinched slightly, but didn't back away. "According to what I've read, the standard way for a wizard to read minds is through eye-contact, but I always learned it this way." he said softly, now reaching his other hand up to other side of Harry's face. Then a dark smirk crossed his face, "Don't think about elephants." he said, at almost exactly the same time as pressing harder on Harry's temples with the index and middle fingers of both hands.

Harry couldn't help it. Elephants positively leapt to the front of his mind. Elephants and nothing else.

Then he remembered he was supposed to think about Quidditch.

A big strategy-board filled the front of his mind, now, and he focused intently on the moves being drawn out on it. He had memorised all of them during the years he had played on the team, and for some reason Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson's voices merged as one in the back of his mind as he went over the diagrams.

After a few seconds he began to feel distracted. His right hand itched, and memories of his detentions filtered through to the front of his mind for a moment. The seething rage at the smug toad-faced woman who was making him write lines in his own blood.

_QUIDDITCH!_

Training with Ron in the rain, last week. Harry really wasn't as good a Chaser as he was a Seeker, but it didn't matter because it was still _fun_.

Before he could really focus on that, though, he found himself back in the room on the seventh floor. Jack had let go of him, and taken a step back. "Let me see your hand." he said in a dangerous tone that brooked no argument. Harry immediately complied.

Jack examined the scars there with evident revulsion, before dropping the hand and looking up at Harry with a strange expression that was neither pity nor disgust... it seemed almost like understanding.

"You didn't tell anyone about this?" he asked. It wasn't so much a question, as confirming an impression he had already got from Harry's mind. Harry shook his head, and Jack smiled weakly, "Don't worry about it. She'll get what's coming to her and then some. I promise."

Harry also smiled. There was no rational reason for it, but he somehow found himself completely believing those words.

x x x


	55. The Anti Umbridge League

x x x

**Chapter 55: The Anti-Umbridge League**

x x x

'_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_

_All student organizations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded._

_An organization, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students._

_Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge)._

_No student organization, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

_Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organization, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor._'

Cullen Montague pitched a fit.

Jack was laughing all the way up to the Great Hall that morning, "Oh my god, Jack, did you see the notice out there?" Gwen asked, running up to him, "How does she expect to keep people who happened to have more than one friend apart? It's just cruel, if you ask me!" Yeah, he could see that being a problem. "Tosh is already trying to appeal on behalf of the tech club. Not that she's going to call it that to that... _woman's_ face."

The rage and hesitation before the word 'woman' made it clear that it was dubious in Gwen's mind whether Dolores Umbridge was in fact human, or worthy of the title 'Evil Alien'.

He turned to her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders, in a comforting but direct gesture, "Someone should tell her that breakfast counts as a regular meeting of three or more students." he said simply.

That started her laughing, "Oh, I'm going to tell Owen that!" and she was off.

Jack proceeded to make his way over to the Hufflepuff table. "Hey, I see that threesomes have been banned within school grounds." he said irreverently, sitting down next to Ianto.

Ianto shot him a darkly bemused smile, "Yes, because that was ever going to be a problem."

"It is when she means it in the platonic sense." Jack muttered, stealing a piece of toast from the tray in front of him.

"She'll never break our team up." Ianto said idly, "And if she tries, I will personally see to it that she has a very close encounter with Janet."

"Oh, but she doesn't seem like a Weevil's type, does she?" Jack snorted, "You know we're going to need to arrange a relay system to keep Owen's evil master-plan going."

"I'm already working on it." Ianto said with a curt nod, "How does three weeks from now sound for phase two?"

"Which one's that, again?" Jack asked.

"UNIT impersonations."

"Sounds fun. We should try to get some of those little red hats." Jack teased.

"Beyond my power, I'm afraid." Ianto chuckled.

"Nothing is beyond your power, Ianto Jones."

"Hmm. I suppose I could tear down some of the curtains in the dormitories. Bit of transfiguration. House colours. What do you think?" Ianto was being sarcastic.

"You still have to wear red." Jack was not.

Ianto rolled his eyes and very pointedly returned his attention to his breakfast. He was trying not to laugh, and while Jack did love to push him, he was capable of recognising when he'd gone too far... and so he reluctantly left him to it.

x x x

It was now about the middle of October. The school term was well and truly underway, and time had just taken to flying in that horrible way that really makes homework an issue.

Draco wandered into the Slytherin common room with an armful of said unwanted homework. Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms... even Potions was getting to be a problem, and Snape actually _liked_ him! And that's not even counting Quidditch practices three times a week, Monday nights no matter the weather, as if Montague thought it was a religion, plus two other day at irregular intervals depending on who else was wasting their time hogging the pitch.

But just as he dumped the pile of books and papers on the table by the fireplace, he noticed something was off. He turned slowly around to see that two third-years were sitting on the only couch in the common room (all other seating being individual chairs). They were drawing sceptical stares from several Slytherins, but nobody seemed willing to comment on it yet.

It seemed that if you wanted something done in this house, you just had to do it yourself. Draco sighed and approached the couch upon which the offending parties were seated.

"Jack..." he asked sceptically, "Why is there a Hufflepuff in our common room?"

The Hufflepuff boy in question was sitting right next to Jack, reading a book that was held between the two of them. He didn't even deign to look up, but it was he who answered the question, "Because _she_ has allies in the library."

Jack, meanwhile, did look up at Draco, "We're just researching an extra-credit project." he answered in a fairly effective impression of innocence.

Draco wasn't buying it, though, and he peered over Jack's shoulder at the book- from the Slytherin House bookshelves, no less- that both third years were looking through, "You're reading about blood magic?"

"Just getting our facts straight." the Hufflepuff- Ianto Jones, if Draco remembered correctly- said, looking up now, with a much better illusion of naivete. Draco almost fell for it. Almost.

"About what, exactly?" he asked, glancing at the specific page they had been reading. "How to blood-bind someone to a contract?"

"Yes." Ianto said, nodding, before returning his attention to the book.

"What did you mean, 'she'?" Draco asked.

"Dolores Umbridge has been using blood quills for detention." Jack said, looking right at Draco and this time the honesty was genuine, "We're out for revenge."

Draco's eyes lit up at this thought, "Not blackmail?"

"No, she had her chance." Ianto said idly, "I offered her a compromise, she gave me a detention."

"With the blood quill?" Jack asked, and Ianto nodded slowly. That elicited a literal growl from Jack, which was just disturbing enough to make Draco back up half a step.

"She made me write, '_I must not blackmail Hogwarts faculty_'." Ianto explained dismissively, "Worth the extra words to allow me to blackmail others later."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, frowning slightly, moving to try to get a better view of the book, sure that the answers had to be in there somewhere.

"According to this, a blood quill is designed to magically bind its writer." Ianto said coldly, "It's typically used for signing contracts that already contain binding magic, but even on its own... if you write something often enough you can be forced to obey it." He sneered, and added in what was clearly a quote from the woman herself, "Once the message '_sinks in_'."

"I can't believe you tried to make a deal with her." Jack said, distractedly angry at what he had just heard. It didn't bother Ianto, and the anger was clearly aimed at Umbridge, but it still made Draco wary of the younger Slytherin.

"I'd rather not have more enemies. She left me no choice." Ianto said bluntly.

"How is he not in our house?" Draco asked, stunned.

"I've wondered that, myself." Jack said with a vague smirk. He was clearly still too angry to be truly cheerful, but he did an excellent impersonation of it.

"Consider him welcome, as long as he doesn't bring his own housemates as well." Draco said, laughing.

"They don't trust me, anyway." Ianto muttered.

Draco stared at him for a moment before muttering sarcastically, "I wonder why."

x x x

Harry and Jack had been meeting every weekend for their mental defence lessons.

Harry hadn't read the books on Occlumency, but Jack had, and he assured Harry that it was basically the hard way to do things. Some people could do it more easily than others, but the slightest glimpse of Harry's mind on their second lesson had made him absolutely certain that Harry was _not_ one of those people.

In fact, there were only a few people Jack had ever really known well enough to say that they could have completely cleared their minds as Occlumency demanded. Three of them were Time Agents, one was an alien that Jack was quite sure was genetically predisposed to that sort of ability... and the other one was in Hufflepuff.

Ironically, the best telepaths he knew had both been completely incapable of even blocking out their own internal babbling for as long as it took to attempt to read Jack's mind. Hearing fragments of the Master's thought-processes had been torture enough, even though the demented Time Lord had in fact failed to break through Jack's own mental shields.

On their fifth lesson, Jack tried a little harder than usual to break past the mundane mantra of Quidditch statistics. This week it was league tables of the popular British teams, oddly focused around the very worst team (Chudley Cannons) and what sounded like Ron Weasley's glowing opinion of said team.

What he found behind that was much more interesting.

A mumble of conversation, out of which he could only catch a few snippets of Hermione Granger's voice over the muffled background buzz of several other people's words, "-because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts-" "-we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters-" "I- I think everybody should write their name down-"

The image of a list was blurred, and Jack couldn't make out the names, but there was a strong sense of importance to it. Twenty-eight names that inspired a sense of both fear and pride in Harry.

Jack released the telepathic link, and gave him an odd look, "What was that?"

"You're not giving me time to react." Harry complained.

"You need to learn to react faster." Jack said gently, "I'm trying to give you the chance, but it needs to become instinct. And I don't really think the Quidditch is enough, to be honest."

Harry sulked a bit, but didn't argue.

"But what was that list?" He saw Harry's reluctance to answer, and decided that it couldn't hurt to flatter, "You know, I'm impressed you kept the names from me. It would be better if I hadn't seen it in the first place, but considering we've only been doing this for a month, that was still very good."

Harry gave him a wary look, "Are you trying to make me tell you what you want to hear, by telling me what I want to hear first?"

"Yes." Jack said bluntly.

Harry chuckled nervously, "I really shouldn't. It's..." but then he trailed off, thinking carefully.

"I just want to help." Jack said softly. Perfectly sincere.

After a moment, Harry shook his head, as if to dispel his reservations on the matter, "You're right. I shouldn't have let you be excluded, just because you're a Slytherin. Or your friends, because... well, they're your friends." He seemed incredibly uncomfortable with this admission. But then another thought must have occurred to him, "Hey... just how private is this room, anyway?"

"Magic-proof lock on the door." Jack offered with a shrug and a bemused smirk.

"I think you should join us." Harry said with a firm nod.

x x x

The entire Torchwood team made their individual ways up to the seventh floor room before anyone else.

Commlinks, an alliance with the Weasley twins, and their collective experience of hunting some frighteningly perceptive aliens over their time at Torchwood, made it almost too easy for them to slip up there unnoticed by anyone else.

The room had changed, once more. Even larger still than it had become when Jack had brought Harry here to study mental defences, every available wall was now lined with bookcases stuffed to bursting point with a vast array of titles on the subject of defence against the dark arts.

Some of the books were even on the Dark Arts themselves, interestingly labelled, '_Fighting Fire With Fire; Defensive Uses Of Dark Magic_', '_Learn The Dark Arts So You Can Stop Others From Using Them_', and '_1001 Terrible Curses And How To Make Them Backfire (Updated Version; 1981)_'.

There was a new section of open floor-space, all padded like a training area. Target-practice dummies lined up along one wall. And one set of shelves containing a wide range of useful-looking magical devices, instead of books.

"I really hope whatever transfigured this room didn't throw out the magical coffee maker." Ianto had muttered, before wandering over to examine the other enchanted artefacts.

"Look at all these books!" Tosh cried, before promptly grabbing the biggest one and starting to read.

"How did you find this place, Jack?" Gwen asked, amazed.

But before he could answer, the door opened again.

"Oi, I thought this was supposed to be a secure place!" Ron Weasley shouted.

"Nice to see you, too, Weasley." Jack said cheerfully.

None of the other four spoke, most likely for the reason that they had nothing positive to say, and this _was_ pretty much a diplomatic mission of peace.

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said this place changed." Harry said, following Ron into the room. Unlike Hermione, who followed him in and immediately made a beeline for the bookshelves, Harry was eyeing up the target dummies and padded training floor, "This is perfect!"

"Hey, wait a minute!" Ron yelled, "It's not perfect! There's a stinking Slytherin standing right there!"

"Within earshot." Jack added, not quite sure if he was trying to resist the urge to laugh or to punch Weasley in the face. Both were likely.

Hermione could be heard to sigh dramatically, and Jack glanced in her direction just in time to see her exchange a blatantly exasperated look with Tosh, and both rolled their eyes. Hermione then took a book and settled down right next to the younger Ravenclaw, to read. Or possibly more accurately, to bury her nose in the book so that her opinion was not called upon if Weasley sought backup.

It was Harry who spoke up in Jack's defence, "Look, Ron, they have just as much right to learn as anyone."

"But he's a-" Ron began, but Harry cut across him.

"I don't care what house he's in, Ron! He's still on our side!"

"How'd you figure?" a fifth-year Hufflepuff named Ernie Macmillan, asked. It was then that Jack noticed there were about two dozen more people here now. In fact, if Jack had to guess, everyone on that list was now present. And Ernie was at the front of the group.

"Might have something to do with the fact that I saved his life by kicking a Death Eater in the groin." Jack said bluntly.

Owen snorted with poorly suppressed laughter.

"I might not have been paying as much attention to detail as I should, at the time..." Harry said carefully, "But I'm quite sure it was your knee, Jack."

"I stand corrected." Jack said, smirking now. Everyone else in the room now was either laughing or trying very hard not to. Except Ron, who was just staring blankly, as incomprehension overtook anger in the war for his facial expressions.

"I... I don't get it." Ron mumbled, confused.

_THUMP_.

Hermione had loudly snapped her book closed, and now she stood up slowly, her own anger barely held back behind as expression of forced calm, "Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor. Barty Crouch Junior was a Hufflepuff. Rita Skeeter was a Ravenclaw." With each name took a step ominously closer to Ron, "I've lost count how many times you've said that 'not a witch or wizard went bad who wasn't in Slytherin', but that's clearly wrong. Some of the Ministry's top Aurors are former-Slytherins. In fact, from the evidence I could find, they're generally _less_ corrupt than the former-Gryffindors in the Aurors. Probably because they have a stigma to overthrow, thanks to narrow-minded people like you."

She was now standing right in front of him, managing to look down at him when she was half a foot shorter than him, and as close to screaming in his face as she could reach.

"If you can't accept the evidence that your theory might be flawed, Ron, then you'll have to accept the evidence that I'm never helping with your homework again."

Silence reigned for a couple of seconds, as her words sank in. Then slowly someone in the group began to applaud. It was the Ravenclaw Quidditch team's Seeker, Cho Chang. And the other Ravenclaws quickly followed Cho's lead, as did Cedric Diggory... and soon after that the rest of the Hufflepuffs present. Fred and George joined in, eagerly taking the side that was opposed to their little brother.

When Harry smiled grimly and clapped as well, even the remaining Gryffindors joined him. Hermione literally earned herself a standing ovation for knocking Ron down a peg, and she blushed furiously at the realisation that she suddenly had so much attention focused on her.

When the applause died down, Ron didn't speak. Either too embarrassed or too bewildered. It didn't matter. Harry stepped towards the two, and said in a carefully placating tone, "Ron, she's right. Please, just give them a chance."

Ron glared at Jack, more than at any of the others... but finally he conceded to the overwhelming force of peer pressure. "Fine." he sulked darkly.

"But to compromise, you need to sign the list." Hermione said, turning to face the five Torchwood students, "To promise that you won't tell anyone about this unless it's okay with the rest of us."

Harry gave Jack and Ianto a half-amused look, "Since some of us don't know how to cast the Fidelius Charm, we sort of have to take your word."

"Fidelius Charm?" whisperers rushed around the group of students, and Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"None of us _cast_ it." he said defensively, "We just know someone who did, that's all."

Harry didn't seem ashamed in the slightest for bringing it up, just shrugged and waited as Hermione rooted out the parchment list and offered it to Jack first.

"Magically binding, is it?" Jack asked in a teasing tone, taking out his favourite (and very much Muggle) pen and signing anyway, not waiting for an answer.

"No, doesn't force you to do anything." Hermione said. Jack thought he detected a little too much emphasise in the word 'force', and he was certain she spoke far too fast about something as insignificant as a harmless sign-up sheet.

"Just evidence of implication, then?" Tosh suggested as Jack handed the pen to Ianto. Ianto signed with minimal hesitation at Tosh's words, and passed it on. Once they were all added to the list, Hermione quickly took it back and turned to face everyone else.

"To business, then." she said promptly.

"You know, it's bizarre." one of the Weasley twins said, staring around the room in deep thought, "We once hid from Filch in here-" he nudged his twin, "Remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then."

"It was much smaller the last time I was in here, as well." Ianto added bluntly, with no explanation as to why he had been there, "But not _that_ small."

Harry nodded, "It seems to change... not sure how, or why, but it's exactly what we need for today."

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" Dean Thomas asked, having wandered over to the back of the room, where he was eyeing the shelves of magical devices.

"Dark detectors." Harry answered, "Basically they all show when dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much. They can be fooled."

He paused to stare into the Foe Glass there for a moment, then with what seemed to be an air of satisfaction at what he had seen- or more likely _not_ seen- there, he turned back to face the rest of the students present, "Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and-"

And Hermione had raised her hand as if they were in a classroom.

"Er... what, Hermione?" he asked, confused.

"I think we ought to elect a leader." she answered brightly.

"Harry's the leader." Neville Longbottom said, utterly baffled that there was any question about it.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly." Hermione explained, "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So, everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"

Everyone in the room raised their hands. Absolutely everyone. Well, except for Harry himself, who just looked kind of confused. Ron gave Jack a dark look for agreeing with the crowd and therefore disagreeing with Ron's theory that he was evil.

"Er- right, thanks." Harry continued, beginning to turn red from nervous embarrassment at the show of support he had just received. "And- what, Hermione?" For her hand was in the air once more.

"I also think we ought to have a name." she said just a little bit too chirpily for the way Harry and several of the other students were looking at her right now. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" Angelina Johnson offered hopefully.

"Or the Ministry Of Magic Are Morons Group?" a Weasley twin suggested.

"I was thinking-" Hermione said, with a pointed frown at the twin who had spoken, "-more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"Excalibur?" Jack suggested, trying not to laugh.

He was perfectly prepared to continue the line of thought, to the conclusion of the in-joke only his own team would get... had Owen not picked up on it himself and continued, "Blizzard!"

Gwen snorted with laughter and offered, "Bikini Cops!"

Tosh and Ianto rolled their eyed together, and exchanged an exasperated look. "You know, I should be offended." Ianto muttered, "But it's just too funny."

Once everyone was done giving them confused looks, Cho Chang finally spoke up quietly, "How about the Defence Association? The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"Yeah, the D.A.'s good." Ginny Weasley piped up, "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army, because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

In the midst of everyone else laughing, only the closely gathered Torchwood team heard- or could have understood the joke anyway- when Ianto perfectly mimicked John Hart's accent for two words, "Oh dear."

Once everyone else had started to settle down, Hermione announced clearly, "All in favour of the D.A.?" Almost everyone- including the Torchwood team, who in spite of their jokes did _not _ want any official names to be associated with one of their nemeses- raised their hands. "That's a majority. Motion passed!"

"Little miss officiator strikes again." Owen snickered, earning an idle smack upside the head from Gwen.

Hermione carefully wrote 'DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY' across the top of the list of names, and then pocketed it.

"Right." Harry said, finally taking control now that Hermione had had her fill of bureaucratic mania for the evening, "Shall we get practicing then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful-"

"Oh, please." Zacharias Smith interrupted, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him." Harry said simply. "It saved my life in June."

Utter silence. Everyone stared at Harry in amazement and awe, while Smith impersonated a dumbstruck goldfish.

"But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave."

Nobody moved.

"Okay." Harry said, trying very hard to gain some air of authority. His last words there certainly had gained their total respect, but he still looked terribly nervous. "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

Jack and Ianto naturally paired off together, as did Owen and Tosh, leaving poor Gwen to be paired with Neville Longbottom.

Time did seem to fly, as Harry called out instructions, and walked around the room correcting people's wand-movements and pronunciations of incantations.

Eventually, however, it had to end sometime.

Harry blew loudly on a whistle- where he got it from was a mystery- to get everyone's attention, and then announced, "Well, that was pretty good, but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" Dean Thomas shouted out, and several people expressed their agreement.

"The Quidditch season's about to start." Angelina Johnson pointed out, "We need team practices too!"

"I have a suggestion." Jack said, raising his hand. Everyone turned to look at him, some with distrust, but most with honest curiosity, "Slytherin's Quidditch practices are always on Mondays, at six PM."

The other students exchanged looks with each other for that- some of confusion, some of amused understanding- and the standard murmuring at any interesting announcement started up... until Harry spoke up, cutting them all off and taking control of the room once more. He was clearly one of the ones who understood what Jack was suggesting. "And none of them are likely to want to join us."

"Their collective IQ couldn't keep up with Umbridge's classes, let alone this. It never ceases to amaze me when certain individuals find their way to breakfast on time and fully clothed every morning." Jack said flatly, earning a few snickers from the other students- mostly Ravenclaws but also the Weasley twins. "But their collective mass will be occupying the Quidditch pitch, giving the other three teams regular and guaranteed free time."

Nobody could possibly have missed the eager gleam in Angelina's eyes at this suggestion. A supernova would have turned and stared.

"Alright, then." Harry agreed with a nod, "We'll all meet back here on Monday night."

x x x


	56. Blood And Stone

x x x

**Chapter 56: Blood And Stone**

x x x

That Saturday morning, the room had returned to the way it had appeared the last time Jack and Harry had practiced mental defences.

"Alright, now I really want to know how it did that." Jack declared, looking around the room itself with suspicion, "It's being too clever."

Harry laughed nervously, "Mr Weasley once said, 'Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain'."

Jack blinked once, then nodded, "Hmm. Sound advice."

He began to look around the room carefully. Harry watched him with a concerned frown, "Shouldn't we be practicing again?"

Jack grinned, and looked back at him, "What's the most annoyingly catchy song you know?"

Harry didn't even have to think, "'_Bananas in Pyjamas_'. It was on the telly all the time when I was a kid. Dudley loved it and I hated it. Could never get it out of my head."

Jack was still smirking in that very disconcerting way that really tells you he's up to no good, "Well try using that as a mental shield. Worked wonders when I got '_Barbie Girl_' stuck in my head for... well, almost a year."

While Harry stared at him in shock and confusion. He had never heard of any such song, but with the word 'Barbie' in the title, it just _had_ to be evil. Jack idly resumed his search of the room. Harry scowled, sat down in one of the chairs, and tried very hard to get the banana song out of his head. It would not go... and a slow smile crossed his face as he realised just how mad a song like that could probably drive a person like Voldemort.

Then quite suddenly, for the fourth time that he could clearly recall, he got a flash of something _else_ in his mind. He looked up, startled. It was malicious amusement. The kind at the expense of someone else, but Harry really couldn't think who he might feel like laugh at. It certainly wasn't Voldemort anymore. In fact, it was probably Voldemort who was laughing at someone.

He was too busy staring at the wall and trying to figure out what he had just felt to remember there was even anyone else in the room now, until Jack lightly touched his shoulder and made him jump.

"Something wrong?" Jack asked, frowning.

"No-" Harry started, but then he shook his head and sighed, "Yes. It's Voldemort again."

Jack quickly sat down next to him, meeting his eyes with a concerned look on his handsome face, "What did he do?"

"I dunno." Harry shook his head, "I think he's... laughing at someone." he added sheepishly.

Jack stared.

"What?"

"_You_ can read _him _ right now?" Jack asked in obvious shock.

Harry nodded slowly.

Jack sat back suddenly, "Whoa." then a slightly malicious grin, "_Right_ now?"

Harry shook his head, "It was only like a flash of emotion. Why?"

Jack just shook his head, "Nevermind. Are you alright?"

Harry nodded again, "I don't think he even knows I can do this. Sort of like accidentally tuning into his thoughts for just a second." He looked up at Jack, frowning in confusion, "I've no idea how it works. First time, he was really, _really _ angry. One time when I was in detention, he was really happy about something. Then a few weeks ago, it was impatience, like something important wasn't getting done fast enough. Now it's sort of malicious laughter... like someone is suffering and he thinks it's funny."

"He's thinking loudly." Jack said quite bluntly, "I don't think you're tuning in and out, Harry. I think you've got a permanent connection, it's just got the volume set too low."

"Again, the Slytherin comes out with Muggle-isms. I should really stop being so surprised." Harry deadpanned, trying very hard not to think of the possibility that what Jack had just said could be in any way accurate. Trying very hard to hide his outright horror behind the rather weak joke.

Jack just laughed, "Don't you see, this is a very good thing. As long as you don't think too loudly either, you could learn to spy on him." He shifted closer, almost eager, "Remember I told you I used to work for an evil organisation? They were experimenting with this, not long before I left. Remote telepathic espionage."

"I don't like the mad-scientist sound in your voice, Harkness." Harry said, backing away a little.

Jack laughed again, significantly more boisterously, "I won't do anything you don't want me to do, Harry." he promised, "But it would be incredibly useful if you could learn to focus on him without being recognised. Seriously, think about it. A spy in the enemy camp, and it's the brain of their leader himself!"

"That's it, I'm leaving." Harry said, standing up, "Let me know when you're done with your bout of evil genius, there."

"I'm sorry." Jack said quickly. He stood and caught Harry's hand, before moving quite deliberately to stand in his way, "Really I am. Let's forget it for now. Just... promise me you'll think about it." He became very solemn all of a sudden. "Either way we still have to keep up the practice to make sure he doesn't do exactly the same thing to you that I just suggested doing to him."

Harry stared for a few seconds, completely horrified at the very possibility. That in itself made him feel even worse at the idea of doing the same thing himself, even if it was to his nemesis. "R-right. But I really don't think it's a good idea to try to get into Voldemort's mind. For a start there's the whole moral issue you mentioned at the end of last year."

Jack blinked, then shrugged vaguely, "When it's kill or be killed, even the heroes tend to land on the offensive side... but it's still your choice." And then once more his tone changed drastically, from morbid and quite frankly ominous, to cheerful and even eager, "Now come on, let's try and figure out how this room works."

x x x

After some investigation, Harry pointed out that he had found the whistle he had used at the D.A. meeting, only after thinking he really needed one. Jack vaguely remembered also finding things he felt he needed, just lying around in this room, when he had been here with Ianto. Mentioning this as vaguely as possible, both boys decided to test the room.

By simply stepping outside the room and wishing for it, they managed to conjure up a library, a swimming pool, a replica of Florean Fortusceau's ice-cream shop (sadly lacking any edible produce), a collection of talking garden gnomes (which insulted both of their mothers, and told them to go jump off a cliff), a girl's bathroom, and finally an indoor Quidditch pitch.

Then they got bored and made the room go back to what they actually needed it for, to continue their practice.

That evening, when Jack took him to show off how the room worked, Ianto appeared considerably less impressed with the discovery, "Well I kind of figured that out when I made it conjure a coffee machine." he explained, "Listen." He took Jack's hands and turned to face him, "You don't even need to leave the room. Just make sure nobody is looking, and wish for what you want here."

Both of them closed their eyes, but then Ianto yelped and let go of Jack's hands. Jack opened his eyes, grinning far too smugly.

Ianto was now wearing nothing but his underwear.

"That is _not_ what I meant!" Ianto protested, somehow both laughing like mad and thoroughly embarrassed, at the same time.

"You said wish for what I wanted..." The indignantly hurt tone Jack used really was the verbal equivalent of puppy-eyes.

Ianto couldn't help but forgive him. "Well it's not like anyone else is going to walk in here... we did lock the door." He paused to consider that, "In fact, in theory, if we just wished not to be found, we wouldn't even need a lock... nobody we didn't want in here could even find the room."

"Good to know." Jack said, grinning. That would definitely be beneficial to the D.A.

Ianto pointedly put a hand up over Jack's eyes, and a moment later when he removed said hand, Jack was disappointed to see that Ianto's clothes had returned, precisely as they had been before. Ianto was grinning mischievously, "You know, we could do almost anything we want with this room."

"Except conjure food." Jack put in, "But what were you thinking?" he added hopefully.

"I need..." he closed his eyes, and Jack followed suit, "Slytherin robes."

When Jack opened his eyes, Ianto was wearing green and silver where previously his uniform had been trimmed in yellow and black. Jack laughed, but Ianto still had his eyes closed... was still concentrating.

"Gryffindor..." Jack blinked and the colour changed to red and gold. Literally that quickly. "Ravenclaw." It only happened when he blinked, he never _saw_ anything change, but now Ianto's robes were lined in blue and bronze. "Hufflepuff again." Blink. Back to yellow and black.

"Wow, that's impressive." Jack laughed, "Hold on, I want to try something. I'll call you on the commlink in a minute, then you ask for that book from the Slytherin common room."

It turned out that the room _did_ summon objects from other places in the castle. By which it actually removed them from their previous location, rather than simply conjuring a duplicate. After successfully testing that on three different things, including Professor Snape's desk in the potions lab, Jack returned to the room, and wished for a house elf.

Dobby appeared.

Jack wished Dobby would go away. Blink, and the elf was gone... they both laughed once more, this time at the mental image of the confused elf wondering what had just happened, "Oh, this is great!"

"Okay, I want to try the food again." Ianto closed his eyes, and a moment later a plate of sandwiches was sitting on the table. "So it works if you wish for food from the kitchens." After another moment of concentration, during which nothing happened, Ianto added, "But apparently not if you want anything from outside the castle. And I mean anything, I tried wishing for my clothes from before we were de-aged- which I know are at your flat- and got nothing."

"Anything in the school." Jack said thoughtfully, "I wish for the clothes Dolores Umbridge's is wearing, on that table over there." He pointed to the table, and added urgently, "But let her keep her underwear."

"Please god, let her keep her underwear." Ianto laughed. They both looked away from the table, and the clothes promptly appeared.

x x x

Dinner in the Great Hall had suddenly become a great deal more interesting.

"Holy fucking hell in a pink fluffy handbasket!" Owen yelled, half a second before the whole hall erupted into laughter and shrieks of horror, in almost equal measure.

McGonagall gasped in shock and staggered to her feet, backing up a few steps. Snape covered the side of his face nearest the stricken Defence teacher with one hand, so as not to have to look at her. Dumbledore blithely ignored the scene, and continued eating as if nothing was amiss.

Colin Creevey produced a camera and started taking pictures... for blackmail, hopefully. Or possible comedic value.

Ron yelled, "Agh, my eyes, my eyes!" while covering said eyes. Harry also covered his own eyes with both hands, while trying not to laugh.

The twins fell under the table laughing like loons. Gwen stared at the twins, in order to avoid looking at the staff table, "Well, if they didn't do it... notice anyone missing?"

Oh, Owen noticed. "Aw no, how did they do _that?_" he asked, eyes wide, "And why would they want to?"

"I think I'd prefer looking at a Basilisk!" Ron was whining, still rubbing his eyes. Finally, Professor Flitwick had the presence of mind to conjure something resembling a toga, to cover Umbridge.

"And to think." Owen said distantly, with a truly evil grin, "We've still got seven more months left to go."

x x x

Meanwhile, back on the seventh floor, Jack and Ianto were staring at the pile of nauseatingly pink clothes.

"I want scissors." Jack said simply, reaching idly behind him and finding a pair of scissors conveniently sitting on a table. He then began to cut up the clothes, leaving them wearable, but now more resembling fluffy pink rags than anything. Only barely covering what twenty-first century common decency tended to demand be covered in public.

Then he covered Ianto's eyes and wished the clothes back to their original wearer.

"How do we beat that, now?" Ianto asked blankly, "Didn't we want to make her mental breakdown gradual?"

Jack shrugged dismissively, clearly not caring.

"You're evil, sometimes." Ianto muttered, smirking slightly, "I love it."

Jack just grinned unashamedly... but there was something a bit false about the grin that made Ianto rather uncomfortable for a moment... until Jack abruptly changed the subject. "You know, this room is definitely special, but I think it's the whole castle really."

He began to lead Ianto out of the room, and down the stairs towards the entrance hall. He stopped at the top of the stairs down to the fifth floor, and took Ianto's hand, pointedly placing it on the handrail. Jack's own hand then rested right next to his, and he pointed down the stairs.

"Watch."

Ianto watched. He was sure something felt odd about the handrail... warmer than stone should reasonably be. Then he felt something _else_. A soft sort of humming in the back of his mind.

"We want to go that way." Jack said, pointing in a downwards direction that the stairs happened not to be pointing at right now. That _was_ the quickest way to the entrance hall, but Ianto had simply become so used to taking detours when the stairs were being awkward that he hadn't thought about it.

But now he did think about it, and very suddenly the stairs began to turn around, towards exactly where they wanted to go.

"You've been able to do this all along?" Ianto asked, stunned. And maybe a little bit betrayed. He'd been running around the long way to get to and from classes for the last two years, and Jack had known how to make shortcuts!

"Nope." Jack shook his head, now leading the way down the stairs again, "I think the castle has to be in a benevolent mood at the time- she's at her least cooperative when Peeves is around- but she does seem to listen when you ask, even if she doesn't feel like answering." Jack shrugged vaguely, "When she is in a helpful mood, she's liable to make a door to wherever you want to go appear right around the corner, or give you a feeling about whether you're headed in the right direction or not just by touching the wall." he then grinned malevolently, "On the other hand, making a mess wouldn't just annoy Filch, but you might find yourself walking in circles for the next hour or so as well."

Ianto chuckled for a moment, but then asked the inevitable question, "She?"

"It's very rude to think of anything sentient as 'it', in the English language." Jack said with a vague shrug, "And Hogwarts is definitely female."

"I don't think I even want to know how you figured that out." Ianto muttered, trying very hard not to think about it.

x x x

The next Monday, Harry- with some help from Ianto- explained the functionality of the room on the seventh floor to the entire D.A. at the beginning of the meeting.

They then went straight back into their work on the Expelliarmus spell.

It was surprisingly difficult for such a basic spell. Ianto and Gwen seemed to be the best at it, although Gwen's performance may have been due to her partner's weakness more than her own strength.

Jack grit his teeth and pretended not to hear Owen's snide remarks about Ianto taking his wand... and proceeded to think of the spell as a curse instead of a 'charm'. He had never been great at charms spells. Imagining the wand as a weapon instead of a tools always made it easier for him.

Weeks passed, and in spite of a serious morale problem for the Gryffindors, involving Quidditch, everyone in the D.A. got the hang of this and several other useful spells... including Stupify, Petrificus- which Tosh pointed out from a textbook worked just as well with one word as long as you _meant_ Petrificus Totalus- Depulso, Impedimenta, and Reducto.

By mid-November, they had begun working on shielding charms.

During that time, Jack and Harry's mental defence lessons continued, but neither of them brought up the idea of trying to read Voldemort's mind again. As far as Jack could tell Harry had completely dismissed the very possibility as entirely amoral, and Jack didn't want to make him uncomfortable by pushing the issue.

Nobody was ever actively accused of the incident with Umbridge's clothes, but she seemed to have decided to take it out on the entire school, becoming even more strict and overbearing as a result. No one would have thought it possible if they hadn't all witnessed it for themselves.

The rules she was conjuring up were becoming gradually more ludicrous, as every silly little thing any student did that even mildly irritated her was systematically banned.

Weasley products were outlawed (since when would that ever stop them?), dress code was enforced to such a degree that not tucking in your shirt could land you scrubbing bedpans with Filch for the evening, having your wand out anywhere outside of class and designated homework areas was punished equally harshly, even chewing gum was banned because the popping noise had begun to startle her.

The latest farce to be posted in the entrance hall one morning drew such a crowd, all packed so tightly together as they strained to read the notice, that its rule was immediately broken.

'_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS  
><em>_Boys and girls are no longer permitted to be within eight inches of each other.  
><em>_Ever.  
><em>_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor._'

"Eight inches?" Jack muttered under his breath sceptically. "Well that rule's useless."

"I'm sure some people would disagree with you, Jack." Ianto said in an offhand tone. "But if you'll note, it only refers to the distance boys have to stay away from girls..."

"Oh, well that's not so bad then." Jack laughed, throwing an arm around Ianto's waist and pulling him closer.

With a flash of white light, the notice changed.

'_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS  
><em>_No students are permitted to be within ten inches of each other.  
><em>_Ever.  
><em>_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor._'

"Aw, damn." Jack complained, laughing. But then he turned to Ianto and whispered, "Still not enough."

Ianto shoved him away, also laughing.

"Finally!" Theodore Nott cried out in a tone of indecent glee, "I might get a full night's sleep!"

Everyone turned to stare at the group of fifth-year Slytherin boys.

Blaise held up his hands defensively, shaking his head, and glared sideways at Crabbe and Goyle.

"I have to agree with Theo!" Draco said, before blinking in shock, "Wow... never thought I'd say that! It's only two steps away from agreeing with Harry Bloody Potter!"

"Still at least seventeen steps way from agreeing with Ronald Weasley, though." Jack offered helpfully, earning himself a bemused glare from Draco for it.

"Hem hem!" Umbridge's infuriating little cough drew the whole crowd's attention- and in most cases ire- immediately. "This unauthorised congregation will disperse immediately."

Once the crowd had reluctantly dissipated, the Torchwood team gathered together at the door to the entrance hall, watching as Umbridge walked away. She really did emanate an unholy air of smugness as she waddled along.

"That woman is a demon." Gwen muttered darkly under her breath, "I swear one of these days I'm gonna stab her with her own bloody blood quill." As she said this, she mimed the stabbing motion with an ordinary quill, for dramatic effect.

"P.M.S.-ing, are we?" Owen asked snidely.

Gwen seethed ominously for a moment, and snapped the quill in her hands, before sulking dramatically and grumbling, "God, I hate puberty."

"D'you know who she reminds me of?" Tosh asked, frowning after their Defence teacher.

"Margaret Blaine?" Jack suggested with a sneer.

Owen nodded ominously, "That woman farts, even once, even a tiny little squeaker... I'm calling UNIT."

x x x

It really was not hard to earn a personal detention with Dolores Umbridge.

What took the most effort for the team was when Tosh had to set up surveillance in the Defence teacher's office, so that they could monitor said detention. As soon as Tosh gave him the go-ahead, Jack proceeded to earn himself a detention that warranted the writing of '_I must not insult my elders_' with a blood quill.

In spite of the blood and the pain, Jack found it incredibly difficult not to laugh throughout the entire evening.

Nobody native to this planet counted as Jack Harkness' elder! In fact, he only knew one still-living person who qualified.

Besides, Ianto had assured him that the message would not 'sink in' from only a single session. Blood quills weren't designed to work that way, and it would take weeks for it to have any permanent effect.

The very next morning, Jack, Ianto, Tosh and Draco all met up in the library.

Tosh handed Draco a roll of parchment, and Draco unrolled it to reveal what appeared to be a still colour-image of the Professor Umbridge's office, frilly with lace and pink, and lined with decorative plates of fluffy kittens that even the most avid cat-lover would find insipid. The Professor herself sat primly at the desk, fingers steepled in a posture that looked disturbingly like a plump pink version of Mr Burns from the Simpsons.

Almost any Muggle would have expect her to smugly utter the word 'excellent' at any moment.

"The word '_play_' activates the recording." Tosh explained, and sure enough Umbridge did begin to move slightly when she said that. Just shifting impatiently. Her cat-plates began to caper and cavort as well. "'_Audio_' activates the sound." Mewling kittens, and a ticking clock began to sound from the parchment, "'_Silencio_' turns the sound off." And the sound stopped just as the door in the image opened and Jack entered the room. "Other commands are '_pause_', _'unpause_', _'fast-forward_', '_rewind_', and '_stop_'."

Draco seemed to understand all of that, nodding to show his approval. It was an interesting and convenient combination of Muggle and wizarding commands that just plain made sense. Even to the pure-blooded Malfoy heir. "And is this the only copy?" he asked.

Ianto snorted indignantly, "Of course not! What sort of amateurs do you think you're dealing with?"

Draco chuckled, "Of course." he returned his attention to the parchment, "Play."

He watched the silent image run for a few moments, "This is more than enough." He smirked, looking up at Tosh, "The Prophet would _kill_ for a reporter like you, girl. Especially since Skeeter left."

"She got fired." Jack said bluntly.

"No, officially she quit." Draco said, shrugging, "She didn't want the disgrace, and she stands by the articles she had to leave over. Especially the one about Dumbledore."

"_I knew it!_ I knew you were up to no-good, Harkness!"

Draco was on his feet in an instant, glaring threateningly at the intruder in their private conversation. Aggressive, but not drawing his wand. No magic allowed in the library... especially curse-fighting, and the threat thereof.

Jack sighed, boredly exasperated, "You're just everywhere, aren't you, Weasley?" he asked, turning around to look up at the Gryffindor who was attempting to loom over him.

"You're associating with Malfoy!" Ron spat.

Jack stared at him for half a second, before bluntly stating, "You know, you two have a lot in common. You use exactly the same tone of voice when you say Malfoy as he does when he says Mudblood."

"Hey!" Draco protested indignantly. Jack just smirked at the shade of red that Ron's face was turning.

"Look, we have our perfectly logical reasons for conspiring with Malfoy, here." Ianto said calmly, "Mostly the potential personal satisfaction of sending someone we _all_ hate- even you, Weasley- to Azkaban."

"What?" Ron asked blankly.

"Look, we can hate each other all we want, but that's just childish grudges." Jack said, now standing up next to Draco, "There are bigger enemies out there, and if you've been paying any attention to Owen's behaviour this year you'll be able to figure out now who we're plotting against. If you try to interfere then you're with _her_, and even Harry will resent you for _that_."

"Owen?" Ron asked, frowning, "What, Harper? You mean you're..." He looked from Jack to Draco, then to Ianto and Tosh, then back to Draco. He slowly backed down from his confrontational stance, turning back to Jack once more. "Azkaban? Seriously? What'd she do?"

"Something illegal. And we have proof." Draco said, smirking darkly and folding his arms in a pose of utterly smug satisfaction, "When my father hears about this... Azkaban if she's _lucky_."

Ron gaped at Draco, "I never thought you'd use that line for _good_, Malfoy." he said, gobsmacked.

Draco sneered at him, "Piss off, Weasley. Whatever truce Jack's trying to barter here, cessation of hostilities only lasts as long as we have a mutual enemy."

Ron scowled, "I don't like agreeing with things you say, Malfoy." He pointed a threatening finger at Draco, "You better stop it or else."

And with that he turned and stormed out of the library.

"That went better than expected." Ianto said blandly.

"He's finally starting to listen to logic." Tosh said, smiling faintly, "Ickle Ronnikins is growing up."

x x x


	57. To Have Loved And Lost

x x x

**Chapter 57: To Have Loved And Lost**

x x x

It was about a week before the start of the Christmas holidays. Friday afternoon, when nobody ever paid attention in class at the best of times, and the incredibly jumpy Professor Trelawney was just returning the essays they had handed in the previous week. It had been a kind of term project.

What was unusual, and therefore rather worrying, about this afternoon's class was the fact that Gwen and Owen had brought a suspiciously innocuous cardboard box with them.

"Dare I ask?" Ianto said edgily, eyeing the box with deepest distrust.

"It's our presentation." Gwen said, grinning, "To go with our essays. We're calling it '_Muggle Divination_'."

"Yeah, Gwen read through all the books on this subject, and we wrote essays on a few Muggle things that the wizarding world doesn't recognise as real divination." Owen explained, grinning, "Then I brought one in for show and tell."

"We even ran tests on them, over the month." Gwen added, "Well, I did mostly. Owen was otherwise occupied with a more noble cause. But I compared the readings from these to tea leaves and tarot cards, and then recorded what really happened during that month, proving that they were in fact just as accurate."

"Are you channelling Tosh right now?" Owen teased.

Gwen glowered at him, "No, I just had a lot of free time, and wanted to prove Muggles aren't as dumb as wizards seem to think."

"So what have you got in there, then?" Jack asked, grinning.

"One of _the_ most trusted Muggle methods of Divination." Owen said, tilting his head back slightly.

"Now, students." Trelawney called out, glancing down at the papers in her hand, "As the holiday season approaches, I believe Mr Harper and Miss Cooper have a nice little treat for us. A contraption which Muggles believe is effective in the art of Divination." The derision in her tone was quite clear.

All eyes were on Owen and Gwen, now. Owen opened the box and lifted out the object in question.

And Ianto's head hit the table in exasperation.

Jack stared in amazement at their sheer nerve. They had brought a Magic 8-Ball to Divination class!

As they climbed down the stairs, after an entire wasted afternoon of pointless questions being asked of the Magic 8-Ball, Owen and Gwen unrepentantly showed off their 'Outstanding' grades on their essays.

"So what'd you get?" Gwen asked.

"Exceeds Expectations." Ianto said vaguely, "Apparently predicting doom and gloom for her chosen _victim_ of the year works well. I just made up some vague reference to stars aligning and Jack suffering."

"Happens often enough." Jack said, irritably, "I got a D. Which apparently stands for 'Dreadful'."

Owen snorted with laughter, "What'd she give you that for?"

"I thought she liked predictions of doom." Jack complained, defensively, "So I told her the world was going to end on Friday the second of May, two thousand and eight, at precisely eight-oh-two AM... but nobody would notice."

"Probably got marked down for saying nobody would notice an apocalypse." Owen dismissed, "Seems a bit far-fetched to me."

Jack rolled his eyes and stalked off.

Ianto stared after him. "I really hate when he does that. Can never tell when he's joking."

x x x

'_Hogwarts; A History_' was a much less boring book than Ianto and Hermione made it sound.

Jack had recently 'borrowed' Ianto's copy of said book, and was now reading about an incident that had occurred a couple of decades after Salazar had left the school. He had needed to read backwards to find it, searching carefully for the sparse references to the Bloody Baron.

Finally, he learned the ghost's real name, and got back to the point where he had been a living man.

It had taken about a week. Admittedly only reading little bits at a time, in-between homework and plotting against their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Still, a week was a dramatic decline in the efficiency of research, and he made a note that he needed to improve. Hogwarts was making them lazy about the important things.

Now, he sat alone in the invisibility section of the library, reading a story that was reputedly written by Helga Hufflepuff herself, telling a tale of avarice, tragedy, and unrequited love.

It began by explaining that Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena, to whom Helga Hufflepuff was godmother, while certainly the fairest witch in the land, was unfortunately shallow and vapid. The girl was always loved by her parents, but she never did inherit the legendary Ravenclaw intellect.

Helena resented this, and so coveted a powerful magical artefact that her mother had crafted. A beautiful diadem, engraved with Rowena's personal motto, and said to imbue its wearer with greatest wisdom. For years she begged her mother to let her wear it, but was forbidden from even touching it until she finished her studies at Hogwarts.

Helena was impatient, however, and one day, less than a year before she would have been allowed to wear it anyway, she simply stole the diadem, and fled Hogwarts.

Rowena was devastated, and sought the aid of several brave wizard knights to search for her daughter. None knew where she had gone, and none found her. Years passed, and eventually she turned to a quiet young man, former apprentice to Salazar himself, who had long adored Helena from afar, but never had the courage to admit it.

Even though Helga noted here that his love was known to all but the object of his affections.

The Baron agreed, with some evident fear of a quest that had thwarted Godric's best knights, but with no hesitation.

The rest of the tale sank into conjecture and hearsay, with conflicting perspectives, as Helga had clearly asked both parties involved for their own side of the story.

Helena claimed to have been accosted in the forest by the Baron, and brashly interrogated as to the location of the diadem. The Baron's version of this event said he approached her with concern when he found her, and begged that she return to Hogwarts for the sake of her distraught mother.

Helena insisted he pulled a knife and threatened her. The Baron claimed that Helena was the one with the knife. Considering she had been living in the forest for some time, it was just as likely that she had a knife to help her gather food as it was for him to have brought one with him.

Either way, there was a struggle, as he tried to subdue her to return her to the castle.

Either way, the knife ended up in Helena's chest. The Grey Lady, patron ghost of Ravenclaw house and formerly known as Helena Ravenclaw, was named in death for her pallor caused by blood-loss, and conceals her mortal wound beneath elegant ghostly robes much unlike those in which she died.

Horrified by the death of the one he loved and yet more so by the fact that he had been at least partially responsible for it, unthinking of the rest of his mission, the Baron fell to his knees by her side and wept. In his grief, he used the knife, whomever its owner had truly been, to end his own life. Half his mission completed, as at least in death he was able to return Helena to Hogwarts castle.

The story ended with the oddly ominous note that nobody ever did find the diadem.

As he closed the book, Jack felt a chill in the air next to him, and was quite certain that the Baron was there now. He sat back in his chair, and waited for the ghost to speak.

"The less-educated would refer to it as 'unfinished business'." the Baron said, his tone holding much less of its usual intimidating authority. He sounded so very sad. "While it would not grant me peace, I would see my mission completed."

"What about Helena?" Jack asked quietly.

A derisive snort answered that question, "Even if she were to reciprocate my emotion, the dead do not feel, and I deserve no happiness for what I have done."

Jack frowned slightly. He had never denied himself anything he wanted just to punish himself... but he did understand the pain of watching someone you loved from afar, unable to ever be with them. He really felt for the ghost. "You want me to find the diadem? How?"

"Helena is unlikely to tell you, but it is possible that in death she may have found some remorse for her actions."

"You can't talk to her yourself." It wasn't a question.

"If she will not aid you, there is one other to whom I have spoken of this." the Baron continued, his voice cracking slightly as he tried very hard not to acknowledge Jack's words. "Another student of Slytherin house. However he is, I have heard, quite difficult to find these days."

"Who?" Jack asked, finally deigning to look up at the Baron.

"His name was Tom Riddle." the Baron said ominously, "I believe he is better known today as-"

But Jack spoke across him, with a tired sigh, as if he really should have expected something _this_ complicated, "Voldemort."

x x x

At the D.A. meeting, the following Monday, Tosh broke into Jack and Ianto's practicing of the Impedimenta jinx, catching Ianto by the arm before he could cast it on Jack for what would be the fourth time in a row, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Ianto asked innocently.

"You've been casting the spells without saying anything." Tosh said, as if it should have been perfectly clear what he had been doing.

"Oh, that." Ianto said, trying not to look too smug, "It's simple, really. It's all about intention and willpower."

"When he says it's simple..." Owen grumbled, nodding vaguely in Tosh's direction, "It might be to her." Jack decided that while Tosh and Ianto were talking he should practice on Owen... who really didn't know what hit him until it was too late.

"So, really, Ianto?" Jack asked, grinning smugly at the temporarily immobile Owen.

"Spells work just as well, whether you whisper or shout." Ianto explained, also smirking vaguely at Owen's misfortune. The spell didn't seem to be wearing off as fast as it usually did, either. "It's just a matter of what Jack keeps calling 'thinking loudly'."

"So you still need the words, just in your head?" Tosh asked, frowning in contemplation of this new technique.

"It's kind of like what you told us last month, about the Petrificus jinx." Ianto added, and Tosh grinned proudly at that memory.

"I think I get it." she said, nodding. At just that moment, Owen broke free of the jinx, and Tosh pointed her wand at him. Without a word, he was frozen again. "Yeah, I get it." she laughed.

"That's really impressive." Jack said, nodding.

"I've been trying to figure out the limitations on wandless magic, as well." Ianto admitted, "From what I've read, Animagism and Apparation don't require a wand, but I can't tell what's so special about them compared to any other spells."

"That's be pretty useful." Owen said, finally breaking free of the impediment jinx, "Someone thinks you're unarmed and defenceless... and then blam!"

"I've also been thinking." Ianto continued, looking to Tosh specifically, "That it might be in our best interests to try to figure out how to write spells. Not all of the spells I've read about are mutilated Latin, but I can't quite figure out the rules behind it for myself."

"Yeah." Owen put in, "I heard Creevey talking about a spell that makes you vomit live slugs."

"That's disgusting." Jack said, pulling a revolted face.

"This from Captain Anything-That-Moves." Owen snarked.

"There is a list of things I won't do, Owen." Jack said bluntly, "Our darling Professor Umbridge recently made top of the list."

Owen snickered at that, somehow managing to look suitable nauseated at the same time.

"But the list must be finite. The universe isn't." Tosh observed too innocently. Jack just shrugged.

"Oh, that he doesn't deny!" Owen crowed, laughing even more, "Look, the point is, that spell... the words are literally 'Eat Slugs'."

Ianto nodded, smirking faintly, "Draco mentioned that, too. Apparently Ron Weasley tried to cast it on him in their second year, and it backfired."

"So how does that work?" Tosh asked blankly, "Most spells are an abuse of a dead language, why not that one?"

"Newer, maybe?" Owen asked, "Latin wasn't always a dead language, was it? Hogwarts is a thousand years old and a lot of the basic spells are even older than that, right?"

Tosh positively beamed at Owen's unprovoked outburst of academic insight, "That might be it, but it still doesn't explain everything. I think I need to read up on this."

"Alright, that's enough for today." Harry called out, stopping the other students from casting their spell.

Gwen slouched over to the rest of the team, looking immensely relieved, "His curses are getting really strong, but his aim's terrible." she muttered, eyeing her partner, Neville Longbottom, as she said this.

"You're getting really good." Harry continued, to the room at large, "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff. Maybe even Patronuses."

"Isn't the plural 'Patroni'?" Tosh whispered curiously.

"Who cares?" Owen mumbled, "I think we officially dubbed the plural of apocalypse with just as poor grammar, remember?"

Gwen twitched and hit Owen on the shoulder, hard. "Shush." even though the other students had already started to file out of the room.

Jack looked over at the rest of the crowd, to see Harry busily pretending to tidy up after the lesson. He could always tell when it was pretending, especially after travelling with the Doctor... or even more telling, living in the same flat as Ianto for two summers.

Harry was really only picking up things, staring blankly at them for a moment, and then putting them right back where he'd got them. And shooting surreptitious glances at Cho Chang and her boyfriend Cedric, in-between. Jack never really understood shyness... sure, he could recognise it, and even knew exactly how to manipulate it or impersonate it, but he just didn't get it.

Just because she was with the other guy, why didn't Harry at least go over and say hello? Merry Christmas? All the confidence that being the teacher a moment ago had instilled in him had evaporated the second that his audience had somewhere better to be.

He waved off the rest of the team, who collectively shrugged and left right behind Cedric and Cho, Tosh beginning to chatter cheerfully about what she wanted to study over the holidays.

Jack waited for the door to swing closed, cutting off the conversation outside completely, and leaving him alone in the room with Harry. "Jealous?" he asked, smirking faintly.

Harry turned around with a start. He had apparently thought that he had been left alone, as even his own friends had gone on ahead without him. "What?"

"You were watching Cho." Jack said with a faint smile.

Harry sighed, clearly deciding not to argue this point. Most likely due to the fact that over the course of learning to defend his mind he had also learned that Jack could smell a lie a mile away even without telepathy. In reality, that seemed to be due more to Harry's ineptitude in the art of lying than any genuine talent on Jack's part, but the fact remained.

"She seems happy." Jack said thoughtfully. Harry looked up very sharply from what he had been pretending to organise, with a confused expression as if he couldn't decide if he should be angry at that statement or not. "Is that a good thing?"

Harry blinked, and seemed to quite suddenly understand that this was a very loaded question. It was with obvious reluctance that he sullenly admitted, "Yeah, I guess." He set down the book he had been holding a bit more sharply than was entirely necessary, and stalked a few steps away from Jack, before turning around and asking, "Is it really so bad that I wish Diggory wasn't around?"

Jack laughed weakly, "If it was me, I'd try to flirt with both of them."

Harry spluttered at that thought, "No way!" A brief pause as realisation hit him, "You're not kidding!" He shook his head, continuing to do so for noticeable longer than necessary before finally sitting down sharply on a nearby chair that hadn't been there earlier.

"There are other girls in the school, you know." Jack said, trying very hard to sound sympathetic.

"And I can't talk to them." Harry mumbled, "The only girls I can talk to are Hermione, Ginny and Luna... and they're all-" he stopped abruptly, not quite sure what they were beyond the fact that they clearly weren't girlfriend material for whatever reason.

"Y'know, girls aren't some strange alien species." Jack pointed out, "You shouldn't be afraid of them. Well, except for this one woman an old acquaintance of mine knew once. She tried to blow up a city to get revenge on him... but she was a special case."

"They giggle." Harry mumbled weakly, seeming not to have taken in the idle remark about blowing up cities. Or just plain not caring anymore, as Jack's stories always seemed to involve drastic situations like that for one reason or another.

Jack considered this for a moment, "You know, from what I can tell, teenage girls tend to giggle when they're excited about something, far more often than when they're mocking anyone."

Harry didn't respond to that, just stared sullenly at the ground.

Jack sighed, "Come on, talk to me, Harry." he said gently. Purely for the fact neither of them were paying attention to it, the chair had turned itself into a couch quite seamlessly, and Jack now sat down next to him. Harry had hit a growth spurt over the last few months, and was now almost half a foot taller than Jack when standing, so even sitting next to him he was no longer able to effectively generate the big-strong-protector vibe he liked to project. Still didn't stop him from trying.

"How do you do it?" Harry asked blankly, turning to look at him. "You just say the most outrageous things, as if there's nothing to be afraid of, talking about-" he stopped himself short, but it was clear he was thinking of Jack's most recent remark implying a threesome with Cho and Cedric.

Jack shrugged, "Well, I'm not completely oblivious. I know how to pick my audience. Wouldn't talk about it in front of a militantly homophobic mob with pitchforks, or anything. Well... I'd need a pretty good reason to, at least."

Harry snorted at that mental picture. He was honestly surprised by the possibility that Jack had heard of tact, having heard quite a few of the truly disturbing lines that he had come out with over the last few months.

"I just don't see the problem with saying what I feel, as long as nobody's going to try to kill me for it." Jack said dismissively, "And it doesn't interfere with my long-term plans."

Harry shook his head, "I've no idea how you do it." he muttered.

"You know, I'm pretty sure Lucy Rosier has a crush on you." Jack said bluntly, "And Demelza Robins, too."

"I'm not quite sure if you mean Demelza has a crush on me, or Rosier has a crush on Demelza." Harry deadpanned, "With you, it's hard to tell." Jack laughed, and Harry pulled an expression somewhere between a puzzled frown and a vaguely bemused smile. "And wasn't her father a Death Eater?"

"Yes, Evan Rosier was killed in the last war. She doesn't seem to take after him at all." Jack said with a vague shrug. "So who _do_ you fancy, then? Or is it just Cho?"

Harry frowned at his hands, which were determinedly fidgeting with his fingernails, for a moment, "Well, I... I dunno. I don't think I'd be that good, even if anyone did want to kiss me."

Jack hesitated for a second, not quite sure what he was meant to say to that. 'Sure you would' was the obvious platitude, but it was also most likely a complete lie. The truth that he was probably right but nobody's that great the first time would probably be met with either offence or indignance. Eventually he asked carefully, "Are you asking me for advice?"

He also took note of the fact that Harry had not said 'if a _girl_ did want to kiss me'. He had said anyone.

Harry snorted, "Seems a bit weird to ask someone who looks two years younger than me, but... well...?" In spite of not actually admitting it, that seemed to be a very clear 'yes'.

"There are some things you can only learn by doing, Harry." Jack said, laughing off the very idea that Harry would want to kiss him.

Just because anything that breathed usually did. And some interesting aliens that didn't seem to need to breathe, as well.

Then he noticed the entirely unbothered and mildly curious look Harry was giving him now. "What?"

"Well, you are a good teacher." Harry said bluntly.

"Thought you preferred the girls?"

Harry shrugged vaguely, "So?"

"See, if you could be this direct with someone you're really interested in, you'd have absolutely no problem." Jack pointed out, turning to face Harry more directly. "I'm also very impressed with your complete disregard for boundaries and labels."

"Think I've been spending too much time around you." Harry said, almost nervously, also turning to face him. It was quite clear that he trusted Jack, which was only to be expected after the time they had spent practicing mental defence. Letting someone try to read your mind in the first place required a degree of trust Jack wasn't sure he was capable of anymore. Harry had been just fine with it, with minimal persuasion.

"Clearly not enough, if you're still acting all shy and nervous around other people." Jack pointed out, shaking his head, "I'm not going to kiss you, Harry. But when someone does, just... trust your instincts, try not to drool, and I'm sure you'll do fine." He stood up and backed off a couple of steps to emphasise his refusal.

Harry frowned, "Why not?"

Jack had to think about that. He had backed off instinctively. Normally he wouldn't turn down an offer from a handsome young man like this, but Harry... he was still young, innocent, but more importantly Jack felt protective of him, and he hadn't quite realised it until now but that protectiveness was the same kind of emotion he had felt for his own children.

Nowhere near as strong, but that was definitely what it was.

In an attempt to deny this emotion to Harry himself, Jack shook his head and almost shouted, "You're only fifteen, and I'm older than Dumbledore!" The look of disgust that flashed across Harry's face said quite clearly that this admission did the trick perfectly. "You can't honestly look at me that way, can you?"

"Well... no." Harry said quietly, "I just..." he trailed off, and didn't finish that sentence, "Wait, you're really older than Dumbledore?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. Unless he's been lying about his age." Jack said, folding his arms and smirking faintly, "Wouldn't put it past him." He decided that now would be a really good time to change the subject. Then again, five minutes ago might have been better. So he quite randomly asked, "So where are you going for the holidays?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, before shrugging and saying, "It's a Secret. You?"

"Same." Jack laughed. After a moment, a thought occurred to him, "Hey, I got you a present. Christmas, and all. Just in case." He pulled out a commlink from his robes, and handed it to Harry, "It's a commlink. The Weasley twins, and Sirius Black have these, as well. If you need anything, just put it in your ear, tap the button and talk. At least one of the eight of us is sure to answer."

"Eight? So you and your fiends, as well, right?" Harry asked, taking the commlink and turning it over in his hands. He smiled wryly, "You trusted the _twins_ before me?"

Jack shrugged, "They're our kind of people. Think outside the box. Sirius is the same."

"What about Luna?" Harry asked, getting what Jack meant there, even if he himself was not so good at the outside-the-box thing.

"Luna doesn't even know where the box _is!_" Jack said a little bit too cheerfully, "But she's still cool, just not commlink cool."

Harry grinned, "Thanks."

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

x x x


	58. In The Lion's Den

x x x

**Chapter 58: In The Lion's Den**

x x x

"What is it with us and secrets?" Jack's past-self asked, the instant the Torchwood team stepped in the door, from the train. The other four only paid the least amount of attention, as it seemed to be Jack that was the subject of this question. They simply crossed the room and began to unpack their things for the holiday.

Jack gave his past-self a dubious look, and found a piece of parchment shoved in front of his face.

It read;

'_FOR THE EYES OF JACK HARKNESS ONLY._

_Dear Mr Harkness,_  
><em>You are cordially invited to spend any portion you may wish of the Christmas holidays at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London.<em>  
><em>We look forward to seeing you at your earliest convenience.<em>  
><em>Yours sincerely,<em>  
><em>Professor Albus Dumbledore.<em>'

"I'm assuming it's for you?" his past-self said, "It arrived this morning, delivered by something that looked very much like a Phoenix, if I'm up on my mythology. What did you do to deserve such an honour?" he added sarcastically.

Jack snorted, "Ah, long story. Probably involves telepathy."

"Right, I don't think I want to know." his past-self muttered, handing him the letter and retreating to the rather pathetic kitchen-like area of the room.

As Jack sat down, Tosh peered over his shoulder, and frowned. A moment later, she asked, "What does it say?"

"You can't read it?" Jack asked, looking up at her with very little real surprise. "Must be a safety precaution. Some kind of spell, for my eyes only, and I don't think I can repeat it anyway. Just get this _feeling_, when I look at it. Kind of like when we have to talk around my... well, me."

"Yeah." Tosh murmured, nodding slowly, "I know what you mean. It just feels _important_."

"Mmhm." Jack re-read the parchment carefully, "Well I've never heard of this place." He said vaguely, "But I guess I could hitch a lift with the dog-man." He heard Owen snort with laughter at that. "Quiet, you!" Jack shouted over at him. He could just guess Owen's thought-process there, and it skipped right past Sirius Black and went straight to John Hart's inappropriate remark about a poodle.

This suspicion was confirmed when Owen failed to shut up when ordered. "I wasn't there, I didn't even witness the incident, but it's still damned funny!"

"Ianto, when you learn that silencing spell, will you help me do the same?" Jack asked idly.

"Sure, no problem." Ianto said idly. He had already pulled out a book, and settled on the couch in a way that made it look like he had been sitting there reading all day, "So when are you going to go?"

"Well, it says at my earliest convenience." Jack said thoughtfully, glancing at the parchment yet again, "But it got here before we did, and we came straight from the train. I get the feeling this is Dumbledore's way of being politely urgent. I should probably go right away." He then looked back up at the rest of the team, "I'll see if I can get the rest of you invited, as well. Only fair, after all."

"It's either that or you come back here for Christmas day." Gwen insisted in a wheedling and hopeful tone.

Jack nodded in agreement with her. More to placate her than that he really cared about the holiday itself. Christmas was not a thing on his homeworld, at all... and while they did do it at the Agency, and of course nineteenth and twentieth century Earth, he'd never really felt it was all that important.

Just an excuse to give- and, it seemed more importantly to those involved, to receive- presents.

x x x

Ron Weasley was sitting in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place, pretending to read a homework assignment, while really he was worrying about his dad. Honestly, under what other circumstances would he willingly crack a book before Christmas, during the holidays?

Sure, they'd been up to St Mungo's and seen that his dad was alright. Well, considering he'd been bitten by a bloody great snake, anyway. Didn't stop Ron from worrying.

Just then, the front door creaked open loudly, and Sirius' mum's portrait started to shriek her usual obscenities about 'Mudbloods and blood-traitors'.

Ron peered out the kitchen door, to see Sirius and someone else standing out there. Sirius was right between Ron and that someone else, so he didn't get a clear look. Except that the someone was well shorter than Sirius, and they leaned over to the portrait and whispered something which promptly made it shut up.

"What'd you say to her?" Sirius asked, gobsmacked.

The someone else turned around and Ron finally got a look at who it was. It was Jack bloody Harkness. He waved dismissively, in a clear let's-not-talk-about-it-here gesture. Sirius just shrugged and led him right into the kitchen.

"I lied to her." Harkness said, giving Ron a rather pointed look, as if telling him to take careful note of those last words, before continuing, "I told her I was here on behalf of her niece Narcissa, to infiltrate this place and get you lot kicked out."

Sirius laughed.

Ron gaped. "You're bloody mental!" he yelped.

"Have you ever met my cousin 'Cissy?" Sirius asked, with a crooked and not entirely amused smile at Harkness.

"No. I've heard Draco talk about her, though, and Ianto's done a lot of research into the old bloodlines, so I knew the relation. Read the name on the portrait, and really, _really_ wanted to make her stop screaming." he explained with a shrug.

"Makes sense." Sirius nodded.

"No it bloody doesn't!" Ron protested, "And why's your boyfriend so keen on bloodlines, anyway, Harkness?"

Harkness opened his mouth to say something, but then hesitated and seemed to change tack in the middle of it. "He's from one of the oldest families there is." he said in a too-calm and measured a tone, instead of whatever he was _really thinking_. "It always helps to know what connections you have... to allies and enemies alike."

Sirius half-scowled, bemused, "Never thought of it that way, before."

Ron glowered, not liking this line of thought one little bit. All that blood-purity bullshit was rotten to the core. All of it.

A few moments passed in uneasy silence, and eventually Ron was unable to contain his curiosity, however much he might hate the other boy, "And what're you doing here, anyway?" he sniped.

Harkness smiled with all false innocence, "Dumbledore invited me."

"Yeah, right." Ron snorted.

"Well, seeing as Dumbledore is the Secret Keeper of this location." Sirius observed pointedly, "Sounds like about the _only_ way he'd be here, now doesn't it?"

Ron continued to glower. "Yeah, well _why_ is he here?"

Harkness shrugged irreverently, "Since when does Dumbledore tell anyone what he's up to?"

That made Ron stop to think. Damn it, he was right, and all. Dumbledore never did tell anyone anything unless he needed them to do something, and even then he only told them what they needed to do. If Dumbledore really had invited Harkness here, there must be a good reason for it... however much Ron still hated the bloke.

It was just like the whole Snape-being-in-the-Order thing. And what's more, _Harry_ trusted Harkness. That's way more than could be said for Snape... not that it made Ron feel any happier about it, mind you.

"Is Harry here?" Harkness asked, after Ron's silent contemplation and sulking had gone on for long enough to be uncomfortable.

"None of your business, Harkness." Ron snapped.

"He's upstairs." Sirius answered, "Been in his room since we got back from St Mungo's."

Harkness frowned, and Ron wanted to believe the concern that flashed across his face was all an act... but he wasn't quite sure. "St Mungo's? What happened?"

"Harry had a vision." Sirius began before Ron could tell Harkness to just piss off. "He saw Arthur Weasley being attacked by a snake. It really happened, but Arthur's doing okay now. We visited him yesterday." He shot a sidelong glace at Ron, before adding, "Thing is, Harry says he saw it _as_ the snake. I think he's pretty upset by it, actually."

"Wait a minute, why're we telling him this?" Ron yelled, "He could be working for You-Know-Who!"

"If I was working for Voldemort, I'd have taken pointers from Crouch, last year, and done a better bloody job of it by now already!" Harkness snapped, stepping past Sirius to face Ron directly, "Unlike some people, I don't need a dramatic show to make myself feel big about tricking someone, and that waste of a Dementor's breath didn't seem to realise that any old piece of junk could be turned into a Portkey. Hand Harry an innocent book, quill, scrap of parchment- hell, you could Portkey his underwear!-"

Sirius choked with suppressed laughter, but Ron barely noticed as Harkness just kept talking.

"-and he gets zapped to a cage in Voldemort's dungeons. I could do it, you know." He stood toe-to-toe with Ron now, trying to stare him down... and what was worse is he was doing a damned good job of being intimidating, too. Then he stepped back, "See, Weasley? I'm dangerous." he smiled showing a few too many teeth to be all friendly, "And I'm on your side."

Ron just gaped in shock. This kid could be downright scary when he tried.

"Y'know, this is why I like you, Jack." Sirius said, grinning, "If you were just a few years older..."

"EEWWWW!" Ron yelled, covering his ears in absolute horror.

But then the other two just laughed. They'd been messing with him? Yeah, had to have been.

But then Harkness turned serious again, just like that, "Now where's Harry?"

x x x

Harry really wasn't sure what to think of the vision. That's what they all called it. A vision. But it had been so very real. He had definitely _been_ the snake. Had _felt_ everything. Tasted the blood. Worse still, before he had woken up and been sick, he remembered _liking_ the taste... a sense of primal glee and satisfaction at the suffering it had caused.

He was terrified that he could hurt someone else, just the same. And enjoy it, too.

He had briefly thought of just leaving, but couldn't bring himself to move from where he sat, with his back to the metal bars of the bedstead. Everyone called it a vision, and whenever he thought of leaving his mind went back to Jack Harkness' oh-so-terrible suggestion that he try to get _into_ Voldemort's mind. What if he had done exactly that, by accident? It was just enough of a rational counter-argument to keep him here. For now.

Still, he didn't want to risk falling asleep again. He was deliberately making himself uncomfortable, because he didn't want to sleep again. He didn't dare.

He was startled out of his dark reverie by the thundering of footsteps coming up the stairs, and a familiar voice shouted from not far outside the door. "You stay away from him, you-"

It was Ron, and he was interrupted by an equally familiar but far less anticipated voice, casting a curse, "Petrificus!"

Only the D.A. seemed to know to use half the curse, everyone else either being old enough to do it wordlessly, or saying the full Petrificus Totalus.

And only one person in the D.A. could make Ron yell that venomously.

The curse was followed immediately by the distinct sound of something crashing down the stairs, and Harry got the sinking feeling that it was probably Ron. He looked up just as the door opened, to see Jack Harkness step deftly inside, shut the door behind him, and lock the door with a wave of a wand.

Jack turned to look at him, smirking faintly, "Let's see anyone prove underage magic. I've honestly no idea if it's just because my friends and I _aren't_ underage... or if it's because of the Fidelius Charm. They can't trace when we do it at my place, either."

Harry frowned sceptically, "Oh yeah?"

"Owen volunteered to test it." Jack said, smirking, "Something about not minding getting the juvenile-delinquent reputation twice. Nobody at the Ministry even seemed to notice. No warning, nothing. Which made Tosh _very_ happy. She's mass-enchanting Game Boys, for some reason. I blame the twins... and possibly Christmas."

Harry stared blankly. He was in no mood to laugh, though he was quite sure the idea of Game Boys in Hogwarts deserved some degree of amusement. Possibly even fear, if Fred and George really were involved. And he made a very deliberate choice _not_ to think too long on the subject of Owen Harper. That one was just as scary as Jack could be, but in a whole other way.

Instead, he just turned away and stared at the floor on the far side of the room, under the window.

"Sirius and Ron are worried about you." Jack said, turning from cheerful to concerned in an instant... and seeming not in the least bit uncomfortable with saying Ron's name, in spite of the way they usually snarled at each other. Harry would never think of using Malfoy's first name that casually.

He filed it away under Jack-being-way-too-self-confident-to-be-human, and promptly forgot about it.

"Is Ron okay?" Harry asked.

Jack glanced at the door, almost as if he wasn't quite sure for a moment, but then he shrugged, "I'm sure he's fine. Sirius was down there when I cursed him... and it's not like he was going to break his neck, with that spell on him, anyway."

Yes, they had both been there for Owen Harper's speech on the Petrificus Totalus charm, and its medicinal uses, at the D.A., during which he had explained the particular way it froze almost all moving parts of the body it was cast upon. Apparently healers used it a lot on broken bones- especially spinal injuries- that needed to be set if they couldn't be healed by conventional spells. It was also supposed to be almost as good as a shield as it was paralysis.

There were a few exceptions... Ron might have some bruises, and apparently bones not so insulated by muscles, were still vulnerable. The skull, perhaps?

Harry didn't comment on this, he was quite sure from Jack's flippant tone that it hadn't been that serious a fall.

"Look, Sirius told me about the vision." Jack said, sitting down on the bed next to Harry, who pulled his feet back out of the way, still not looking at him. "You know it was Voldemort, don't you?"

"How? I was a _snake!_" Harry snapped, finally looking up to see neither the fear nor the disgust that he had expected on Jack's face at this announcement. Only genuine concern.

"Maybe he's an Animagus?" Jack suggested, his lip twitching slightly, "I'd not be the least surprised if that was his form, would you?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He had already thought of that, but only in the context that he had somehow been possessed and turned into a snake-Animagus... not of just witnessing Voldemort as the snake.

It made more sense this way.

"I've got some sort of permanent connection. That's what you said, wasn't it?" Harry said quietly.

"And when you're asleep is when your mind is most vulnerable." Jack explained carefully, "What we really need to worry about is whether or not he _knows_ what you saw."

Harry frowned, "I... think he might." He looked up at Jack very slowly, and still hesitated before continuing, "After the snake attack, I was in Dumbledore's office, and when I looked at Dumbledore I felt like I was the snake again for a bit... and like I wanted to attack Dumbledore."

Jack stared at him, clearly shocked, "Well, it makes sense. Voldemort is not that well renowned for his love of Albus Dumbledore."

Harry snorted with weak laughter at that, shaking his head in amazement that Jack could be making jokes about something like this. But then he quickly shook his head and resumed staring at thin air, "What if he tries to possess me?"

"I thought you said before that he couldn't even touch you?" Harry could literally _hear_ the smirk in Jack's voice, there. The knowing tone that said he'd already figured this out, and was just waiting for Harry to follow to the same obvious conclusion.

And it was obvious. Slowly, he looked up once more, staring at the far wall but really not seeing it. "Love?"

"Seems to offend him." Jack said distantly, "I can see why."

Harry looked at him sharply, to see that he too was staring off into a distance far beyond the wall his eyes were directed at. "Why?" he asked quietly.

Jack snapped out of it quite quickly, turning to give Harry a wry smile that seemed to be trying to hide real pain, "Who would want to live forever, if they were capable of an emotion like that? A broken heart for all eternity... does that sound appealing to you?"

Harry bit his lip and looked away, this time to avoid the pain in Jack's eyes rather than to hide his own fears from the other boy. "So you think that would work?" he asked, "To keep Voldemort out of my mind?"

"It would work on me."

Harry really had not been prepared for that answer... but he nodded slowly anyway.

But then Jack shook his head and stood up, turning to face Harry directly and not showing a hint of the deep pain that had been in his voice a moment ago, "So are you going to come downstairs, or do I have to drag you?"

Harry rolled his eyes and almost managed a smile, "I'll go." he said, finally uncurling himself from the defensive and very uncomfortable position he had been sitting in. One arm had fallen asleep, but at least the rest of him hadn't done so.

x x x

"How many?" George asked, barely sparing a glance for his little brother skulking into the room with Sirius. Ron looked really miserable, and more than a little bit angry. "We've got orders for twenty-seven. We know, we weren't expecting so many, either. Well it's Christmas, we can't disappoint the kiddies, now can we? What if we paid extra per unit? Well, just do what you can, then. Yeah, that's cool."

"What are you up to?" Ron demanded.

George grinned up at his baby-brother, tapping off the commlink and turning over the notes he had been looking at so they weren't visible.

"Just business, Ronnikins." he said brightly.

"Game Boys." Harry said, as he joined them as well. Jack Harkness silently followed him into the room, for once not pretending he owned the place. "It's Muggle electronics." Harry explained to a confused Ron, "They've hired Tosh to enchant them to work at Hogwarts." He looked at George with a sort of blank expression, "Right?"

"Left." George said casually. Yeah, Harry was right, but George wasn't sure how he knew about it, and anyway that was an automatic answer to anybody asking him 'right?', at the best of times.

Very loud footsteps pounded down the stairs, and Fred zoomed in happily, "All done!" he cheered, sitting right next to George and grinning maniacally. George, of course, knew that his twin had been working on the advertisements and free samples that would be delivered _with_ the Game Boys in question. Not that either of them would be telling anyone else that.

Oh no. Not ever.

"You two... not in the same room... for more than five minutes?" Ron spluttered in shock. They were usually as good as joined at the hip.

"Christmas is a busy season, little bro." Fred announced brightly.

"Got to make the most of our resources." George chimed in in agreement.

"And manpower." Fred explained.

"Or womanpower." George added, turning to Fred, "She's up to sixteen."

"Excellent." Fred grinned.

It was at this moment that something freaky happened. At least, to the twins it seemed freaky, as it usually only happened when they had conveniently been ushered out of the way beforehand.

Dumbledore walked in.

"Ah, Mr Harkness. I am glad you could make it." he said brightly.

"Better be a good reason." Jack muttered, "I had plans, you know."

George did not think, from the way that was said, that Jack had had any plans whatsoever. He exchanged a look with Fred, and it was clear they both agreed on that point.

Dumbledore, for his part, seemed mostly unfazed by Jack's irreverence, instead turning to look at Harry. He met Harry's eyes directly, which seemed kinda important somehow, and when Harry stared back, looking very much like he was trying not to laugh, Dumbledore smiled and turned to Jack again, "I was right about you, Mr Harkness." he said, in a tone of pride that implied this was a very great compliment. "And you are, of course, welcome to come and go from this place whenever you wish."

With that confusing statement, he nodded to Harry and then turned and swept out of the room.

"Weird." Fred said bluntly.

"Double weird." George agreed.

Jack gave Harry a bemused look, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

Harry only gave one entirely uninformative word as an answer... thought it seemed they both found it very funny indeed, "Elephants."

Fred and George exchanged a Look. They would find out what was going on if it was the last thing they did.

x x x

Ron glowered across the table at Harkness.

The Slytherin had been allowed to stay at 12 Grimmauld Place for dinner, and has spent his time alternately trying to chat up Nymphadora Tonks, insisting that Mundungus Fletcher reminded him of somebody he knew in Scotland- to which Mundungus had returned a very rude hand-gesture and sulked- and even occasionally just eating quietly and behaving himself.

It was very unsettling to see the people you think of as bad-guys acting human... and Harkness had done his best to maintain the bad-guy image in spite of proving pretty damned conclusively that he was in fact on their side. The whole Portkey idea Harkness had come up with probably really could work, and it scared the living hell out of Ron.

He doubted anyone would do the underwear part, though... well, maybe Harkness, but not a real Death Eater. Right?

Thing is, though, Harkness had been right helpful since him and his friends joined the D.A.

All five of them had. Toshiko knew method better than Harry, and got to help out with teaching the whole wand movement deal. Owen- bloody prat that he was- knew way more than anyone rightly should about magical medicine. Gwen was gonna give them a class in Muggle defence after the holidays... fighting without a wand. Now that was lateral thinking, right there.

Right now, Harkness was reading a piece of paper intently. It was paper- Muggle paper- not parchment.

Ron couldn't take the curiosity any longer, "What is that?"

Harkness actually handed it across the table to him, "You tell me." he said, smirking as he did so.

Ron tried to read it. "There's whole chunks of this are blotted." he said coldly, looking up at the Slytherin.

"Hmm. Harry said they were blacked out in straight lines." Jack said, tilting his head to one side curiously, "Which is it?"

"It's all over the place. Ink blots." Ron insisted, which was perfectly true. There was a lot of writing there which he didn't get, going on about some Muggle organisation called Torchwood, and an employee by the same name as Jack, "Is this about you?"

Harkness hesitated, inhaling a sharp hiss that made it quite clear not only did he not want to talk about it, but it was complicated, too.

When he finally answered, "It's complicated."

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed, "Figures." he grumbled. He then tried once more to read it... much more carefully, knowing he was meant to be seeing something hidden.

'_Torchwood contract, Captain Jack Harkness._'

Ron peered up sceptically, and mouthed, 'Captain?' Harkness just shrugged. Ron shook his head, deciding the effort it would take to find out wouldn't be worth it, and went back to trying to read. Right below the name was a really blurred bit he couldn't make out, the first few words of the line. Then...

'_... Expendable resource. Human shield. Not worth defending._' Below that was blotted to hell and back, with snippets of words like '_high-risk situation_', '_dangerous artefact_', '_hostile forces_' and '_terrible flirt_'.

"Gee, they like this guy, huh?" Ron snorted sarcastically, "Is he your dad, or something?"

"Something." Harkness said dismissively.

"Uh huh." Ron eyed him sceptically.

"Can you read any of the blurred bits?" he asked, and Ron gave him a puzzled look.

"No." he said, as if it was bloody obvious. It should have been. "Why?"

"Keep trying."

Ron glowered at him, and then squinted at the blotted ink, trying to figure out what it was meant to be. It simply remained illegible.

Finally, he shook his head and threw the paper back at Harkness... not that throwing paper gets it very far, but he did his best. "Can't read it." he announced with finality, "Now what was the point of that?"

"Certain people trying to read similar documents have been reporting mind-splitting headaches." Harkness said carefully, "I wondered if it was everyone, or just... people who knew before."

"Before what?"

"Those words are hidden by the Fidelius charm."

Ron gaped, "Why?"

"I can't tell you why." Harkness said with a smirk, "I'm not its Secret Keeper. Do you think they ought to be told, or left to it?"

"Will it make them any less likely to throw this bloke in front of a train?" Ron asked bluntly. Harkness shook his head slowly. "Then why bother? They sound like a right bunch of wankers to me. Human shield..." he snorted, "Disgusting."

Harkness chuckled in what Ron was shocked to see was an amicable manner, rather than the standoffishness he'd aimed at Ron before. "I agree completely."

Ron really wasn't sure what to make of that... but he got the uneasy feeling that this truce had turned into something approaching friendship.

This did not mean he had to like it.

x x x


	59. Enemy Lines

x x x

**Chapter 59: Enemy Lines**

x x x

"So you and I-?"

"Future you. Not the same."

"But what exactly am I- or is he- to you?"

"Close enough to have warned me about all the rules of time travel, including not telling someone about their own future."

Ianto was almost amused by this line of questioning, which he had been subjected to only a few hours after Jack left for an apparently unnameable location. Jack's older-looking-past-self had decided to try asking about his future.

Tosh, Owen and Gwen had gone out. Owen insisting it was to find alcohol, while the girls just said it was to shop. Neither story was entirely plausible for all three of them, and Ianto was quite certain that they had unanimously decided to leave him alone with past-Jack as soon as the questions had started.

Cruel children.

Thus, Ianto and past-Jack were both sitting on the ratty old three-seater couch in the too-small apartment. Ianto had his back to one arm of the couch, probably nowhere near as defensive as he ought to be, but still with one knee up in front of him and his arms wrapped around that leg, acting a bit like a shield. Meanwhile past-Jack sat in the middle seat, casual as you please, as if this couldn't possibly make anyone feel uncomfortable.

It was almost funny. Almost.

"Aww, come on. We already know I'm going to forget somehow, anyway. Still can't decide if you're going to use Retcon or magic, but it IS safe to tell me, or I wouldn't be asking."

"I also know him well enough to know you're a smooth liar, and it's in my best interests not to take your word for it unless you're telling us how to defend against an evil alien trying to destroy the world." Ianto pointed out, with a smirk.

Past-Jack raised an amused eyebrow at this, before entirely changing tack, "You weren't kids for long before you showed up here, were you?"

"Huh?" Ianto asked, surprised and confused, "How'd you know that?"

Jack sat back a little, trying to figure out how to explain it, by the look on his face, "You know how you can't smell your own breath or body odour?"

"Y...es."

"Well, in my century you can add alluring pheromones to the list."

"Know about those... yes." Ianto nodded, still unsure how this was at all relevant.

"I didn't recognise him as me, but I knew instantly that he was from my time. I could smell the pheromones, and his scent was all over you as well." Ianto blushed at this, but Jack kept talking, "Didn't tell me a damned thing, for all I knew he could just have hugged you, would have been enough for what I noticed... but then there was that fascinating conversation over the summer, this year. So what am I to you?"

"You?" Ianto asked very carefully, "Aren't ready, yet. The man I fell for has a much more positive attitude to life."

"Fell for? So it's emotional, then?"

"Yes. You've been watching us for two and a half years, give or take. What else would you think it was?"

The pained look on Jack's face spoke of a strange, desperate kind of longing, "How long do I have to wait, for you?"

Ianto hesitated. He really didn't know what to make of the way Jack had asked that. Sounded almost like he'd asked that question before, for someone else. "Ah, we, uh- we met in two-thousand-seven. July."

Jack laughed, a kind of pained bark, "Oh, only a decade? Could be worse."

Ianto slowly lowered his leg, leaning forward a little, no longer defensive at all. Even if this man felt to him like a mere shadow of his Jack, it was still the same person. From what he'd heard, beaten down by Torchwood's old regime, and broken by a lost love. Probably more than one, knowing Jack. "I'm sorry." he said gently.

"I'm used to it." Jack said bitterly, "Nothing good ever lasts, and the few things I have to look forward to are so far away."

Ianto tilted his head to one side, frowning slightly, "You once told me; 'What's the fun in knowing the future? It's what takes you by surprise that always taste the sweetest.'"

And there was the trademark lecherous smirk on Jack's face, as he eyed Ianto up, "Oh, I'll bet."

Without warning, he lunged forward, catching Ianto by the back of the neck and pulling him into a deep and hungry kiss. Ianto moaned softly, reacting on instinct to return the kiss eagerly. It took several long and deliciously intoxicating seconds for him to become aware of the discrepancies that told him how wrong this really should be.

Jack was about a foot taller than him, and didn't hesitate to immediately begin to undress him, starting with his shirt. Ianto caught his hands and turned his head away from the kiss. With some difficulty, even- as an adult, Jack was much stronger than Ianto's teenage self, and had made no allowance for the possibility of a refusal.

Ianto surprised even himself when his protest was voiced as, "What if the others come back?" rather than just saying no. It only took him a few seconds to realise that mistake, and quickly he added, "And wait, I'm only thirteen, this- this is wrong."

Jack sat back a little, looking at the door with some suspicion, "Thirteen? Why is that a problem?"

Ianto just stared at him, a bit flushed from the kiss, and the raging teenage hormones that were currently telling him to jump Jack while he wasn't paying attention. "What century have you been living in, again?"

Jack just snorted, "The paranoid one that likes to restrict the most advanced individuals with laws that say we all have to progress at the pace of the slowest." he suddenly turned to look at Ianto, "Is an illusion of youth really so significant to you?"

Ianto scowled at this, sitting back and sulking just a bit, "Depends on how young you look."

Jack smiled wryly, "You know what I mean, although I appreciate the jab at my own real age."

"_You_ don't look underage."

"Arbitrary number, picked to accommodate the ridiculously high 'morals' of those in power. America is even worse."

"Why are you so insistent about this?" Ianto asked, sitting forward once more, "I don't even know _you_. I won't for another twelve years, by your time."

"Doesn't mean I can't like you now. Not to mention the entirely self-serving certainty that my future-self will thank me for at least making you think about it."

"Think about what?" Jack's voice- hardly sounding any different now than his adult self- asked from the door way. Thankfully, the rest of the team was still out, as Ianto was sure at least one of them- most likely Owen, knowing his luck- would have noticed his half-open shirt and rather flustered expression.

Jack certainly noticed.

"Now, I thought we had an arrangement." he said, leaning over the back of the couch, smirking, "If you wanted to play with my toys you should ask first."

"Toys?" Ianto asked sceptically. He didn't feel like arguing, just voicing mild indignance.

"Spur of the moment. And nothing came of it, anyway." past-Jack answered blithely.

"Much that you must wish otherwise." Jack said, glancing at Ianto, who managed to pull the impassive 'everything's just fine by me' expression onto his face, instead of just sitting there in shock. "You alright?"

Ianto jumped a little, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Impulse control. Not my strongest suit." Jack said bluntly, with a bit of a dismissive shrug, "What'd I do?"

"Just... gave me something to think about." Ianto answered, giving past-Jack a rather wary look, "Why, what else do you think he might have done?"

Jack didn't answer. Instead, he pulled a bag of something that smelled delicious up from behind the couch, "Hey, guess what? Mrs Weasley made us Christmas dinner. And I brought presents!"

x x x

It wasn't exactly unusual for Draco Malfoy to bring friends back to the Manor during the school holidays. In fact, if Draco was home and there wasn't at least one other child (or, these days, teenager) lurking around somewhere, Lucius tended to think that Draco was up to something. Usually something to Lucius' disadvantage, as the last time it had happened Draco had managed to learn where all the secret corridors in the Manor's dungeon level went... that had taken quite a lot of explaining on Lucius' part, so he tended to try to keep his son otherwise occupied whenever possible.

No, what was unusual here was that Lucius didn't know the boy. Or more to the point, the boy's father. All of Draco's other friends were the children of notable purebloods within the British wizarding community. This one was, at best, American (bloody Yanks)... or at worst, a liar and a Mudblood.

Lucius honestly couldn't tell, as the Ministry's records on the subject of foreign wizarding bloodlines was pathetic on a good day. On a bad day, downright purposefully unhelpful.

Oh, he had heard of Agatha Harkness, everyone in the wizarding world had, but sharing a name did not necessarily mean they were related. There were an awful lot of Muggles with the (usually respectable) surnames of Smith, or Jones, for example.

However, Lucius _had_ heard a great deal about this boy's exploits. It was difficult to miss, considering the fact that he had made the front page of the Daily Prophet not once, but three times, over the last year. Not to mention Draco's opinion of him in letters over said year, ranging from downright hateful, to grudging respect, and eventually even something much more affectionate.

It wasn't generally something one judged, within the wizarding elite, as long as you eventually ended up with a respectable wife and children to continue your bloodline... but Lucius honestly couldn't tell from the latter correspondence whether Draco was coming to love the younger boy as a brother, or as something else.

Either way, Lucius could neither prove nor disprove the boy's blood-status, so he would be polite until he could figure it out for himself. A simple sense of tact that, if Draco had taken it to heart at a younger age, might have saved them all a _lot_ of trouble ever since he first failed to befriend the Potter boy.

x x x

Jack Harkness now held new respect for Mickey Smith, having been forced to endure the train journey from Cardiff to London. It was something he had made a point not to do before, purely to feel superior to Rose's ex-boyfriend. Turned out, there had been other reasons not to try it.

Especially for a young teenager travelling alone, it seemed. Not that the group of thugs that had tried to accost him would _remember_ anything about it... and no illegal use of magic, either. He hadn't even waited for them to explain _why_ they had ominously surrounded him and one pulled a knife... he just reacted on instinct to defend himself, and then forced Retcon down their throats once they were unconscious.

This was just one of the many, many things he never told anyone- not even Ianto- because it would lead to far too many questions. Like just how _does_ an unarmed thirteen-year-old overpower four well-toned twenty-something blokes who were threatening him with a bladed weapon.

Draco had arranged to meet him at King's Cross, so that Jack could spend the last two days of the holidays at Malfoy Manor. They did have an ulterior motive, based mostly, it seemed, in Draco's cowardice when it came to confronting his father.

Now, as the carriage they had ridden in from the station rolled up to Draco's home, Jack watched out the window with a vague pretence at being impressed. The building was not as awe-inspiring as one might have expected from Draco's boasting, but then Jack figured that Buckingham Palace wasn't half as great as Draco had talked up Malfoy Manor.

Still, it did its best to look impressive, and it was probably only Jack's personal experience of bigger and better of anything you can get in the twenty-first century that kept him from really caring that much. You could show Jack Harkness every building or monument on Earth and he'd be able to tell you of a bigger, more elaborate, or just plain shinier version on another planet in his own time.

Whether he actually would tell you, or just nod and smile to save your feelings really would depend on how much he likes you, and how much of what he's ever told you is the truth. Like now, for example, when he stepped out of the carriage, he did a credible impersonation of a dumbstruck goldfish while staring at the manor house, just to make Draco feel better.

"Wow. Nice place." he said, in a passable tone of awe. He only just refrained from asking if they had cable, because that might have come off as a bit spiteful to the pureblood heir he was trying to be friends with.

"Come on, we're running late." Draco urged, guiding Jack towards the front doors, "Don't worry about your stuff, we have House Elves."

Draco ran up the front steps, and Jack followed, unsure whether he should be laughing, or worrying about who might end up going through his school trunk while it was out of his supervision.

At the top of the steps, he caught a glimpse of gardens off to one side, that had been concealed by a hedge before, "Let me guess... you have your own Quidditch pitch?" he joked.

"Professional specifications." Draco nodded, grinning brightly.

"I think I could get to like it here." Jack said with an equal, if not so honest, grin.

Draco pushed the front door open, and both of them hurried inside. As soon as the door closed behind them, a voice called out, "And just what sort of time do you think this is, Draco?"

To Jack's educated ear, it sounded joking... but in the way that a Time Agent jokes, where most people take it as a seriously threatening tone. He looked up to see a tall man with long blond hair standing at the top of a grand staircase. Lucius Malfoy was striking- handsome, if a bit older than Jack had expected to have a teenage son- and he had a bearing of unquestionable authority, poise and dignity.

"Sorry, Father." Draco said quickly, "There was a delay with Jack's train, and we-"

Draco's father simply held up his hand, and Draco immediately stopped talking. "It's late. Get ready for dinner, I'll see you there."

Once more, the man's voice seemed cold, strict and unyielding, but Jack was still certain he heard affection hidden behind the tone. The steely glint in the Lucius' eyes did waver for a moment as they lingered on his son. It might be hard to tell for most people, but to Jack it was plain as day that Lucius loved his son and was just trying to appear impressive for the sake of authority.

He wasn't quite sure Draco saw it, though, and that was rather disconcerting.

"Well, he seems friendly." Jack said cheerfully, earning a Look from Draco for a moment, before the other boy realised he was joking.

Half an hour later, after Draco had shown him to the guest room, and he had changed into clothes he thought looked vaguely respectable for the occasion- very wizardy, he made sure of that- Jack found his way down to the main hall of Malfoy Manor. It wasn't like Hogwarts. The corridors neither moved, nor felt in any way sentient. Therefore, he found it quite easy to navigate by memory alone.

He had a very specific reason to be here. Socialising, while not a real part of this reason, seemed like a fascinating exercise in itself. He got the feeling it would give him the chance to really brush up on his somewhat rusty diplomacy and subterfuge skills.

Draco led him in to dinner without a word. He assumed he would have been berated by his schoolmate, by now, if his attire had been unsuitable. In fact, Draco was dressed in a similar, if rather more elegant, style.

Contrary to what Jack had half-expected, they were dining in a small room, as opposed to the stereotypical vast hall with a table the full length, which, in cartoons, people had been known to require megaphones to talk to each other across.

No, this was actually quite cosy.

It was also the first time he saw Narcissa Malfoy. He knew her name already. Draco positively adored his mother, and while he usually preferred to boast about who his father could completely obliterate on a whim, he would sometimes talk fondly of her, with the evident sentiment that she was the kindest person he knew.

She was quite beautiful. Oddly defensive, as if she did not in any way enjoy sharing a room with other human beings, but in spite of the frown she wore, she was still stunning.

Lucius sat by her side, looking rather protective, it seemed. Easy to mistake for possessive, but the slight difference would be clear to anyone who went through basic human psychology training with the Time Agency.

Jack took his lead from Draco, sitting down at the table next to him and opposite his parents.

He really wasn't certain of precisely what level of formality was expected in the Malfoy home. Jack himself could be just as comfortable eating take-out as finger-food, as he would be attending a royal banquet. He had, in fact, met the Queen on several occasions (including one rather confusing Agency mission, in which he had thwarted an assassination attempt on an unrelated celebrity who had been attending William and Kate's wedding in 2011... and been left wondering why Her Royal Highness had greeted him fondly and called him Jack).

Still, he didn't know if wizards did things differently, and so he chose to follow Draco's lead rather than risk making a mistake.

"So, Jack." Lucius began a little bit too carefully, "How do you know Draco?"

Several responses flew through Jack's mind, including, 'I kicked his ass in a duel last year', 'he was my PR manager during the Triwizard Tournament', or 'he helped me find the Chamber of Secrets'. He very carefully kept a straight face, and answered far more vaguely, "We've done a few extra-curricular projects together."

"Such as?" Lucius asked in a probing tone.

"I told you in my last letter, Father." Draco answered for him, "About Professor Umbridge."

Lucius frowned, "I trust you understand, Draco." Lucius said coldly, "That Dolores Umbridge is a very influential woman, and it would not be in your interests to cross her."

Draco stared back determinedly, "She started it." he said flatly. Jack only just managed not to laugh.

Lucius seemed less resilient to that petulant expression on his own son's face, and chuckled quietly, "Oh dear, Draco, what have you done this time?"

"This time?" Jack asked, turning to gaze intently at Draco.

Draco glared at him, but Jack was unrepentant, and in the silence that followed he caved in rather quickly, "I might have been mauled by a Hippogriff." he muttered sulkily. "It was Hagrid's fault!" he added turning to aim this protest at his father.

Lucius rolled his eyes, "Do you know how much it cost me to politely silence the sixteen eye-witnesses who heard that half-breed oaf tell the class not to insult the creature, and then you called it stupid to its face?"

Draco cringed. Jack smirked faintly, but then decided to rescue Draco from this humiliation, "Mr Malfoy, it really isn't Draco's fault, this time. Professor Umbridge is using illegal dark magic as part of detention for Hogwarts students. Binding magic."

Narcissa flinched noticeably, "I don't believe this is appropriate dinner conversation, Lucius." she said sharply.

"Indeed not." Lucius said, staring at Jack carefully, "I will see you in my study, this evening."

Jack nodded obediently, and the conversation turned to more innocent things. Well... relatively speaking. Jack learned a great deal that evening, from quiet observation and polite seemingly-innocent prodding.

For example, that Lucius was intensely prejudiced against Muggle-born witches and wizards, that the man was almost certainly a Death Eater, and that he knew about something of such great importance and secrecy that the vague allusions to it made him snap almost viciously at his own son, whom Jack had already determined the man truly cared for in spite of these appearances.

x x x

After dinner, Jack and Draco went up to the first floor, where there was a games room of some exotically magical sort.

"What's wrong with your mother?" Jack asked, frowning. It had been on his mind all evening. She looked... like a victim. As both a Time Agent and a con-artist, he had learned to spot people who felt weak, who were easy targets. Narcissa behaved like one.

Draco gave him a sharp look, "None of your business." he snapped.

Jack just shrugged apologetically.

Draco stared at him, calculating, "There's something about you that inspires trust, and I don't like it." he said carefully, "It's like you're trying to _make_ me tell you, even though you're not really doing anything at all."

Jack smiled faintly, "I've heard that before. It's not deliberate, if that's any consolation. And you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

"You're doing it right now!" Draco laughed nervously, "You're too... too nice! that's what it is!"

"Well thank you." Jack smirked.

Draco shook his head, "Look, we need to persuade my father to turn against Umbridge... but he's already backed her up in the Prophet, look at this."

He thrust an old cutting from the Daily Prophet into Jack's hands. Two lines were outlined in sparkling green ink. A quote from Lucius Malfoy himself.

'I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation.'

'Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.'

Jack read it through carefully. Twice. Then slowly looked up to meet Draco's eyes. "You said this would be tricky."

"That's why you're here, evil genius." Draco retorted.

Jack chuckled, and looked back to the article, "So he doesn't like Dumbledore. Is there a club? Because I want to join. Especially if they have t-shirts." Draco snorted, but Jack just continued, "What if we make it look like it's not just Umbridge or Dumbledore? Present an alternative angle?"

Draco nodded slowly... then suddenly stopped, frowning, "How?"

This did make Jack hesitate. He didn't have anyone else in mind, either. "Well... he does talk about having the children's best interests at heart. Blood-quills are not in our best interests, are they?"

"What is it your Mudblood friends say when you state the obvious?" Draco asked, half-frowning half-smirking.

"'Well duh'." Jack said, bemused.

"That." Draco nodded.

"Go on, say it." Jack all-but purred, "You know you want to."

Draco stared at him sceptically, "It's not just the goody-goody act, is it? You're downright seductive, too."

"Say it." Jack wheedled.

"Well duh." Draco said in a deadpan tone that was only a few steps away from being as snarky as Ianto's.

"Now doesn't feel _good_ to abuse the English language like that?"

Draco laughed almost hysterically, "Yeah, it kinda does."

x x x

As soon as Jack stepped into Lucius' study, and closed the door behind him, Lucius asked coldly, "Illegal binding magic, you said?" He was standing behind an elegant darkwood desk, watching Jack with far to calculating an eye.

"Writing lines with a blood quill, for detention." Jack said bluntly.

He had come to the conclusion that if Lucius really did have his son's best interests at heart- and he was quite sure that that was the case- then all he had to do was present the evidence to imply that even a minor or unintentional infraction could put Draco in this situation.

"She's forced at least four students I'm aware of to do this, all for very minor offences. All I did was suggest that she looked like a deranged and bloated old toad. I believe she accused Harry Potter of telling lies in her class, though I couldn't say exactly what these lies were." More like wouldn't say, really. "Zacharias Smith said to her face that she couldn't teach real magic without her precious Professor Slinkhard's book rammed up her arse- his words, I'm sorry to say, not mine."

"That's three." Lucius observed, when Jack didn't continue. "You said four."

He really hadn't wanted to think about that. It still infuriated him that she would _dare_ to hurt _his_ Ianto. Felt so much worse than the fact that she had done exactly the same thing to Harry. He did care about Harry, almost like a son... but that failed to even scratch the fact that he felt so much more protective- and yes, even a bit possessive- of Ianto.

He did his best to keep his tone even as he answered, "My classmate, Ianto Jones, was accused of trying to blackmail her." He did his best to use a flippant tone, in a way to make the very idea of blackmailing a teacher sound completely outrageous. An effect that was probably completely ruined by the way he grit his teeth as he spoke.

Lucius certainly didn't fall for it, simply raised one sceptical eyebrow at this statement. Then he shook his head and asked, "And what do you expect me to do about it?" Jack opened his mouth to answer, but Lucius cut across him, "No, don't give me the innocent act. The truth, Harkness."

Jack was a bit taken aback by this. He had expected Lucius to play the same games he was used to, from both the Agency and from within Slytherin house. Not simply cut to the chase like this. But then he shrugged and produced the roll of parchment that Tosh had shown Draco a few weeks ago.

He unrolled it, laying it flat on the desk between himself and Lucius, and commanded it to play.

Lucius watched in silence, as the solid evidence of Dolores Umbridge's misdeeds played out before him. Not a word. He didn't even seem to move a muscle. Eventually Jack cut it off, and looked up at him.

"I've never seen anything like this." Lucius said, carefully picking up the parchment and examining it, "Far more complex than an enchanted photograph. How did you do it?"

"Not my area of expertise." Jack shrugged, "I just upset her enough to earn that detention, once I knew her office was under surveillance."

"Impressive." Lucius said, continuing to examine the parchment, this time with the kind of scrutiny that always gave Jack the impression that older and more experienced wizards could literally _see_ the magic in objects just by staring at them hard enough. After a moment he turned to Jack, "This evidence would certainly cause problems for her, and I believe it enough to act upon it." He set the parchment down and gave Jack a very serious look, "But I must tell you know, she has powerful friends. Fudge likes her rather more than is entirely natural, if you ask me. She will put up a fight, and as the enchantments are unfamiliar this can and most likely will be contested as forgery. It could take months for me to remove her from the school without more... direct influence."

"Define direct." Jack said smirking. He had a very good guess.

"Blackmail." Lucius said flatly, "It has served me well in the past. However, considering my own stance in her favour before this evening, even I would find it difficult to employ here."

"As long as she gets what's coming to her in the end." Jack said carefully, "It's worth the wait to see her properly punished. To the fullest extent of the law."

Lucius smirked darkly, "I would have thought you of all people would disapprove of Azkaban?"

"Heard about that, did you?" Jack muttered, one hand unconsciously moving to cover his mouth after he said it. When he realised this, he immediately pulled said hand back, and frowned slightly, "I wouldn't advocate the Kiss." he said darkly, "But some people don't deserve positive emotion."

Lucius chuckled at this, "You are a malevolent little beast, aren't you?" Jack feigned innocence, and Lucius laughed outright. "How does such a devious creature as you appear so innocent?"

"I've got a portrait in an attic somewhere."

x x x

Draco Malfoy was an excellent host, and Jack was never bored at all, during his stay at the Manor. Between an in-depth introduction to magical board games, gleefully malicious debates about which of their classmates they hated and why (Jack was surprised to find that Draco disliked Mark Avery almost as much as he did, if for entirely different reasons), and playing Quidditch in a back-yard the size of Central Park, the weekend ranked up there with some of the rare peaceful trips he had taken with the Doctor and Rose.

In spite of all this, however, he was still grateful to meet up with the rest of the team, on the train back to Hogwarts. Draco seemed somewhat less pleased with the prospect of spending the entire journey with Crabbe and Goyle.

It didn't take long for shouting from down the corridor to tell the Torchwood team that Draco had gotten bored, and wandered off to insult members of the Weasley family.

That definitely sounded like Ron... yelling about ferrets.

Well, so much for temporary truces. Even Dolores Umbridge wasn't a big enough mutual enemy for those two.

x x x


	60. Why Only Ianto Should Ever Name Things

x x x

**Chapter 60: Why Only Ianto Should Ever Name Things**

x x x

'_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS  
><em>_All Muggle gadgets are henceforth banned from school grounds.  
><em>_The High Inquisitor has the right to destroy any such contraband on sight.  
><em>_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor._'

Ravenclaw house, in its entirety, rallied around Tosh's tech club, to keep it hidden and protected within their tower. The defence of knowledge and learning was at the very heart and soul of Ravenclaw house, and they all stepped up to the challenge with pride and determination to rival any Gryffindor.

That now made two 'illegal' clubs that Torchwood was a part of. Not that this was anything new to them.

Unfortunately, as it seemed they had been the catalyst for this new rule, the Game Boys were the ones to really suffer. Colin Creevey had been in tears when Professor Umbridge destroyed his Game Boy in his hands... when he was just about to reach a new high-score in whatever game he had been playing at the time.

Naturally, it was the narrowly missed high-score that mattered far more to him than the burns on his hands, even though they were severe enough to send him to the hospital wing. Umbridge even had the nerve to dismiss his injury with a vague attempt to blame it on the Muggles.

It was in retaliation to this that the Weasley twins began to focus their creative attention less on profit... and more on vengeance.

x x x

Severus Snape was not happy.

Professor Dumbledore seemed to absolutely love pretending that everything was under control, when in reality the world as they knew it was rapidly spiralling out from under them. It might not be so bad, if Severus actually _knew_ what was going on. He had already been suspicious of Jack Harkness, from the start of the Triwizard Tournament.

It seemed since then, as if fate- and Dumbledore- were pushing Harkness and Potter together, for some inexplicable reason.

Harkness treated Harry like a younger brother, protective and genuinely caring. It was sickening to see one of his Slytherins acting that way. Although on the bright side that had only happened when they had been together at Grimmauld Place. At Hogwarts their public meetings had been formal and cold.

Harkness was a cunning enough creature to have kept his options open, and even established an allegiance with the Malfoys of all people. Lucius had mentioned him, seemed to think the boy would make an excellent Death Eater when he was older. It had taken all of Severus' self-control not to laugh. It was common enough knowledge amongst Hogwarts staff- with the notable exception of Umbridge- that the boy was intensely pro-Muggle... he just didn't display those tendencies to his classmates. Only to his close circle of friends.

"Mr Harkness." Severus called, at the end of that class' first potions lesson after the holidays, "I wish to speak to you." When Harper and Cooper loitered with Harkness, he added irritably, "Alone."

Cooper kicked Harper in the shins before he could talk back to that, and they politely retreated. Usually Severus would deduct points, on principle, but he had seen what Owen Harper was capable of doing to a teacher, and while he had no intention of interfering in what Dolores Umbridge had brought upon herself, he had also decided not to push that one over trivial misbehaviour, only serious infractions.

Harkness waited patiently, while Severus watched the door shut firmly behind the two Gryffindors. The boy stood in an odd posture, back straight, head held high, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind his back. It looked, Severus thought, uncomfortably akin to the way Muggle soldiers stood when they weren't being directly addressed. When they were waiting.

Severus wanted to test him, but there was something psychological, deliberately defiant, about his attitude. Daring Severus to just try it.

So naturally, he did.

He met Harkness' eyes directly, trying to determine what he was thinking. He found himself confronted with the strangest image. A perfectly realised illusion in the boy's mind, as if he was seeing that and not Severus' face. Green rolling hills, disturbingly colourful creatures capering and singing horribly. It was so detailed and so carefully constructed, even down to the unnatural image of a baby's face in the sun.

This was not Occlumency. Occlumency was a void of thought, this was a shield. A shield if such intense colour and nauseating cheer that it made him want to retreat from the attempt to read the boy... and Harkness was _grinning_ at his reaction to it.

"So this is what you have been teaching Potter, is it?" he asked, breaking the connection, turning his back on the boy, and shuddering in distaste at the memory of the image.

"Not exactly that thought." Harkness said with a smirk, "But the principle." His amused tone led Severus to believe that he thought he had gone easy on him. That he could conjure far worse mental pictures to defend his mind. Severus didn't doubt it for a moment. He was also certain, however, that he had seen the worst humanity had to offer, and he could break through this child's defences.

Prove that Dumbledore was mistaken in trusting the fate of their secrets and their world to this arrogant little boy.

He turned back to Harkness, drawing his wand and aiming it at the boy's face at the same time as meeting his eyes, "Legilimens."

Harkness flinched... and this time his defence was instinctive rather than oh so carefully planned. It took only a second for Severus to break and turn away. The memories had been clear as crystal. Intensely detailed, graphic. Far too real. Not only sight, but scent and touch and taste and... and it was _disgusting!_ How could a child possibly know such things?

"Whoops." Harkness laughed, "You only have yourself to blame for seeing that, Professor." However, even as he doubled over laughing, leaning on one of the potions desk to support himself, there was a dark glint in his eyes when he had the nerve to glance up. Severus read it clear as day even without Legilimency; '_Now how do I make him forget or ignore this one?_'

Well he wouldn't. "Is that so?" Severus asked coldly. The ominous tone killed Harkness' laughter immediately, though the boy continued to smirk unrepentantly. "And how, pray tell, does a thirteen-year-old come to have memories such as that?"

Harkness opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, thought about it for a moment, then finally spoke carefully, "Remember last time we talked in private, Professor?"

Oh yes, he remembered. Harkness had displayed some ability- whether innate or artificial- to cause attraction in others. Severus was self-aware enough to recognise it as compulsion of some kind, and he was quite sure that that was the only reason Harkness had even deigned to demonstrate the ability.

"You asked what I was. I said human." he said carefully, "Well, I wasn't lying... but there's more to it than that. In spite of appearances, I'm not a child. And that is all you're getting from me." The smug, almost animalistic grin Harkness was wearing now almost dared him to test that.

He now knew better than to accept one of this... creature's challenges. "You're a despicable animal." he snarled, "You shouldn't be allowed anywhere _near_ this school!"

Harkness tilted his head to one side, eyes wide in mock naivete, "And I suppose you're an angel." he sneered, "Only one of us has been reprimanded eight times over the last decade for abusing their authority, and reducing eleven-year-olds to tears."

Where had he heard about _that?_ Of course, it had been entirely verbal abuse, and every time immediately after a genuinely dangerous explosion caused by the impudent little brats' failure to pay attention to his instructions in class. Regardless, it was supposed to be _entirely_ off the record.

If Harkness could find out about it, then so could that meddling Umbridge woman! He'd be out on his ear before Trelawney!

The shock and horror must have shown on Severus' face, as Harkness now grinned victoriously. A moment of tense silence passed, and it became clear that they were evenly matched. This... conniving little incubus had done nothing to harm the children (though it seemed he was the ringleader of all Slytherin assaults on Dolores Umbridge's mental health) and Severus did value his job.

Mutual blackmail, then. And it seemed, in truly Slytherin fashion, mutual respect.

It was Harkness who broke the silence, asking almost casually, "I'm assuming you had a valid question when you held me back after class, Professor?"

"Yes." Severus said, recovering his composure as quickly as he was able, "How is Potter's training progressing?"

And suddenly Harkness looked like any other kid again. Normal, mostly unassuming. Smiling, but innocently so. Almost as if that hadn't just happened. "Now why would I tell you, Professor?" he asked politely, "I'm not the one in this room wearing the Dark Mark."

And with that he turned and jogged out of the classroom, not really fleeing, but the conversation was quite clearly over.

x x x

"So this is the Death Eater propaganda?" Jack asked, flicking through a leaflet written in sparkly green ink, on black parchment.

"Not the word I'd have used..." Avery grumbled, sulking nearby. It was the second week of term, and Jack had found these leaflets in Avery's schoolbag when they had been forced to work on a potions project together.

"It's disgusting." Ianto said bluntly, reading another copy of the same thing.

"Watch your mouth, Jones!" Avery snapped.

"But he's right." Jack said darkly, looking up at Avery, "I've seen less obsession with genealogy and blood purity in the Third Reich."

"The third what?" Avery asked blankly.

Avery was then promptly whacked over the head by a special double-sized Christmas issue of '_Transfiguration Today_'. "Read history, Mark?" the fair-haired girl holding the large magazine asked, "Or even... know how to read at all?"

"Everyone sleeps through history class, Jeanie." Avery whined, rubbing his head in pain.

Jeanie rolled her eyes and explained, "During the time that the dark wizard Grindelwald was in power, he had a deal going with a militant Muggle named Adolf Hitler." she spoke slowly, as if to a retarded two-year-old... or Crabbe and Goyle, "The Third Reich was Hitler's ruling power, and quite hell-bent on completely exterminating an entire race of people."

Ianto's calm expression faltered briefly at the word 'exterminating', but didn't say anything to it.

"So?" Avery asked, "That's history. Besides, the Death Eaters just want to rule over the Muggles properly, not wipe them out."

"As I recall..." Ianto put in, holding a copy of '_The Rise And Fall Of The Dark Arts_' up, to show the source of his information, "When What's-His-Name rose to power twenty-odd years ago, a lot of people did die in the non-magical world... killed for _sport_, apparently."

"What did you call him?" Avery asked, mouth agape with shock.

"What's-His-Name." Ianto said bluntly, "Much less respectful than anything anyone else seems to have come up with."

"Yes." Jack said, nodding, "'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', by the nature of the title, the suggestion that his name _must_ not be spoken. Infers some degree of power upon the name itself. I like Ianto's version better."

Jeanie smiled, a faintly amused but mostly terrified look. About half the house shared her sentiment, however the rest looked either downright fearful or- in the case of a small group that had gathered behind Avery- completely livid.

Jack's eyes travelled over the group of pissed off Slytherins. He didn't know all of them by name, but he did recognise Crabbe and Goyle as Draco's lackeys. Draco himself was sitting in an armchair, out of the line of fire, watching but not interfering. A few seventh years, including both Beaters from the Quidditch team, and about a dozen younger students, were also taking Avery's side.

"Are they really trying to gang up on us?" Ianto asked, sounding thoroughly unconcerned.

"Looks that way." Jack said, smirking at the group of wannabe Death Eaters, not a single girl among them. "You know, I heard a rumour somewhere." he lied. He had come up with this one himself, the first time he heard the phrase 'Death Eater'. "That back when Voldemort-" Oh, the gasps of shock and horror, it felt good to see the gang of thugs facing him cringe at a single word, "-was first rising to power, he used to be known as Death Incarnate. I imagine there's got to be some sort of initiation rite to become one of his minions..."

Everyone stared blankly, confused, for several seconds. Ianto had to bite his tongue not to laugh, when he got the joke about a second after Jack had said it. But almost five seconds after that it was Draco who choked with horrified laughter and broke the tension.

"You boys still want to kneel before him?" Jack asked with a laugh. An outbreak of murmuring and muttering ran through the common room, and Jack grabbed Ianto's arm, "Come on, let's get out of here." he whispered.

Both of them quickly fled the Slytherin common room, and kept running until they reached the Great Hall, where they promptly fell into fits of laughter. Thankfully, Professor Umbridge was nowhere to be seen.

"Something funny?" Fred or George Weasley asked, as the pair of them approached the two hysterical third years.

"Death Eaters!" Ianto gasped through his laughter, "Where the hell did you hear that rumour, anyway, Jack?"

"I didn't. I made it up. The name was practically _gagging_ for it!" Jack laughed, "Oh, the looks on their faces! Did you _see_ Yaxley? I think he was going to be sick!"

"What's the joke?" the other twin asked hopefully. They were drawing a bit of a crowd now. Tosh, Owen and Gwen had quickly come over to see what the fuss was about, and so had half of Gryffindor house.

"Death Eaters." Ianto repeated, still laughing.

Both twins turned their gazes to Jack, who snickered for a moment longer, before then finally deigning to explain, "I just suggested that a suitable name for the Dark Lord might be 'Death Incarnate'..."

Owen snorted, then after less than a second he gave up on trying to hold back, and simply crowed with laughter, "Good one, mate!" The twins weren't far behind him in getting the joke.

Confused mutterings ensued, but finally everyone seemed to get it, "Bloody hell, that's disgusting!" Ron Weasley could be heard yelling.

"That's what the rest of Slytherin thought, too." Jack announced, grinning, "Except Crabbe and Goyle." he added thoughtfully, "Either they didn't get the joke, or..." he let that thought trail off, and Owen, Ianto and the twins fell into fresh fits of laughter, while most everyone else looked utterly revolted.

x x x

Jack was given five more detentions with Filch that week, for not returning to the common room after curfew. Fear of retaliation seemed to be his primary motivation. Not that anyone knew where he _was_ going... nobody except Ianto, who was only slightly indignant at being magically summoned to the seventh floor after lights out, because Jack felt like cuddling.

Over two years had passed since they had been de-aged, and still Jack hadn't tried to do anything too indecent with Ianto. For the most part- kissing aside- their physical contact was of an odd sort that, depending on what you were thinking looking at it, could either be interpreted as honestly innocent, or Jack was really making one hell of an effort to behave himself. Even Ianto wasn't quite sure which one it was.

Jack had said that if Ianto wanted more, that was his choice and Jack wouldn't do anything to him until he asked. With the exception of abusing this room's magical powers to remove most of his clothes, that one time, Jack had kept to his word.

Even at the flat in Cardiff, however, they hadn't slept in the same bed until now. This new situation- he wasn't sure if he hoped Jack would make a habit of it or not- did make it somewhat more difficult for Ianto to reign in his own desire for more. Still, he knew perfectly well that while they both looked like children he would be disgusted with himself if he ever did act on it.

Finally, the seventh morning they woke up together like this, it was for Ianto to find Jack kissing his neck... and quite obviously aroused.

"What happened to waiting until I'm ready?" he asked in a forcibly casual tone, turning his head to peer over his shoulder at this de-aged version of his lover.

Jack did stop kissing him, and looked up with total false innocence, "I wasn't doing anything different."

Ianto looked down, in the direction of where he felt Jack's hard-on pressing against his thigh. Jack followed his gaze.

"I stand by my previous statement." he announced, unrepentant. "And blame puberty and wet dreams."

Ianto only just kept a straight face, barely avoided laughing, "And who were you dreaming about?"

"Well... you were there." Jack answered in a tone that quite strongly implied they had not been alone in said dream.

Ianto laughed, turning to bury his face in the pillow, "God, you're impossible!" he mumbled, before looking up, "You might want to ask the Room for a bathroom... before I wish for a bucket of iced water to tip up over your head."

Jack was almost laughing as well, "You, Ianto Jones, are a cruel, evil individual, and I love it." he announced, before kissing him lightly on the lips and slipping out of bed.

'_It._'

Ianto frowned at a door which had not been there before on a far wall, no doubt leading to the required bathroom. Jack strutted through that door, buck-naked and completely unashamed. He trusted the Room. Ianto didn't.

And while Ianto wasn't quite cruel enough to wish the door lead somewhere more public, the mental picture _was_ downright hilarious.

x x x

The D.A. had become a downright unpredictable beast. Ever since some of Jack's friends had made suggestions for lessons, it had turned from Harry being the only teacher to a collaborative effort of everyone learning from everyone else. Almost every student there had _something_ to contribute to defence as a whole. Harry was still in charge, they still looked to him, but it took a lot of the pressure off.

Now he walked in early to find a small group of Hufflepuffs already practicing something.

It took him a minute to figure it out. They were all levitating. Levicorpus was a very effective spell, but impossible to cast on oneself. It looked like each student had cast it on another, until they were all in the air.

"What's this, then?" Ron asked, wandering in right behind Harry.

"Trust exercise." Hannah Abbott called down. Justin Finch-Fletchley wavered in the air a little, as her concentration shifted to speaking instead of casting, but she didn't let him fall.

"How's that work, then?" Ron persisted.

"Well, I'd imagine it's a positive psychological bonding exercise." Hermione answered, sneaking up on Ron from behind, and causing him to jump just a little. "It takes a certain degree of trust in someone to just relax and allow them to suspend you six feet in the air like that. If you had a choice, would you let just anyone do it to you?"

"Do what?" Owen Harper asked, as that little clique of third-years, including Jack Harkness, arrived in the room.

"Levitate you." Hermione reiterated, pointing overhead, at the group of Hufflepuffs.

"Hell no." Owen said bluntly.

"You'd need to really trust them." Gwen agreed.

"Yeah, I guess so." Ron mumbled, looking up.

"The logistics of everyone maintaining concentration in a large group like that." Tosh said, awed, "It's really impressive... I think it would be something to see, with the entire D.A."

"Looks like fun." Jack said, drawing his wand from his sleeve, and pointing it at Ianto. Ianto only blinked once, and then held his hands out to the sides. A sign of consent. "Levicorpus."

"Didn't we do this before?" Gwen whispered a bit too loudly to Owen. He elbowed her gently to shut up.

Ianto looked down at Jack, "Ready?" he asked.

Harry only just saw Jack nod out of the corner of his eye... and then he made the mistake of blinking. Before he knew it, Jack was ten feet in the air, and he seemed not to have lost his concentration in the slightest because Ianto was still hovering five feet below him. "This could turn into a competition really easily." Jack said carefully, "But I don't want to risk you hurting yourself, if I drop you."

"Fine by me." Ianto said, letting him drop- literally fall- those five feet, before catching him at just the right level so they were eye-to-eye. The spell holding Ianto in the air didn't waver at all. "You're good at that."

"Oh dear god, that's all we need." Owen grumbled loudly, "Mutual levitation." There was something about his tone that sounded like he meant something else, but Harry didn't get it.

Gwen and Tosh did, and both hit Owen for it, Tosh hissing a bit too loudly in his ear. "That's just inappropriate, Owen."

Harry really didn't get it.

x x x


	61. Torchwood, Treason and Plot

x x x

**Chapter 61: Torchwood, Treason and Plot**

x x x

"Owen Bloody Harper!" Draco Malfoy's voice echoed through the entrance hall.

Everybody looked around to see the irate Slytherin fifth year storming across from the corridor that led down to the dungeons. Those in his path quickly scattered. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been standing together near the doors to the great hall, talking about the ten Death Eaters that the Daily Prophet announced had just escaped from Azkaban the previous night. Nobody else seemed able to talk about anything else.

Except Malfoy, apparently.

The younger Gryffindor that had been called out stopped on the stairs, staring blankly at the enraged Malfoy heir, "What d'you want?" he grumbled just loud enough to be heard over the deathly silence that had fallen at Malfoy's outburst.

"Where is he?" Malfoy shouted up at him, stalking up the stairs, holding up a crumpled piece of parchment in one hand. Harry caught a glimpse of Malfoy's face, and thought he looked more scared than angry, really... but he was certainly playing up the anger for all it was worth.

"Uh..." Owen hesitated for a second, eyeing the parchment almost covetously. Whatever had made Malfoy so angry was probably written on it, clear as day, and Owen didn't seem like he cared to face a yelling match when a bit of paper would suffice for the information required.

"Oh, shove the excuses, I know you're friends. Now where the hell is Harkness?" Malfoy snarled, reaching the same step as Owen, and doing a surprisingly effective job of looming over him. Malfoy usually wasn't very good at looking ominous, but fear seemed to make him that much more dangerous.

"Seventh floor. Not sure you want to go up there right now, though." Owen sniped a bit too cheerfully. Harry got a sinking feeling this meant the D.A. room, but he didn't dare speak up in case that wasn't so.

Malfoy did show just enough sense to hesitate, though. Owen Harper snidely saying you don't want to go where Jack Harkness is... even Harry knew by now that this usually meant entirely inappropriate things. "Library. All of you. Now." Malfoy snarled in Owen's face, before stalking off up the stairs.

Owen blinked, shrugged and then reached a hand up to his right ear, whispering quietly. Harry heard it in his ear, too. "Hey, Jack, are you decent? No, scratch that, 'decent' implies moral judgement... are you _presentable?_"

A long pause. "Now I am. What is it, Owen?"

"Malfoy. Warpath. Library. Looks like fun." Owen answered cheerfully.

"Sounds like fun." Jack answered, with a tone that said he was grinning as he spoke, "Gwen, Tosh, Ianto?"

Both girls answered affirmative. He didn't hear from Ianto.

"Library, then." Jack said brightly.

Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes. It wasn't necessarily any of his business, really. Besides, if it was important, Jack would tell him, right?

Yeah, right.

He turned sharply on his heel, and headed up to the Gryffindor dormitories to fetch the invisibility cloak.

x x x

Gwen skulked into the library, hauling her potions homework in her school bag like she thought it weighed a ton. In her mind it might as well. Owen being here might help with that, once Malfoy cooled off and went away.

"What is it?" she asked. It was just her, Owen and Malfoy. Jack, Tosh and Ianto were taking their sweet time about getting here.

"I hate the way you lot do that, you know." Malfoy said sharply, "And I'm not talking until Jack shows up."

Gwen slunk into a chair, and threw her textbook and parchment dramatically onto the table in front of her, beginning to try to figure out what she was supposed to be writing about this particular potion. Owen leaned over her shoulder and started to help her out. He may be a bit of a prick, but god, sometimes she just loved having him around.

Five minutes passed in really tense quiet. Malfoy kept shooting them odd looks, for the fact Gwen had known to be there. Had known something was up. Poor kid, really needed to be told about the commlinks sometime soon, but damned if she was going to be the one to do it.

Finally, Jack and Ianto arrived together. No tact whatsoever there, then.

"Finally!" Malfoy shouted, "What took you so bloody long?"

Jack and Ianto exchanged identical sceptical looks. Ianto shrugged and wandered over to where Gwen and Owen were sitting. Owen pulled a face which Gwen just caught over her shoulder. She couldn't help smirking slightly.

"You have to ask?" Jack asked, amused. But then all good cheer faded, and he turned serious again, "What's the problem, Draco?"

The door opened dramatically, and Tosh charged in, carrying an armful of Ancient Runes papers, "Sorry I'm late!" she called, skidding up to the table, and dropping her reams of parchment all over Gwen's homework, "I was a bit busy... translation research." she added, glancing significantly at Gwen, Owen and Ianto, as she adjusted her reading glasses a second before they would have fallen off.

Jack didn't look away from Malfoy for even an instant.

Malfoy gave Tosh the same suspicious look he had given Gwen, but then sighed rather dramatically, and handed over a crumpled piece of parchment to Jack. He looked suddenly defeated, now, rather than infuriated, "This is our fault." Malfoy said tiredly, "We have to help him."

A book skidded, all by itself, off of a table a few feet away.

Gwen and Tosh turned to look, but nobody else even blinked. There was nothing there, anyway.

Jack read over the parchment, a frown spreading across his face and deepening as he read. He then silently handed it to Tosh, before turning back to Malfoy with careful deliberation, "You're right. And we will." he said in a tone that meant serious business.

Malfoy's face shifted slowly from desperation, through shock at this easy acceptance, to a brilliant grin of relief. Which, in turn caused Jack to smile faintly, though the lines of worry stayed around his eyes. This told Gwen- more clearly than any words, spoken or written, ever could- that whatever he had just promised wasn't going to be easy.

She turned to try to read the parchment Tosh held.

Tosh, instead, read out the important parts, "Treason and sedition." she said softly, "Spreading malicious lies about respectable ministry officials. Three full pages of bureaucratic rubbish, accusing Lucius Malfoy of treachery against the Wizarding world."

"And not one word about the fact he's a Death Eater." Ianto added blandly.

Malfoy glowered.

"Oh come on, we all know he is." Jack said with a dismissive shrug, "But while your father is not on our side in the war... this battle against a mutual enemy is of more immediate importance." he gave Malfoy a very serious look, though his trademark grin did try to pull at the corner of his lips as he spoke, "And we don't leave a man behind."

Malfoy looked vaguely bemused, "You talk like you know real war, Harkness."

Jack just gave the mysterious, 'oh, don't you just wish I would tell you' grin, and then stepped past Malfoy and over to the rest of the team at the table. "Ideas, people?"

"She's too smart to out publicly." Owen said a bit sulkily, eyeing the letter in Tosh's hand sceptically, "But she's got to have left evidence."

"The Dementors?" Gwen asked hopefully.

"If there was ever any proof of that, it's long gone. Or they'll blame the dog, you saw the papers this morning, they blamed him for those ten Death Eaters escaping from Azkaban." Ianto said, with a frown, "He's the perfect scapegoat for any 'proof' of anything, really." he paused, shrugged and added flippantly, "Well, anything short of What's-His-Name putting in a personal appearance at the Ministry of Magic."

Owen scoffed, "Yeah, like that'd ever happen. Hey, you reckon he'd do autographs?" he added, grinning at Malfoy.

"What makes you think I would know?" Malfoy all-but squeaked. Terrified at the very concept.

Jack, on the other hand, laughed at the idea. "Just don't ever ask him to sign any body parts." he moved quite seamlessly to stand right behind Malfoy, and leaned on his shoulders lightly to all-but whisper in his ear, in a lower but still audible tone, "Especially your left arm, okay?"

"Aww, ruin my jokes, why don't you?" Owen griped, "I was going to say-"

"Silencio."

Everyone turned as one to stare at Ianto. He held his wand loosely, still aimed at Owen, and was smiling faintly. Owen hit the table with his fist, trying very hard to swear profusely, no doubt. His mouth moved as if he was yelling at the top of his voice, but no sound came out.

Still smiling rather smugly, Ianto quoted, "Sharp downward flick from the standard duelling stance, into a stabbing motion." demonstrating the movement as he said it, "Silencing spell."

Malfoy snorted, grinning almost madly, "Even Granger hasn't mastered that one, yet."

"Well she hasn't spent her entire school career working towards it." Gwen pointed out, trying very hard not to smile, but failing miserably in that effort.

"Draco..." Jack said idly. The smile was still on his lips, as Owen continued to try to swear at Ianto, but it no longer reached his eyes. And the tone of his voice was deadly, dark and dangerous like the chilling calm before a storm, "Two words you should never say around me, unless you _want_ me to hex you. Those words are '_freak_' and '_master_'."

Ianto very suddenly stopped smiling, waved his wand dismissively at Owen and muttered, "Finite." before putting his wand away and looking rather dour. As if something about what Jack had just said reminded him of something very bad.

Owen had the good grace not to actually shout in the library, once the spell was lifted... though he did flip off Ianto, while his back was turned.

And Malfoy had the good grace not to ask why those words were off limits. Even Gwen wouldn't dare, after the way Jack had said it.

"There has to be something we haven't thought of yet." Tosh offered, returning to the subject at hand, "Hard evidence we can use or acquire?"

"Harry Potter's hand!" Owen said loudly. They all looked at him, startled and confused by this... and Gwen would swear she heard a noise from the direction of that table the book had fallen off of earlier. "He's got these scars across his right hand, where he was using the blood quill, right? Well that's hard evidence right there."

"Yes, let's cut off Potter's hand and mail it to the Minister of Magic." Malfoy sniped with deep sarcasm. Then he blinked, and snorted with laughter, "It's things like that make people think I'm the next Death-Eater-in-training, isn't it?"

Jack rolled his eyes, grinning... and turning to look off to one side for only a moment. Seemed to Gwen that he was looking right at that now-officially-suspicious table, too. And was that a wink?

"I doubt you want to cooperate with Harry Potter?" Jack asked him.

Malfoy snorted derisively.

"Then how about my hand?" Jack asked, "She's had me writing '_I must not insult my elders_' a fair few times so far. I could just keep it up until the scars stay."

Owen opened his mouth... glanced at Ianto, then cringed and shut it without speaking.

Malfoy shook his head, "If Fudge was able to convince people that parchment was forged, I'm sure he can say you did it to yourself as part of the Great Dumbledore-Is-Plotting-Against-The-Ministry Conspiracy. Honestly, the Quibbler is starting to make more sense than the Prophet, the things he's got them saying these days."

Jack snorted, "And still you claim to be on their side."

"I did until this morning." Malfoy corrected darkly.

Jack gave him a careful, calculating look, and then smiled faintly, "Fair enough." He sighed, "If the legitimate channels won't work, then we need to make her break, and confess... and brilliant as Owen is, we might need some help with that." He turned on Malfoy sternly, "And you are _not_ allowed to protest."

Malfoy stared at him, almost fearfully. "Who?"

x x x

Draco sat beside Toshiko Sato, and opposite Fred and George Weasley, feeling incredibly vulnerable and uncomfortable. The rest of Jack's friends seemed to have other misdeeds to plot, but assured Draco that the twins were 'cool'. The way Jack said it had said that made it sound like he was talking about a shady dealer on Knockturn Alley who could sell you human kidneys, but might take yours if you looked them in the eyes.

Draco had met one of those... creepy to say the least.

So now he sat side by side with a Mudblood- and a pretty one, too, he had to admit- facing a business deal with a pair of Muggle-lovers... for the sake of his family's honour.

"Alright, Malfoy. Do you have any special preferences?" one of the twins asked, all business, and looking positively gleeful about the whole thing.

Draco gave Toshiko a wary look, then turned to the twins again, doing his best to act like he felt in charge, when if he was honest, his whole world had really been spiralled out of his control since the day he dared challenge- and befriend- Jack bloody Harkness.

"We need to make her confess to her crimes against humanity. And more importantly, against me." Draco said with great false confidence.

The twins grinned, "Personal, or family?" the second one asked.

"Family."

They exchanged a sly look, then grinned even more broadly, "Well, never let it be said we would refuse to help an upstanding member of the wizarding community like your daddy." the first one mocked.

"But for Umbridge, we're willing to make an exception." the second added cheerfully.

"Will it be humiliation, physical pain, total mutiny, or all of the above?" the first asked.

"All of the above." Draco said with a nod, "Assuming you two are up to it, of course. Harper has already set the bar pretty high, and we still don't know who cause the Underwear Incident."

"I think that was Jack." Toshiko said in a soft but cheerful tone.

"Why am I not surprised?" Draco asked, giving her a sideways look, and a faint smile.

"Alright, show him what we've got, Gred." the first twin said. Draco rolled his eyes at their pathetic abuse of their names, but said nothing to it. Instead watching as 'Gred' pulled out a briefcase, and opened it.

"We've got your classics here, dungbombs, Filibusters, etcetera." he explained, indicating miniaturised boxes of all the popular Zonko's products, "Now over here are our own merchandise, Skiving Snackboxes, for getting out of classes. A range of flavours, including puking pastels, nose-bleed nougat, and fainting fancies. It's designed as a four-pack, but our last product, _here_-"

He indicated a box with a warning label that said '**DANGER, EXPERIMENTAL PRODUCT, NOT SAFE FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION**'.

"-isn't quite perfected."

"This is where the physical pain comes in." the other twin put in brightly.

"Fever fudge. Does what it says, if you eat it your temperature will shoot right up."

"We just haven't sorted out the side effects yet."

"Boils in unpleasant places."

Draco cringed, "You have no idea how much I _don't_ want that mental picture. I'd be happy to feed them to her, though."

"If Owen were here, someone would have mentioned the Minister for Magic by now." Toshiko said softly. Draco choked, and the twins both doubled up laughing.

"Sick minds think alike, Toshy!" the first twin cheered.

"Yeah, even we didn't want to _say_ it." the second one put in, "Although, she does seem to have an unnatural interest in the man."

"Very unnatural." the first twin agreed.

Draco shook his head, "I'll pay for the whole school to have puking pastels on a timer for about five minutes into every class. Do that for a week, then switch to the nose-bleeds. Get Harper to organise it, and aim for the textbooks."

"We like your style." the first twin said, while his brother made a note on a piece of parchment, nodding efficiently. Draco was reluctantly beginning to respect their business sense. And their sense of humour. Not that he would admit it for any reason short of his life depending on it, of course.

"We'll find a way to feed her the fever fudge." the first twin added, "On the house with a purchase that size."

"If you can feed her Veritaserum, as well..." Draco asked hopefully.

The twins exchanged dubious looks, then both shook their heads, "Beyond us, I'm afraid." the first one said, sounding honestly apologetic.

"I'll ask Owen." Toshiko suggested, "He _is_ the only Gryffindor in the school that Snape doesn't insult in class."

"He doesn't dare." Draco sniped, "You've seen Harper at work, would you in Snape's place?"

The twins shook their heads emphatically, eyes wide in terror at the mere thought.

"I meant even before this." Toshiko explained.

"And failing that, I can ask Snape myself." Draco added.

"Bet it pays to be teacher's pet." the second twin sniped in an almost playfully insulting tone, instead of the genuine bitterness he would have expected.

Draco frowned, but didn't comment on this. He didn't _want_ to make friends with these two, however civilised they were being at the moment.

"So that's a school-full of puking pastels and nose-bleed nougat." the second twin said, checking his list, "And a nice plate of- god, I can't even say it now, thanks, Tosh."

"Fever fudge for the High Inquisitor." Toshiko said, trying very hard not to smirk.

"Who has Fudge fever." the first twin added, causing all three of them to laugh, while Draco just stared with incredulous disgust.

Once they calmed down, Draco added, "And most importantly- and this is Jack's idea but it's you two who'll have to coordinate it with Harper- is that nobody is to accept any detentions from her. Even if she can influence the Ministry, or overrule the Headmaster, she can't make them expel the whole school."

x x x

And so it began.

Soon nobody had a useable copy of '_Defensive Magical Theory_' by Wilbert Slinkhard. Projectile vomiting had seen to that.

On top of that, all the students had started shouting at Umbridge, and it took Muggle-born students to explain the joke to their pureblooded friends, that it was a spoof on a Muggle interpretation of excessive discipline.

"_YES SIR PROFESSOR UMBRIDGE SIR!_" or "_NO SIR PROFESSOR UMBRIDGE SIR!_" at the tops of their lungs had become everybody's answer to anything the woman said to them, whether addressed directly or to a classroom. She soon stopped speaking to the students.

Detentions were handed out left right and centre. Students took deliberate care to break as many of the more ridiculous 'Educational Decrees' as they could... and while everybody showed up promptly if they were told to go to their own head of house teacher, Madam Pomfrey, or even Filch for their detentions, nobody attended the mass-detentions Umbridge attempted to host herself.

Not one student.

Quidditch was cancelled as punishment, but not even the Slytherins- who had been in the lead of the league table so far this year- complained about it. Oh, some swore to do terrible things to the woman with a broomstick (or in Warrington's case a Bludger, a dozen budgerigars, and Mrs Norris), but they still all saw it as a casualty of war, and it was a war they were winning.

Meanwhile, in a girls' bathroom on the second floor, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, and Hermione Granger worked diligently to create a potion that was officially meant to be beyond even N.E.W.T.-level potions students. Something you were supposed to go on to study as an apprentice to a true Potions Master.

Veritaserum.

Technically, Jack had volunteered to help, but had been kicked out when Myrtle became too distracting for the others to work. Myrtle had subsequently told Jack the password to the Prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor, and neither one had been seen since.

"Shame it takes a month." Owen grumbled, "I mean, we can mix it in one day, but then it's gotta sit somewhere and 'mature'." he sneered, "Bloody magic. I tell you, if we just got Jack to 'fess up to where he hides the sodium pentothal I _know_ he stole from the Hub, we'd be all set."

"How do you know it was Jack?" Tosh asked, frowning at this rather unsettling thought.

"It was either him or tea-boy." Owen said bluntly.

Hermione just stared at Owen, "Sodium pentothal? You're kidding, right?"

"Sorry." Tosh said with very little remorse, "He's not."

"Why, exactly is it-" Owen said, turning to point the spoon- which he had been using to measure powdered pixie wings into the potion- at her rather sharply, "-that everyone just assumed the Muggle way is more barbaric, hmm? You don't bat an eye at using a Ministry-regulated, and therefore illegal- potion on a teacher, but I talk about intravenous barbiturates as chemical coercion, and suddenly you're horrified."

"Well, it is harder to spike her drink with an I.V., Owen." Tosh pointed out, but Owen waved at her dismissively.

"Not my point." he insisted, still staring Hermione down.

"Well... it's proven that there are no permanent side-effects of Veritaserum." Hermione said, straightening up defiantly in the face of his challenge, "Only the moral implications of what a person might end up saying. You could pour that whole cauldron of Veritaserum down someone's throat and the worst they would suffer is the humiliation of the secrets they reveal. It's been done. Sodium pentothal can be used as a lethal injection, in a high enough dose!"

Owen grinned, eyes lighting up. He _loved_ the opportunity for a good argument, that much was clear. "Right, then. Wands? How are they not classified as dangerous weapons? You hand them out to eleven-year-olds, when even a minor miscalculation can cause a major explosion. Tell me, does Finnegan have eyebrows this week?"

Hermione twitched slightly, but retaliated just as quickly. "The worst spells take practice and experience. They're dark magic, forbidden in schools."

"Hell with that. Transfiguration should be illegal!" Owen crowed, positively gleeful, "Turning living things into inanimate objects. Want me to call the R.S.P.C.A. on McGonagall's class?"

"It's a practical class." Hermione defended, "And for the most part it's inanimate-to-inanimate."

"Tell that to the snuff box Jack made in his first year exams." Owen grinned, "It still _has_ ears. And then tell me this, is it any better to turn someone into a chair and leave them that way indefinitely, than it is to blast them with a killing curse?"

Hermione blinked, dumbstruck.

"Oh, Unforgivables!" Owen crowed, "How about Imperio-ing someone to stop them from harming themselves or others? Cops are allowed to taser anyone acting threatening, and Aurors' default is Stupify. I bet a good Imperio would stop the suspects hurting themselves on the way to the ground, when you subdue them."

"Owen... the potion?" Tosh prompted, for it had begun to simmer as it was meant to. Owen gave Hermione a 'think about it' look, to which she just stared in blank shock. Then he turned and began to stir the potion in the odd but apparently essential pattern the book dictated, smiling faintly.

That had been a _fun_ debate.

x x x


	62. The Worst In Me

**Author's Note**: In reality, the 14th of February 1996 was a Wednesday. However, as J.K.R. has decreed that Valentine's Day was on a Hogsmeade weekend trip, and therefore a Saturday, I shall be going with the theory that the preceding Friday must therefore have been a Friday 13th. One of my favourite dates in the calendar!

x x x

**Chapter 62: The Worst In Me**

x x x

To say that Friday the thirteenth lived up to its superstitions might have been an understatement in Ianto's opinion. This was at least in part due to the distinct probability that Professor Snape agreed, and had gone to great lengths to make that morning's lesson hell for everyone involved.

Dinner had been bad, as well. Owen had gone ballistic when there wasn't any coffee. It wasn't Ianto's fault that someone had upset the House Elves. Everybody had complained about the quality of the food, it wasn't just the coffee. But naturally, Owen just had to take out his decaffeinated frustrations on pitching a yelling fit in Ianto's general direction.

It didn't help that Jack was nowhere to be seen, and Gwen and Tosh were too busy working on homework to do anything about Owen. Ianto himself was just too polite, but that wouldn't have lasted much longer if Owen hadn't been told off by Umbridge herself.

Ianto felt like he was going to throw up, now. Nobody should feel grateful to that woman, but try as he might he just couldn't take Owen's side when he himself had been the victim of the irate doctor's tirade.

It was then that Ianto decided to figure out just where Jack had disappeared off to. Usually, when he was up to something, he at least told them he was up to something- if not a scrap more information than that- rather than vanishing without any explanation whatsoever.

Jack vanishing without any explanation whatsoever was never good.

He found a secluded hallway where people wouldn't look at him funny for talking to himself, and tapped his commlink, "Jack? Where are you?"

It took a moment of static before Jack answered, "D.A. room. Why?" Since when had Jack started thinking of it as the D.A.'s room, and not theirs?

Ianto didn't answer. He had been headed that way anyway, and was almost there as it was.

Not much more than a minute later, he pushed open the door of that unique room on the seventh floor, and found himself faced with quite the most shocking thing he'd seen all day.

And this was Jack Harkness. He knew Jack Harkness, and he was usually able to cope with the shocking things that Jack Harkness tended to do.

It wasn't just Jack, however. It was Jack and somebody else who looked strikingly like Jack's older self. Except there was no way that this man was Jack, something about him just screamed _evil_ in Ianto's mind at even the first glance.

It certainly didn't help Ianto's opinion of this someone else, that he was effectively pinning Jack down to the couch (_their_ couch), and kissing his neck.

Ianto had heard enough stories of Jack's conquests, and understood enough of the way Jack thought about sex (and anything connected to sex in even the vaguest way) to know that the physical act itself usually meant very little to him. Jack would most likely willingly have sex with his worst enemy, and not think twice about turning around and smothering said enemy in their sleep. He was also just as likely to cheerfully flirt with- and even pick up- random strangers on the street, or most especially new aliens they met that were sentient enough to get the meaning.

What did matter with Jack wasn't the sex- that was just his idea of fun- it was the way he treated the people he was with. Most of the tales of conquest never included any moment of genuine tenderness, only passion. That was one of the reasons Ianto knew he was different... and for that same reason, it one of the few things Jack could do to someone else that would make Ianto bristle with jealousy.

Right now, the _not_-Jack was kissing the _real_ Jack very tenderly indeed.

However, it only took a moment for Jack to notice Ianto, and push the other man back. With surprising ease, by the look of it. As a fully-grown adult, Ianto couldn't push Jack off of him when he tried, but the teenage Jack didn't seem to put any effort into pushing this _imposter _away at all, and yet the man backed off in one perfectly too-fluid motion, as if the lightest push of Jack's hand forcibly guided his entire being.

"Hey, Ianto." Jack smiled at him. He had absolutely no idea how horrifying it was for Ianto to see his lover in that position with someone else, even if that someone else did quite strongly resemble Jack himself.

"Who is that?" Ianto asked, not taking his eyes off the other man.

Jack glanced at his elder doppelganger for a moment, seeming not to be quite sure how to answer that. Eventually, however, he just shrugged to the man and turned to stand up. It was the strangest thing to watch. Jack moved as if he could just swing his legs off the couch unimpeded, and the man quickly backed off to allow just that, ending up on his feet as well a moment later.

"He's a Boggart." Jack admitted, honestly looking somewhat abashed at the admission. "They're non-corporeal, projecting telepathic illusions of sight, sound and touch. I was just, ah... experimenting."

"I can do about six other senses, as well, but most people don't tend to notice." the impostor- the Boggart- added vaguely. Its voice was a perfect imitation of Jack's, but its demeanour was far more aggressive. It stood tall, but not in Jack's usual 'everybody look at me, aren't I great' posture... it was more like it thought it owned the place.

"Aren't Boggarts supposed to imitate your worst fear?" Ianto asked warily, still eyeing said Boggart with deep suspicion and disapproval.

"Yes." Jack said bluntly, "I just happened to be afraid of something that I could become, rather than anything more... normal... like spiders or snakes, or...?" he sounded terribly bored at this pathetic list, and actually turned to the Boggart itself for further examples.

"Dementors." the Boggart answered, smirking darkly. It didn't see the way Jack cringed at that word, but Ianto did. "That was one of the most impressive forms I've ever taken, I think." It moved to step past Jack, but Jack put his hand out and stopped the creature with that slightest gesture. It was as if its physical form- projected illusion- was incapable of resisting even the least pressure from something real.

"And I've dated worse." Jack added bluntly, "Honestly, he's pretty damned handsome, if you ask me."

The Boggart gave Jack a vaguely amused smirk, but clearly decided not to speak in spite of wanting to. Then it deftly stepped out of Jack's reach and quickly covered the few steps to the point where it was closer to Ianto than to Jack.

"No!" Jack shouted at it, trying to grab it to pull it back... but he wasn't fast enough.

And the Boggart sneered viciously at Ianto, looming over him dangerously.

Its appearance didn't change. That was the second shock to Ianto's system (after seeing it kissing Jack, in the first place, that is). He had half-expected Lisa... or just plain old Cyberman. Either would be pretty terrifying, really.

Then it took one last step closer and lightly caressed the side of Ianto's face. Its touch _felt_ like Jack's, but it still screamed of all kinds of evil and wrongness in his mind.

It leaned closer, and murmured oh-so seductively in Ianto's ear, "You're a very bad boy, Ianto Jones."

He was drawn in by the alluring scent of fifty-first century pheromones, and the soft tones of Jack's voice. He began to forget it wasn't really Jack.

"A liar, a thief, a cheat." Jack's voice continued, "You used me, all those years ago. Stalked me, bribed me, tried very hard to trick me." he chuckled faintly, "You know why I finally gave in to you? Because I needed something nice to look at, in that pit I inherited from Torchwood. That's all you are, Ianto Jones. Eye-Candy, and a part-time shag. I never cared about you, I just wanted a warm and willing body to _fuck_ every night."

Ianto flinched away from that, but it didn't stop.

"I know you've been lying to me, all this time, and you know what? I don't care! You could have told me any damned thing you wanted, I'd still only have cared about one thing." Ianto felt a hand grab at his arse, and he shoved the other man away, horrified.

As he backed up he managed to remind himself that this was not Jack. This was a Boggart. A fear-demon. It wasn't real.

"I never cared about you, Ianto!" the Boggart crowed angrily, "_I hate you!_"

It didn't matter... it looked like Jack, and it _hurt_ to hear that. A literal pain in his chest, as he staggered back away from the Boggart.

"Don't listen to him, Ianto!" Jack shouted, shoving past the Boggart, which completely lost its threatening posture at the slightest nudge. It almost fell over, actually. And then Jack's hands were on Ianto's shoulders, and their eyes met again, "It's not true, don't listen to him." he said more gently, this time.

Ianto trembled slightly, as Jack reached a hand out to run through his hair, "But he's right." he said weakly.

"He can read your mind, and uses that to create your worst fear. It's not real." Jack said gently, trying to reassure him, but the damage was done.

"But I-"

"I already knew you lied, Ianto." Jack said quickly, "I don't care about that, because I know the truth... but I still care about _you_." They were so very close, now, almost nose-to-nose, and Jack was holding the sides of Ianto's face, looking deep into his eyes. Ianto wanted to believe him, and so he did... desperately clinging to Jack to make the living nightmare that was the Boggart's words go away. And then Jack opened his mouth to speak once more.

_Say it, oh please say it._

"I-"

"Can somebody please fear something that doesn't have ears, right about now?" the Boggart sniped, "This is disgusting!"

Jack turned around angrily, and so very suddenly that Ianto almost lost his footing as Jack let him go, "An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman walked into a bar-"

"Oh sweet goddesses, alright! I'll behave!" the creature quickly cried, backing up defensively.

Ianto's lip twitched faintly in the vague direction of a malicious smirk, as he remembered that Boggarts were supposed to have a similarly violent reaction to human laughter as, oh, say, the Slitheen had to vinegar. He tried very hard to think of something funny, but strangely drew a complete blank. Even Jack's classic joke intro led him nowhere, right now.

"Why do you fear yourself?" Ianto asked very quietly, now watching the Boggart with a deep frown.

"Because our beloved Captain here has the one thing every evil overlord wants." the creature answered, grinning dangerously, "If he ever gave in to those terrible, dark impulses he tries so hard to hide from you all, he would be completely unstoppable. Immortal. Eternal." It had stepped closer, slowly circling Ianto, who turned just as slowly, keeping his eyes on this monster at all times, "You have no idea what he used to be, before you met him. You have his precious _Doctor_ to thank for this semblance of humanity he's managed to scrape together to pretend to be presentable for you, Eye-Candy."

Ianto carefully considered these words, glancing to Jack to see not a trace of denial there. After a moment, he sighed, "You know what? I don't care." he said coldly. The Boggart took a step back, startled by this. "I don't care about who he _was_, what matters is who he is now. And if it bothers him enough for _you_ to take this form, then I really don't think he's ever going to become you."

The Boggart seethed for a moment, and its form seemed to shimmer slightly. It flinched, and looked like it was fighting very hard to hold its shape. Ianto caught a glimpse of terrifyingly familiar metal plated armour, as the illusion shifted, but then Jack stepped between them, and the Boggart firmly resumed its impersonation of Jack's own dark side.

A faint smile played across Ianto's lips, a sense of victory rising in his chest. He had honestly believed every word he had just said, and the Boggart seemed to have reacted very badly to his newfound lack of fear.

"I envy your confidence, Ianto." Jack said quietly, giving him a fleeting but honest smile. "You might be forgetting, though..." he added sadly, "I don't believe I'll become him as long as you're alive... but I still have forever."

Ianto flinched at that, finding yet more loathing for the Boggart, that it would dare make Jack think about such terrible things... however true those things might be. "How could you let that monster kiss you?" he asked weakly. Jack frowned at this question, mild confusion crossing his face, before Ianto continued. "It feeds on our fears. It only wants to hurt us. How can you stand to be near it?"

Jack looked like he was about to say something, but then shut his mouth quickly and shook his head, clearly changing his mind, "It's completely harmless, Ianto. As long as you don't trust it or let it get to you, it really can't hurt you." His illusion of self-confidence- and Ianto could clearly see through the illusion this time- reasserted itself, and Jack smirked faintly, "Besides, he looks just like me. I'm not sure if it would count as masturbation, or a fascinating species I've never had the _pleasure_ of encountering before. The fact it's incorporeal, an _illusion_ of physical presence, is honestly fascinating."

Ianto glared at the Boggart. He really did hate it, right now. "I get it." he said coldly.

The worst part was that he _did_ understand that Jack's interest in this- this monster was, by Jack's standards, entirely innocent. He didn't feel any emotional attraction to it, he was just curious about its unique physiology. And, of course, narcissism had something to do with it, too.

He snorted weakly, more to himself than for Jack to hear, "Have fun, then." He turned and stalked out of the room as quickly as possible, and with as much feigned dignity as he could muster.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he turned and ran all the way down to his common room.

x x x

That evening, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team were getting ready for practice. As one they gathered in the common room, for a sense of camaraderie and team spirit, before heading up to the pitch together.

However, when Cedric Diggory opened the common room door to lead his team out, he was almost hit in the face. Someone had been violently assaulting the painting in an attempt to gain access to the common room.

A Slytherin someone, at that.

In fact, it was none other than Jack Harkness.

Judging by his state of irritation and exhaustion, he must have been fighting with the painted little cottage for quite some time, at that.

"You alright, Harkness?" Zacharias asked, chuckling faintly at the younger boy's evident distress.

"I need to speak to Ianto." Harkness said immediately. In fact, he tried to shove past the team to get into the common room, even as he spoke.

They didn't let him in.

"Why?" Albert Cadwallader asked, scowling, "Not like he wants to see you right now."

Harkness turned on his classmate, somewhere between a vicious glare and open emotional pain, "What?"

"He's in the dorm." Al said, clearly uncomfortable with the glare aimed his way, "Was right upset, and all. What the bleeding hell did you do to him, Harkness?"

Rather suddenly, with a slight shake of his head, Harkness seemed to snap out of his apparent distress, doing his best to look calm, unruffled, and most of all not give anything away. Most people assumed it was just a Slytherin thing, but Cedric had seen Ianto do it a few times, too.

"I just need to talk to him." he said too-calmly.

Cedric frowned, but then nodded. With a wave to his team-mates he commanded, "Go on, guys. Zach, you're in charge until I catch up." Zach nodded efficiently enough, and as the team walked away Cedric turned to Harkness, "This way."

He led the young Slytherin through the common room, ignoring the vague mutter of, "Wow, Ianto was right... this place _is_ Hobbitty." He also tried not to wonder what on Earth a Hobbit was.

In the dormitory corridor, he stopped just outside the third-year boys' room, and knocked tentatively. Harkness seemed very agitated as Cedric waited patiently for a reply. Finally, the door opened a crack- not enough for Cedric to see in, but enough for whoever answered the door to see out.

"What it is?" Ianto's voice asked too-politely. He sounded a bit hoarse, as if he might have been crying.

"Your Slytherin friend wants to speak to you." Cedric said simply. It was the truth, and the easiest way to confront this kind of situation was to be direct and honest.

The door slammed shut.

Cedric sighed, and knocked again.

It took four more tries for Ianto to answer once more, this time with blatant reluctance, "Tell him to go away." he pleaded.

"No way." Harkness answered, "Ianto, we need to talk."

_SLAM._

"Damnit." Harkness hissed, before stepping over to the door and shouting, "I spent three hours trying to get in here, to speak to you! I am _not_ just going to leave!"

Silence.

Then after a moment, the door opened a crack. "Three hours?" Ianto asked quietly.

"Yes." Harkness said, through gritted teeth. Cedric noticed the sideways glance the boy gave him, making it clear that there was something he didn't want to say in front of the Prefect.

Cedric sighed, "I'd prefer, for the peace of mind of the other students, that you take this outside the house area."

Harkness' sideways look this time was a resentful glare, and Cedric did cringe slightly at the implication.

Yes, there was still prejudice between the houses, even after all they had been through, between that whole Quidditch thing the previous year, and now the D.A. this year. Still, not everyone would be happy to know that a member of the so-called 'evil' house had been left unsupervised in their common room, and it was Cedric's job to look after the interests of the students in his house... whether he entirely agreed with those interests or not.

A few seconds passed in uneasy silence, before the door opened fully, and Ianto stepped very quickly past both of them, grabbing the sleeve of Harkness' robe as he did so, and leading him out of the corridor. Cedric followed them across the common room, and made sure that the portrait-door was sealed behind them before jogging on ahead to catch up with his team.

He hoped Zach hadn't traumatised the new second-year players too badly, in the meantime.

x x x

A few corridors away from the Hufflepuff common room, Jack pulled Ianto into a disused classroom, "I didn't-" he started to try to explain.

"I know." Ianto interrupted sharply, "Three hours. I know you, there's no way you had time to-"

"I'm sorry." Jack said quickly, "I didn't mean to-"

"I know." Ianto said, almost laughing now. He paused a moment, and this time Jack didn't interrupt. "Just a game to you, isn't it?" he asked softly, "You still don't get that it means so much more in this century."

Jack gently reached a hand up to run through Ianto's hair, then down to stroke his cheek. "I thought you understood?"

Ianto slowly raised his eyes to meet Jack's. His gaze was dark and calculating. Jack could feel the tension with the same certainty of watching a serpent preparing to strike. Words were Ianto's weapons, and he anticipated a vicious blow... but he wasn't prepared for just how hard it hit him. "How would you feel if I said I wanted to fuck the Master?"

It had only been a couple of months since Jack had told him about that. A quiet moment over Christmas, when he had shared one of his most horrific memories, and it _had _made him feel better when Ianto had comforted him as he poured out his heart and soul. Told him all about the monster with a human face that had decimated the Earth, tortured Jack to death for three hundred and sixty-four days without allowing him to sleep, and all but came back to life every time Jack had felt the presence of a Dementor.

It was still a fresh wound, in spite of the time that had passed since then.

"I'd question your sanity." Jack answered bluntly. He held the mask of indifference for only half a second before admitting quietly, "I would resent it."

"I understand when you flirt with other people. I didn't even bat an eye when you kissed Myrtle, and god knows that was messed up." Ianto sighed, leaning back against the wall and pulling Jack gently with him. "But there's just some... people. For want of a better word."

Jack chuckled, leaning against Ianto, pushing him up against the wall. So close now that their noses almost touched. "Anyone in particular?"

"The Boggart." Ianto said immediately, "John Hart. The Doctor."

Jack nodded slowly, though he was sure Ianto saw the way his eyes turned away at the Doctor's name.

"They hurt you, and I hate them for it." Ianto explained, tilting his head slightly to one side. It was an invitation to kiss him... when he finished talking, at least. "But you still would, if it wasn't for me... wouldn't you?"

Jack frowned, but didn't deny it. He would. He really would.

Instead of admitting that, he kissed Ianto. The question had been 'if it wasn't for me'. He wouldn't do anything to hurt Ianto if he could avoid it. He would be entirely monogamous, if that had been what Ianto wanted... he was grateful that the line had been drawn so far from monogamy- and that it had been entirely Ianto's choice, he had never pushed for more- but that didn't change how he felt.

He would do _anything_ for Ianto... and that terrified him.

"Oh, that's just disgusting!"

Jack found himself being dragged away from Ianto by the collar of his robes, and faced with three Slytherin seventh-years. Warrington was holding him, Montague was aiming a wand in Ianto's general direction, and Yaxley was the ringleader of the three.

"Is there anything sane people call romantic that you don't find disgusting, Yaxley?" Jack sniped, almost instinctively.

"A pure-blood man and woman." Ianto said in his perfect deadpan, "Not kissing, not even holding hands. Just getting married and actually having their little pure-blooded baby arrive by stork, too."

Jack snorted with laughter. Yaxley drew his wand and aimed it at Jack, "You disgust me, Harkness. You're a blood-traitor and a whore, and you need to be taught a lesson."

"Oh, I know how this story goes." Jack said darkly, "The militant homophobe thinks the best way to teach the gay boy a lesson is to rape him, right?"

"I actually did read a case like that, in the news, once." Ianto observed, glowering at Jack for even joking about such a thing.

Jack leaned back against Warrington and added in an all-but purring whisper, "Although, if you let me go and turn against your Death Eater friend here, _you_ could have me willingly."

"Curse his mouth off, Yaxley!" Warrington demanded.

Yaxley sneered in disgust at Jack, "I had something much more painful in mind." He slowly lowered the wand from pointing at Jack's chest to aiming for his groin. "Castration hex. Little bastard has a one-track mind, this ought to hurt him the most."

Jack immediately began to struggle against his captor, but Warrington held him very securely. "Come on, be more creative." he suggested, with a hint of desperation, "Full-on sex-change spell? You could still do the whole rape thing, that way."

"The hell do you keep saying that, you little shit?" Yaxley asked, evidently disgusted.

"I just can't help seeing you as the type." Jack snarled.

Entirely aside from the fact that he was _deliberately _trying to provoke Yaxley into attacking without thinking to aim _there_... he really did know the type. The Time Agency recruited every kind of amoral you could imagine, gave you one hell of a perspective on that sort of thing.

Yaxley was absolutely livid... and he cast a wordless curse at Jack. It struck his chest and he started to scream. He didn't know what was happening, only that he was in pain. It wasn't the Cruciatus curse... it was much more localised to his chest, and felt almost literally like it was on fire. And he had the personal experience to compare.

Then quite suddenly he fell. Warrington had let him go, and Ianto was kneeling next to him.

He opened his eyes and saw that all three older Slytherins were unconscious on the ground. "What-?" he gasped, still in agony.

"It's always the quiet ones." Ianto said, smirking, "They're going to be very confused about how I did it, when they come round." He gave Jack a very serious look, "Best get you to the hospital wing before that happens."

"Tell me... what you did?" Jack insisted.

"Just stunners." Ianto said with a grin, "They will forever claim it was wandless magic." He pulled up his sleeve and revealing that his wand was taped to his forearm, "But I've heard that all it takes to _use_ a wand is skin-contact, and pointing it in the right direction."

Jack grinned weakly through the pain, "You... Ianto Jones... are amazing."

x x x


	63. The Best In You

x x x

**Chapter 63: The Best In You**

x x x

Harry wasn't quite sure about this plan, but Jack had said it would be beneficial in the long run. It was psychological, rather than practical combat, but it would make the D.A. stronger for it. He believed that, but he was still incredibly nervous as he, Ron and Hermione arrived in the crowded room to find the rest of the D.A. already there.

Jack and his friends were gathered to one side... along with _it_. Everyone else was avoiding them, edgily. Untrusting of _it_, and with good reason.

"Good evening, everyone." Harry called as he stepped into the centre of the room, between the main body of the D.A. and the five (six?) others in the corner. He glanced over at _it_, and nodded curtly. _It_ blew him a kiss, and he pulled a truly disgusted expression for that.

Disgusted at _its_ nerve. Not afraid. That was what _it_ wanted... fear.

"Today will be an exercise in self-control and willpower. A safe environment to test your nerve and prove to yourselves that you can face your fears."

"If you can do this, you should be able to laugh in the face of Death, sneer at doom, and chuckle at catastrophe... then spit in Voldemort's face!" Owen Harper crowed.

"Not helping, mate." Ron sniped.

"This-" Harry gestured at _it_, "-is a Boggart. But we're not going to be using the Riddikulus charm today." He stepped aside, nodding to the five (six?) people behind him.

Gwen, Owen and Tosh stepped back as well, while Ianto Jones stepped out into the middle of the room.

"Before we begin." Jack said carefully, "I'd like to introduce you all. This is my worst fear; myself." he gestured politely to the Boggart. It just sneered at this introduction. "If anyone has trouble with this exercise, I'll be here to step in and force him back to this form. He can't hurt you physically... although I'm a bit sceptical of Harry's worst fear." Harry folded his arms defensively, but said nothing. He didn't want to test it, either. "Now, Ianto will demonstrate what we're going to be doing today."

Taking this as its cue, the Boggart stepped smoothly past Jack, to face Ianto directly.

Harry watched as it seemed to hesitate, "You're still not sure, are you?" it asked him, smirking darkly.

Ianto glowered at it, and then it flickered and shifted. The imposing figure of a six foot tall metal man took the place of Jack's older self. Black soulless eyes, and shiny silver plate body. It was terribly wrong, whatever it was.

It stepped forward, imposing and intimidating. Ianto didn't back off. "I've fought your kind before." he told it, voice shaking slightly with fear.

"**YOU WILL BE DELETED**." it said, its voice entirely inhuman. Terrifying.

Ianto took one step back as it continued its ominous approach, "This is the part where I shoot you, even though guns don't really work." He continued shakily. "There are six different curses that _would_ stop you. Only two of them are legal." He sounded almost like he wanted to laugh in his fear. It was honestly an impressive display of bravery, even if they did know it was an illusion.

The creature reached out its hand to him, arm straight, "**YOU WILL BE DELETED**." it repeated, monotone, like a perfect recording of the first time it had spoken.

Ianto stopped backing up, "And this is the part where-"

Its hand was just about to touch his shoulder, and he was honestly shaking with fear but he didn't back away. Jack stepped between him and the metal fiend. Its hand clasped his shoulder instead.

"-that happens." Ianto said shakily, biting his lip so as not to laugh.

The Boggart was Jack again, and the real Jack glanced back over his shoulder at Ianto, "Every time." he said with a smile. As if that touch would have been fatal from the real thing. The way they both reacted to it, Harry wouldn't be surprised in the least.

The Boggart backed up a step, looking deeply amused, "Sweet, really. My teeth are rotting." it growled at Jack.

"Bite me." Jack sniped.

"Say that to my Master." it retorted sharply. Harry didn't know what to make of that exchange at all.

Jack just gave the creature one incredibly rude hand-gesture, before turning to face the rest of the D.A. "In case you didn't get it, this exercise is in facing your worst fears. Talk back to it, reach out and touch it... insult its blood-status if it's Voldemort. Confront that which haunts you the most, and you will be stronger for it."

The assembled students exchanged shocked looks, and began to talk amongst each other. "Who wants to go first?" Harry asked carefully.

Silence.

Then Neville stepped forward. Harry smiled, nodding to him. He remembered what Neville's Boggart had been in third year, and rather looked forward to a vehement tirade against Snape. Jack and Ianto both backed off, allowing Neville to approach the Boggart.

It shot one last glance at Jack, before turning on Neville and shifting... into a woman.

A pale and gaunt woman with messy black curly hair and wild eyes, dressed all in black. Neville stared at her, clearly surprised to see her. Clearly he had also expected Snape. She cackled gleefully at his reaction, "Poor little baby boy all upset, is he? Maybe he needs a _real_ reason to hurt?" she crowed, raising a wand threateningly, "Teach him how to _really_ cry!"

Neville stood rooted to the spot, shaking with fear... but also something else. Rage building up, almost tangible as he blinked back real tears.

The woman made to lunge at him, to attack, but just as she did he yelled, "_YOU BITCH!_" Everyone jumped, and the Boggart-woman hesitated, staggered by the words alone. "_YOU HORRIBLE-! YOU DESPICABLE-!_" Neville tried a few times, before catching himself, "_SICK, SAD, PSYCHO... IF ANYONE DESERVES WHERE _THEY _ ENDED UP, IT'S YOU!_ You really need your head examined, you blood-status _WHORE!_ Bet the rumours about Death Eaters are true for you, and all!"

She stumbled backwards a step, shocked. Everyone was shocked. And _everyone_ had heard those rumours... that _Neville_ of all people would invoke them completely threw everyone off.

"One of these days I'll come after you, and then you'll wish I knew the Cruciatus curse. It'd be kinder than you deserve!"

The woman's eyes were wide with fear of her own, and Harry had to remind himself that this was probably because the Boggart just wasn't accustomed to being confronted this way. That had to be it, right? She honestly looked terrified and _wounded_.

Jack stepped between the two now, looking downright impressed, "That was amazing." he said, grinning so brightly it seemed to light up the room.

Meanwhile, the Boggart resumed its previous form. Jack's older and evil self... and it quickly approached him and actually put its arm across his chest in a rather uncomfortable semblance of a hug, resting its chin on his shoulder and pouting. Harry just heard it murmur softly to Jack, "You had to start me on the best of Gryffindor house? You sadist, you're gorgeous."

Jack shrugged his shoulders and it let go of him immediately. "Who's next?" he asked, coldly indifferent to this creature that wore his own face. Even Harry felt kind of sorry for the Boggart, after it had faced Neville.

"Guess that's me." Ron said stepping up to them slowly.

Jack stepped out of the way again, and the Boggart sneered resentfully before becoming the predictable Acromantula. Hissing and clicking as it stepped four of its eight long legs towards Ron.

Ron trembled visibly, but then stepped forward in spite of his fears. He reached out and touched one of the hairy legs, "This is disgusting." he whimpered as he did so.

Nothing happened for several seconds. Everyone was watching expectantly, and Ron slowly looked around at his audience. When his eyes settled on Jack he seemed to _get_ what was expected of him, and turned slowly to stare the Boggart-spider in its many eyes, his near-comical squeamish-face now replaced with pure determination. "I ain't afraid of you, mate." he told it, "Squish your cousins all the time... from a distance."

The spider hissed and snapped its pincers.

"If you were real, that messed up face would have gotten kicked by now." Ron retorted, "Then cursed. Know a good one for killing spiders, and all."

"That's good." Jack said, stepping forward again. Ron backed off and the Boggart became Jack again.

"Why's it you, anyway?" Ron asked, frowning.

"He who fears becoming the darkness never will." Luna Lovegood said softly stepping forward, "Never again, leastways."

Ron scowled, but then shrugged and backed off, "Doesn't mean I have to trust him, though, does it?" he asked her.

Luna stared at him, as if shocked at the very suggestion of trusting Jack Harkness. "Oh, of course not."

x x x

Even with all these extra exercises, the D.A. were progressing far faster than any of them could have hoped. Everyone helped everyone else out, when they needed it. Everyone worked together, even when they didn't like the other person in question. Zacharias Smith had been spotted helping the Creevey brothers with their shielding spells. Hermione had worked well with Luna Lovegood without a single word against the Quibbler. Even Ron had cooperated with Jack on more than one occasion.

And not only that, but they were all learning and mastering the spells far faster than Hermione had predicted as a reasonable learning curve.

By the end of February, and by popular demand of almost every student in the D.A., they began to work on the Patronus spell.

The five Torchwood team members sat in a small group, as Harry Potter explained to the room at large how to cast the Patronus charm. He went into great detail about how you had to find a powerful positive memory to focus on, it had to be the strongest good emotion you could conjure.

As Jack sat back, idly sifted through his memories, trying to find one that felt suitable, Gwen murmured softly, "My first kiss with Rhys." she grinned brightly, as they all looked at her oddly, "It was so normal, complaining in a supermarket queue about the moron behind the counter... and then he blurted out that he was planning this brilliant date for us, and I kissed him. It was like the real world just went away and everything was perfect."

Taking her cue from Gwen, it seemed, Tosh spoke next, "The first time I completed a virtual intelligence computer program." she said softly, grinning shyly, "I was only thirteen, and it called me mommy."

Owen bit back the instinct to snort, instead nodding shortly and keeping his head down. He didn't want to say anything yet, because he didn't _have_ anything yet. Ianto was also frowning in concentration, before shaking his head, and the question seemed to pass on to Jack. Both girls watched him expectantly.

Jack smiled faintly, "I was gonna die... and this was before I was..." he hesitated, fighting the Secret for only half a second before figuring out a way around it, "It would have been for real. The feeling when he showed up to save my life, and they were both so innocently cheerful about it, both treated it like it was so normal to save a scoundrel like me, when less than a day before I had nearly wiped out humanity... completely by accident, of course."

Owen snorted, "Why am I not surprised? I should be, y'know."

Jack shook his head, "It was the first time I can clearly remember feeling like my life meant something to someone else... and they made it seem like the very thought they could leave me behind was a joke." he grinned, "He had the nerve to say, 'close the door, your ship's about to explode, there's gonna be a draft'."

The others laughed at this, and Harry Potter appeared next to their group now, "Have you all thought of a memory to use?" he asked.

Jack, Tosh and Gwen nodded, but the other two shook their heads. "Nothing that isn't attached to a bad memory as well." Owen said bluntly.

"My Patronus is conjured from a memory of my parents." Harry admitted, "You just have to not think about the bad things that happen after the memory you're using."

"Difficult." Owen snarked.

"Just try it." Harry all but ordered.

Owen's eyes narrowed, not liking to take an order from a kid, even if he himself currently appeared to be younger than Harry. But then he concentrated, and held up his wand. After a moment, he said the incantation, "Expecto Patronum." It didn't do much, but there was a wisp of faint silvery light.

"Very good for a first try." Harry said, nodding encouragingly. Owen scowled, hating to concede the fact that Harry made a good teacher, considering the equally clear fact that he was still a kid. Harry now looked at Ianto, "You next."

Ianto frowned, looking at Jack for encouragement. Jack smiled and Ianto all-but felt his heart melt at that smile, suddenly knowing exactly what memory he should use. He held up his wand, "Expecto Patronum." A silvery form rose from the wand, spreading wings in a beautiful and elegant pose, before soaring up to the ceiling.

The entire class turned to look, and a few of them cheered as the silvery bird swept down to circle Ianto before disappearing. "What was that?" Gwen asked, awed.

"It looked like a phoenix." Harry said, clearly enough for everyone to hear, and grinning with pride that he'd been the one to teach Ianto this spell, "Very good, Ianto. You should all be able to conjure a fully formed Patronus like this, given time and practice... but you need to remember it will be a lot harder to do when there's a Dementor nearby."

He quickly turned back to the smaller group, and nodded encouragingly to Tosh, who tried next, "Expecto Patronum." but she only managed wisps of light, like Owen had done. Gwen didn't even make a spark of light, and Harry had to spend a minute correcting her wand-movement, before she could match Tosh and Owen's wisps of light.

Finally, it was Jack's turn, "Expecto Patronum." Jack said, concentrating on that happy memory of the night he had met the Doctor. The shimmering light he conjured was vague and blurry, not as strong as Ianto's Patronus, but did take on a kind of canine form, silently imitating the motion of a howling wolf, before fading out. He grinned as Harry complimented this, and went on to check on the other students.

"A phoenix!" Owen spluttered with laughter as soon as Harry was out of earshot.

"Shut up, Owen." Ianto said dismissively, "At least mine worked."

They all jumped as a perfectly imagined silver bunny-rabbit hopped past them and on to weave around the entire room. Looking around to see the source of this Patronus, they saw the dreamy-eyed Luna Lovegood clapping her hands in glee at her success.

x x x

Gwen was only half-asleep when she heard the scream from somewhere within Gryffindor tower.

"Bloody hell, is he trying to wake the dead?" Owen's voice echoed tinnily. The commlink was sitting on Gwen's bedside table, and she wouldn't even have heard him if not for the sudden deathly silence that had followed that scream.

She picked it up and automatically put it in her ear, answering, "Sounded like night terrors to me."

"Well I'll give him some terrorising if he doesn't pipe down and let the rest of us get some sleep." Owen grumbled, an entirely empty threat.

Gwen sighed, "Oh, leave him alone, it's not his fault." She paused, then asked, "Who was it, anyway?"

"Who else? Harry bloody Potter." Owen declared in his dourest tone, "You might be on to something about the night terrors, y'know."

She rolled her eyes, and looked up to see that the other girls had slept right on through it. Either they were really heavy sleepers, or Torchwood had acclimated her to a danger-sense even in her sleep. She chose to hope for the former, as the latter was far too morbid for her liking.

But then, "Jack?" the whispered voice sounded very much like Harry. Gwen did not speak, and nor did Owen. "Jack, are you there?"

"Yes, Peeves is singing in the common room about you." Jack answered, sounding half asleep, "Something about waking up screaming?"

"Peeves... in the Slytherin common room? Wonderful." Harry deadpanned darkly, "Just what I need."

"Would you like me to shut him up? I do have the resources to do it." Jack offered.

Harry chuckled faintly, "No thanks, the damage is done, if you already heard what happened." Then suddenly his tone turned serious, "But I need to talk to you. It's about... you know, our private study sessions."

Gwen raised an eyebrow, and even without a sound over the comms to suggest it, she was sure Owen was fighting the urge to make at least a dozen different snide remarks. This just got intriguing.

"Private study sessions?" Ron's voice demanded in the background, "Do I even want to know?"

"Give me ten minutes." Jack offered, "Then we can talk, okay?"

"Okay." Harry answered quietly.

Gwen heard the tap of a commlink deactivating, and immediately switched frequencies and called Owen, "So what do you reckon that was about?" he asked her immediately.

"I have no idea." she answered, "But I plan to find out."

x x x

Ten minutes later.

Harry and Ron suddenly found themselves transported to another point in the castle. It was the D.A. room! "What the-?" Ron demanded.

"Nice pyjamas, Weasley." Harkness joked cheerfully. Far too cheerfully for someone who had been woken up at two in the morning. "I thought it might be rude not to invite you, prove I'm not doing anything uncivilised to your friend here."

"But you're just fine taking the mickey out of what I'm wearing, is that it?" Ron sniped back.

Harkness hesitated at that, as if he was trying very hard _not_ to say something just then. He shrugged, and turned to Harry, "What did you see?"

Harry glanced warily at Ron, before explaining, "He was talking to a Death Eater. Rookwood. He- Rookwood told him that..." he frowned in concentration, carefully trying to remember the details, "-that Bode couldn't have removed 'it'. Didn't say what, or from where. Said that Bode _knew_ he couldn't have done it, but he was Imperiused by Malfoy to try-"

"Lucius or Narcissa?" Jack interrupted. Harry and Ron both gave him an odd look for that question. It would never have occurred to either of them to suspect Narcissa Malfoy of anything.

"He just said Malfoy." Harry answered, still a little surprised by the question, "But I'm sure he meant Lucius."

Jack just shrugged vaguely, "Anything else?"

"Yeah." Harry said, nodding and thinking carefully once more, "Said he's been wasting months on pointless schemes. He thanked Rookwood, don't think that's too common for him. Avery's gonna get it, though. He was the one who said Bode would have been able to remove it."

"Hmm, are we talking about stealing from Gringotts... or removing warts?" Jack asked idly.

Ron spluttered, "Reckon it's the stealing, mate."

Harry nodded, "Something he didn't have last time." he agreed with certainty, "Some kind of weapon, I think... he sees it as a weapon, at least, but I don't know. The way the Order talked about it... could be anything."

"Lots of things can be used as weapons." Jack pointed out carefully, "Wands, swords, guns... words."

"I dunno." Harry admitted.

"Hang on, so what're these 'private study sessions', then?" Ron demanded.

"Kind of like Occlumency... except not." Jack said casually, "I can keep out even the most powerful telepaths, though not by traditional means. When Dumbledore realised this, he sort of enlisted me to teach Harry."

Ron turned to Harry, stunned by this revelation, "So you've been letting him try to read your mind, or something?"

"Yes." Jack said, while Harry was still squirming at the tone Ron had used, "But I promise, I behaved myself. Mostly."

"When I started getting flashes of Voldemort's thoughts, I told Jack about it... he said I could learn to spy on him, if I was careful." he turned suddenly to face Jack, "I didn't do it on purpose, it just sort of... happened."

Jack just nodded slowly, "Strong emotions can weaken mental defence. Works both ways, so the more in control you are, and the more often he loses control, the better we all are in the end."

"I guess." Harry sulked, "I still think it's disgusting."

Jack raised a sceptical eyebrow, "Really?"

"Voldemort's mind..." Harry said softly.

"Oh, right." Jack laughed, "Because telepathy in general can be a lot more fun that what little I've shown you, you know."

Harry shot him a sceptical sideways look, "But you already said no to that, though, didn't you?"

"Fair point." Jack admitted, with far too much of his crooked-smile charm.

Ron scowled, "What?"

"Nothing." Jack said far too quickly.

"Absolutely nothing." Harry agreed, with poorly feigned innocence.

Ron never did find out what they were talking about.

x x x


	64. No One Expects The Spanish Inquisition

x x x

**Chapter 64: No One Expects The Spanish Inquisition**

x x x

Jack was secretive, played his cards close to his chest. It was a Slytherin trait, and one that Harry hated most. The entire being-able-to-read-Voldemort's-mind thing was part of that. Jack outright said he wouldn't tell Dumbledore about it. Not that he shouldn't, just that he wasn't going to.

So Harry decided he should, instead.

Whatever Jack said, Dumbledore was still a great and wise wizard, and Harry still trusted him.

So it was that he stood at the top of the spiral staircase, and knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office.

"Enter." Dumbledore's voice called out, and Harry pushed the not-nearly-as-heavy-as-it-looked wooden door open, stepping inside as he did so. Dumbledore had been writing, and looked up only briefly before returning his gaze to the parchment. "Ah, Mr Potter, what is it?"

Harry took one more step into the room, so he was able to speak without feeling a need to shout, "Occlumency, sir." he answered.

Dumbledore set down the quill he had been using, and seemed to deliberate very carefully before looking up. Past Harry, not at him. "Yes?"

"It's just..." Harry said, frowning. Why wasn't he looking at him? "I've been making a lot of progress, but..." He hesitated for a moment, unsure exactly where to begin.

And Dumbledore still wasn't looking at him. All year, he'd been doing this, and Harry was getting sick of it. A creeping sensation in the back of his mind, very like the snake, like Voldemort... clawing at his emotions, trying to derail his train of thought... and he suddenly remembered what Jack had said. Stay calm, stay focused, and it won't get through as easily.

"I've been having these visions." he explained, "Like the snake at Christmas. I've been seeing it all through Voldemort's eyes." The feeling in the back of his mind didn't go away, but it wasn't making him yell, or want to lash out like before.

But now Dumbledore looked right at him.

Their eyes met, and that anger that was simmering there in the back of his mind flared up like a vicious beast. He closed his eyes, and focused as if trying to conjure a Patronus- like Jack had suggested- and the feeling vanished almost instantly. He opened his eyes and met Dumbledore's gaze steadily.

Silence. Only the ticking and whistling of the odd gadgets around the room.

"That was him, wasn't it?" Harry asked, "Just now."

Dumbledore sighed, and nodded slowly, "Yes, Harry. I'm afraid so." he said, turning to walk slowly to a window, which he proceeded to stare out of, "I must say, I am impressed with your progress."

"How come I'm seeing these things, though?" Harry asked, "Last night, Voldemort was talking to Rookwood, about how Bode couldn't remove something. Even after I woke up I could feel it, knew he was torturing Avery for misinforming him in the first place."

Dumbledore turned back to face him quite suddenly, "Bode, you say? Well I suppose that does explain-" But there he stopped, "How much more have you seen, Harry?"

"Not enough to know what 'it' is." Harry answered rather more sharply than he meant. He quickly reigned in his emotions and reasserted the mental shield of distant memories of being truly contented and loved. "I have a right to know, Professor. I'm involved in this, whether the order thinks I'm old enough or not."

"Of course you are, Harry." Dumbledore answered with a nod, "Lord Voldemort is seeking one of the most valuable weapons anyone may wish to possess." A brief ominous pause, and then, "Information." Well that completely killed the tension that had been building up all year, and was quite anticlimactic at that. "Particularly rare information, which could influence the direction of this war."

Harry frowned, "But you won't tell me what?"

"Of course not, my boy." Dumbledore dismissed, causing yet another internal conflict in Harry's mind. That dark presence, the serpent, reared angrily at the denial, and it took more effort this time to force it back. "And I think you know why."

Harry stared for a few seconds, as the realisation hit, "If I know it... there's a risk he'll find out from me."

Dumbledore nodded, with what looked like regret, "I am afraid, Harry, that I must ask once more that you trust my judgement in these matters. And I would appreciate, also, if you would tell me any more information that you may gather from these... visions."

Harry frowned, "You want me to try to spy on Voldemort, through this... this connection?" he asked, still just as offended by the very idea as he had been when Jack had suggested it.

"It would benefit the wizarding world as a whole, if you would."

Harry scowled at this. He vividly remembered the snake incident, saving Arthur Weasley's life because of one of these visions. He was sure from Dumbledore's reaction, that what he had just told him, about Rookwood and Bode, would be of value to the Order. Still, the idea of deliberately trying to get inside Voldemort's mind... made him sick just to consider it.

"There is a saying, Harry, and I often disagree, however given the circumstances... there are times when, as they say, 'the end justifies the means'."

Harry all but glared, resentful of the pressure being placed on him as much as of the suggestion, now. Still, it _did_ seem like the only option. "I can try." he said slowly, "But I have a condition."

Dumbledore was clearly shocked by this suddenly turnabout, "And that would be?"

"There's things you can't tell me, in case Voldemort can read my mind, right?" Dumbledore nodded, and Harry continued, "Then tell my friends. Ron and Hermione, I tell them everything anyway. And Jack, as well." He saw Dumbledore open his mouth to protest, and hurried to explain, "He's a good person, Professor, and I trust him. Tell them parts of it, what you can't afford to tell me, so they can help guide me, because you're not always here."

He was thinking of all the times he'd found himself relying only on his friends. Going after the Philosopher's Stone in first year. Figuring out the Chamber of Secrets in his second year. Dumbledore had been entirely absent from the castle both times. The help Jack had given him in the maze, and the graveyard... the moral support afterwards. Dumbledore hadn't been there for that.

And he was sure there would be other times when it was life-or-death and he wouldn't have the chance to go running off to the Headmaster's office to ask what he ought to do.

Dumbledore had been watching him, gazing into his eyes intently, as if reading these very thoughts. Then he nodded slowly, conceding the point, "As you wish, Harry. I shall inform Miss Granger, and Messrs Weasley and Harkness, of anything you ought to know but cannot afford be told."

Harry nodded slowly, smiling weakly, "And I'll tell you anything I see through Voldemort's eyes."

He didn't meet Dumbledore's eyes as he made that promise, nor did he promise to _try_ to see any such thing ever again. He still wasn't sure he wanted to... but he was just as sure that eventually he wouldn't have much of a choice.

Time passed, and Harry did experience several more- though much less informative- visions through Voldemort's mind. It seemed as if every time he dreamed now, he saw either these, or that mysterious corridor. He was visiting the headmaster's office at least once a week with new information that he hadn't even meant to glean about Voldemort. Little things, trivial insights, which even Dumbledore seemed uninterested in and- dare he think it, disappointed with.

It never occurred to Harry, however, to mention the corridor on any of these occasions.

x x x

Meanwhile, an interview with Harry Potter appeared in The Quibbler. Tosh, being the only one of the Torchwood team with any newspaper subscriptions at all, was the one to announce it to the others.

'_THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN_'

"First Malfoy, now Skeeter? Using their evil powers for the greater good." Owen sniped cheerfully, as he read over Tosh's shoulder, "Has hell frozen over lately?"

Ianto snorted, "I can think of more shocking things."

"Like...?" Owen wheedled.

Ianto hesitated for a moment, as if he really hadn't planned on voicing what he thought there, before shrugging and suggesting, "You laying off the sarcasm for five minutes."

Owen flipped him off, then turned on Jack, "Hey, what's with these 'private study sessions' you've been having with Potter, anyway?"

Gwen also suddenly sat up straighter, alert and eager to hear this information. Tosh blinked, only mildly surprised. She looked around at the others, then shrugged and resumed reading the article. Of course, her ears were still perked for the rest of this minor interrogation. Ianto just rolled his eyes, knowing the answer perfectly well, though equally knowing of why Owen was asking. The turn of phrase sounded worse than it was.

"Telepathic defences. You got a problem with that, Owen?" Jack asked, frowning at him.

"Just curious." Owen said a bit defensively.

"Gryffindor." Jack sniped, almost grinning. It was common knowledge, as far as Ianto could tell, that Slytherin house had long ago taken the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat' and applied it to their rival house and its feline mascot.

"What else have you been hiding from us, huh?" Owen persisted.

"No more than usual." Jack said coldly, "And nothing you need to know."

Owen folded his arms and sulked back into his chair, glowering.

Gwen slumped over the table in front of her, and Tosh's eyes started tracking the page again. So much for ever getting Jack to reveal what misdeeds he was up to unless he wanted your help with them. And sometimes even then.

x x x

Trelawney was gone.

Well, not _gone_, she was still living in the castle, but she was no longer teaching. Divination class was now being taught by a Centaur. The entire Torchwood team were shocked when it was Ianto, and not Owen, who came up with the rude remarks related to that one.

It was, in their collective opinion, very unusual for Torchwood to miss something interesting happening, but they had been in the library doing charms homework when she had been- apparently very dramatically- fired.

Now Ianto was trying very hard not to laugh as their new teacher explained their lesson plan.

"What's so funny, teaboy?" Owen asked him.

Ianto shook his head and promptly restored his mask of indifference. Still, it was clear that he found something about the Centaur, Firenze, utterly hilarious.

"You know, if you look at him from the waist up, he's pretty fit." Gwen pointed out, nodding in Firenze's direction, "I heard some of the fifth year girls positively _swooning_ over him, earlier."

Ianto snorted.

"Alright, sod this." Owen lunged at Ianto, brandishing The Fork, "Tell us what's so funny, or I get creative with this thing."

Ianto stifled another snort, positively flushed with the effort of not bursting out laughing his head off, "I just... remember hearing some, ah, insinuations about Centaurs, that's all."

Jack stared blankly as all eyes turned to him, "Don't look at me!"

"It was when He-Who-We-Don't-Name-In-Front-Of-Jack visited." Ianto elaborated vaguely.

Slowly they all nodded, with a drawn out, "Ahhhh." from Gwen. They all knew that this meant John Hart, and the only reason he wasn't named was because it annoyed Jack, nothing more.

Jack, for his part, just rolled his eyes, "Sounds just like him."

"God, imagine the pillow talk." Owen grumbled, surreptitiously shooting a glance at Firenze.

"The moon is in the seventh house, and Jupiter aligns with Mars." Gwen muttered under her breath.

They all burst out laughing, and thus earned themselves a detention with Filch.

x x x

"There's a rumour going around that Harry Potter is Dumbledore's sex-slave." Owen announced bluntly one misty April afternoon, as the team crossed the courtyard on their way to Divination and Ancient Runes classes, "Potter's not impressed."

"I seriously doubt Dumbledore's the type to endorse slavery." Jack said idly, "The wannabe Death Eaters probably made that one up to spite my suggestion of their own initiation rituals, anyway."

Tosh rolled her eyes, trying not to smile at Owen's lack of tact. The subject he was being adorably tactless about really wasn't funny. She patted him condescendingly on the shoulder, and then waved goodbye as she peeled away from the group to head off to her separate class.

Owen snorted, "What about the implicit suggestion that he likes young boys?"

Jack said nothing, simply shrugged.

"You're a sick and twisted git, Harkness. Y'know that, don't you?" Ron Weasley asked, as he shoved past the group of third-years.

"Proud of it, Weasley!" Jack called after the Gryffindor trio, while Harry skulked between his two friends, trying to pretend not to be there.

"You know..." Gwen said with uncertainty, "The Death Eaters can just claim they're not Death Eaters, even if anyone really believed your joke, Jack. This sort of rumour can't be good for Harry."

"More damaging to Dumbledore, I'd have thought. If anyone is stupid enough to believe it." Owen snorted, "Harry just gets humiliated, teachers get fired for that shit, even without evidence."

"The Muggle world seems to be a lot less... close-knit." Jack observed, not quite as sure of himself as he would have liked to sound, "It's easier to think the worst of someone if you don't know them that well. Everyone in the wizarding world knows Dumbledore, by reputation at least."

"Owen has a point, though." Gwen put in, "It could be the excuse _she's_ been looking for."

"Then we need to make Umbridge deaf and blind." Ianto said, watching Harry with a faint frown, "Make an excuse to Firenze for me, Jack?"

Jack nodded slowly, and Ianto ran off after the Gryffindor trio.

"Now what's he up it?" Owen asked, scowling.

x x x

Ianto caught up with Harry on the second floor, just starting up the stairs to the third. Harry was still flanked by Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and when they noticed him running up to them Ron actually drew his wand and stepped between Ianto and Harry.

"Just piss off, okay, Jones?" Ron snapped defensively, "We don't need any more smart-arse remarks right now."

Ianto bit back the first retort that came to mind. Ron just had to say the word 'arse', didn't he? It was almost painful not to retaliate, really. Instead he answered coolly, "Well it's a good thing for all of us that Owen's not here, then, isn't it?" He leaned a little to one side so he could see the other two behind Ron, "I just wanted to talk to Harry." he said in a plaintive tone, looking right at the boy in question... before shooting a sideways look at Ron and adding, "That is if his personal security entourage will allow it?"

Ron glowered, but reluctantly lowered his wand and looked back at Harry.

After all three of them exchanged the sort of looks of silent communication that took years of real friendship to manage, Harry finally nodded to Ianto. "Okay."

"Alone?" Ianto asked.

"You're pushing it, mate." Ron warned.

"Jack sent you, didn't he?" Harry asked, taking two steps down the stairs so he was now on the same level as Ron.

"No, but he probably would have if he'd thought of it." Ianto shrugged.

Harry tried not to laugh, and just about managed to hide it, "Alright, then."

"But Harry, you'll miss History of Magic!" Hermione protested.

Harry looked up at her blankly, and asked, "So?"

"So... our O.W.L.s are in two months, we need to study."

Harry shook his head, "I always learn more on homework in that class, anyway. I'll catch you up later." He waved both his friends off, stepping right past Ron, now, and down onto the level ground upon which Ianto stood. He was still a bit taller than Ianto, which really was annoying for the older-but-deaged Welshman... especially when they had been evenly matched the previous year when Jack had faced off with him in the Tournament.

Ianto watched Ron and Hermione until they decided, with various degrees of reluctance and disapproval, to hurry on up the stairs to their class. Then he quickly glanced around and led Harry off to one side, into a quieter corridor. "About this rumour..."

"No, I really don't want to hear it." Harry said, stopping in his tracks and holding both hands up, "It's not true, and if I hear one more Slytherin ask me if I-"

"No!" Ianto interrupted very sharply. "So not what I meant!" He really didn't want to hear what the rest of the house that Jack Harkness got sorted into had to say about such a concept. He really _really_ didn't.

Harry folded his arms defensively, "Then what?"

"How many people have heard?"

Harry pulled a face, deeply offended by the entire thing, "Probably the whole school, by now."

Ianto frowned, letting out a deep sigh as he contemplated the situation. If everyone knew, then damage control was going to be hell... if it was even possible.

"Why?" Harry asked warily. He wasn't quite so defensive now, but still understandably upset by the topic of conversation.

"I really don't know about the wizarding world, because we're such a small community, it's honestly unprecedented." he explained carefully, "But in Muggle schools, just the rumour is enough to entirely destroy a teacher. They'd be fired, disgraced, and never allowed anywhere within a mile of children ever again. Even if it _is_ immediately and unequivocally disproved, nobody would ever quite be able to let it go."

Harry stared at him, shocked as if he hadn't thought of this, "So you're worried about Dumbledore, not me?"

Ianto shrugged, "It's a blatant lie, you're obviously not a victim- well not of _that_, at least- and Umbridge has just been waiting with baited breath for any opportunity to get rid of him."

"She can't!" Harry protested, horrified.

"Unfortunately, she not only can, but if she did she would be hailed a hero by anyone with even an ounce of gullibility. It only takes the least suggestion of this kind of crime to set people off, and with the papers and the Ministry on her side..."

Harry shook his head, trying to deny the obvious truth. "There has to be something!" He honestly seemed more horrified at this thought than at the fact he had been the subject of the rumour in the first place.

"I had hoped we caught it early." Ianto said, with a shrug, "But if everyone knows, it's only a matter of time."

"What about the Fidelius Charm? Stop people from being able to even mention it?" Harry asked desperately.

Ianto winced, "Sorry. It would be possible if the rumour was true." Harry cringed at that, and Ianto frowned slightly. He really had worded it quite tactlessly, even if it was the truth of the matter, "The subject of the Secret has to supply written consent to conceal it, if it were true, you could provide that component of the spell... but as it is, only the person who came up with the rumour could allow it to be hidden." he gave Harry an apologetic look, "And my money's on _that_ being Yaxley."

Harry looked quite confused, "Why Yaxley?"

"He seems to be the ringleader of the wannabe Death Eaters." Ianto explained, "Oh, Malfoy's still their figurehead, if only for lack of denying it, but Yaxley's the one who really _wants_ it."

Harry shook his head, and sulked, "There's got to be something we can do?"

"If we could stop her finding out about it, maybe." Ianto admitted, with uncertainty. How on Earth could you stop students from gossiping within earshot of their teachers or parents... especially about a secret that wasn't their own? "But publicly denying it would only alert the wrong people to the fact that it was ever suggested."

Harry suddenly looked at Ianto, with a too calculating glint in his eyes, "How do you know it's not true, anyway? Most people are just assuming-"

"Jack told you he's older than he looks." This was not a question. He knew Jack had told Harry about it, and he really didn't feel like wasting time. "Well so am I. My father's a Squib, that much is true, but before I was de-aged and sent here I went to a Muggle school... and one of our teachers really did... take advantage of some of his students."

Harry winced, "Wow... never really believe this stuff, until you hear it from someone you know."

Ianto smiled, a dark and crooked expression that was about as far away from any positive emotion- besides morbid humour- as you can get, "The stories flying around the school were just as bad as here. I'm sure the lewd suggestions the Slytherins have been spouting don't even come close. I recognise the fact you're not a victim because I knew the two boys in my school who were. Of course the stories said there were five."

Harry frowned, "You say that like..."

"I was one of the five. Yes. I ended up getting expelled for beating up one of my classmates... just because I permanently blinded him in one eye. He seemed to think that repeated public and graphic announcements of what he assumed happened were all in good fun. I disagreed."

"You sound proud of that." Harry asked warily.

"Never piss me off." Ianto said with a dark grin.

Harry laughed nervously. "Right. Well. Er... Crabbe and Goyle have been saying the worst things... if you, y'know, wanted someone to permanently disfigure?"

Ianto laughed- really laughed- as well, "I'll see what I can do... but honestly, there's not much left to disfigure about those two that generations of inbreeding haven't already."

It took a few minutes for both of them to stop laughing at the expense of the dumbest students Hogwarts had to offer... but eventually- far too quickly- the reality of the situation seeped back into their minds, and killed the humour of it.

Harry was the first to break the awkward silence that followed, "But seriously... Umbridge?" he asked, "How do we stop her from finding out?"

"Hem hem."

Both boys froze, and slowly as one they turned to see Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge standing in the corridor behind Harry, with a clipboard under one arm and a far too smug look on her toad-like face.

"The correct form of address, Mr Potter, is _Professor_ Umbridge." the woman informed him in that saccharine tone of voice she had that always made Ianto want to taser her in the throat. "Although I dare say I ought to forgive any lapse in etiquette for the time being, given the circumstances."

"Damn." Ianto muttered under his breath. She knew. While it wasn't the only explanation, it was both the most likely and the cruellest.

"Five points from Hufflepuff, Mr Jones." she chirruped brightly. Taser... bullet... dagger... fork. Anything. In the throat. Silence the bitch.

He blinked back the hatred, and bowed his head to show an acceptable illusion of obedience and apology.

"Now." she said briskly, "I think you both deserve a detention, don't you?"

"What for?" Harry demanded.

"Attempting to conceal a terrible crime from the Ministry." Umbridge cheered. She was _enjoying_ this. "Why, I dare say you shall both be scrubbing bedpans for Madam Pomfrey. In the meantime, of course, action has already been taken to ensure your future safety, Mr Potter."

Harry opened his mouth to speak. No doubt to argue, to deny it all, and rightly so, but Umbridge spoke too quickly over him.

"A team of Aurors are dealing with Albus Dumbledore as we speak, and the Ministry has assigned you a counsellor to help you through this difficult time."

"A- a _what?_" Harry asked, shocked.

"A counsellor." Umbridge chirped too-helpfully, "She will see you tomorrow morning, in my old office. I don't believe I shall be needing it any longer." The smugness made it clear that she expected to earn herself a nice little promotion to Headmistress out of this coup.

Harry was practically paralysed with rage and shock. Ianto was expending all his energy in the monumental task of willing himself not to curse her dead on the spot.

There was no option to argue, and of course she wouldn't listen if they had tried.

"Remember boys, detention tonight, at nine o'clock."

x x x


	65. The Demon Headmistress

x x x

**Chapter 65: The Demon Headmistress**

x x x

The Order of the Phoenix was hosting an emergency meeting.

"At least the Prophet and that dreadful Skeeter woman never sank to _this!_" Molly Weasley cried in outrage, "How dare they!"

"You assume it's impossible, then?" Severus asked darkly, "For all we know-"

"Don't you bloody dare, Snivellus!" Sirius snapped, "We all know it's utter bullshit! Probably one of your precious Slytherins who started the rumour, and all." Severus tried to stare him down, but he wasn't giving in so easily.

"You of all people should know that the wizarding world is far from perfect, Black." Severus said, coldly calculating, "Remember your uncle Cygnus?"

"Thankfully, no. I never met him in person." Sirius sniped, glowering, "And this is completely different, anyway. We _know_ this can't be true."

"How do we know?" Severus asked slyly.

"I don't see the point of sewing doubt in our allies, at this stage, Severus." Remus said coldly, "Whether you choose to believe it or not, both Harry and Dumbledore are still our best hope in defeat Voldemort, and we cannot afford to fall prey to a mob mentality when nothing has been proven."

Severus gave Remus a calculating sidelong look, "Really, Remus?" he asked in a sceptical tone that made it clear he thought Remus of all people would take his side, though why was beyond anyone else's comprehension. Except Sirius. Sirius understood, and he was glowering bloody murder at Snape.

"If I were you, Severus." Remus replied calmly, "I would not voice what you are thinking, lest I tell more of your own past than is comfortable in return. We all have our terrible secrets, but I am quite sure this sensationalist story is not truly one of Dumbledore's."

"Of course it's not!" Molly declared with conviction, "I can't believe they really printed this... this filth!"

"Perhaps we should ask Harry?" Tonks suggested hopefully, "The Quibbler story about Voldemort worked well, he could do the same for this?"

"Right, a journalist like _Skeeter_ is going to be happy to report 'nothing happened, everything is fine'?" Sirius grumbled.

"She seemed quite compliant, before." Tonks said slyly, "More so than would be expected without duress, from what I could tell. I reckon Hermione Granger has something on her."

"Wish I knew what." Sirius sulked, shrugging, "Worth a try, I guess."

"There is another option." Severus said carefully, "Highly illegal, of course, but I have been considering it with regards to the return of the Dark Lord for some time. A Clarity Concoction."

Everyone turned to stare at him, shocked. "How-?" Tonks asked, awed, while Molly gasped in horror.

"It is quite simple to create, the problem- and the illegality- would be in its distribution." Severus said coolly, smug at the stares he was receiving, "A Clarity Concoction will open people's minds to the truth, and _only_ the truth. It was originally designed to help the drinker see through lies. If they hear an honest denial of this... story... they will recognise it for what it is, just as if they heard the honest declaration that the Dark Lord has returned, they would accept that as well."

"It's only safe to brew in small doses, though." Sirius pointed out, "You'd need gallons of it to get everyone, and even then..."

"I do believe I am up to that task." Severus said, smirking darkly, "I am the Potions Master of Hogwarts, after all."

Everyone caught on pretty quickly to that, "Get the kids to brew it, eh?" Sirius said, grinning. He leaned back in his chair, almost defensively, "Sod off, Snivellus, I hate respecting you."

Severus simply sneered at him.

"Still can't make everyone drink it, though... can you?" Tonks asked, frowning.

"To that, I most regrettably have no solution." Severus admitted.

x x x

"This sucks." Harry grumbled, leaning on the table and glaring at the now sparkling clean bedpan. He was eternally grateful that their work tonight involved cleaning up the honestly less disgusting slime that Peeves had thrown around the Hospital Wing store room, rather than _used_ bedpans.

"Pick your words. I've started cursing Owen when he swears too... appropriately." Ianto said idly, working away in perfectly reserved calm, as if this really wasn't a significant chore at all.

Harry thought very carefully about what he had said. 'This sucks'. "Why's that bad?" he asked blankly.

Ianto snorted, and hid his face behind a row of shelves as he laughed. "Your tormentors today must not have been as detailed as you think."

Harry still didn't get it... and now he really didn't want to.

After a few minutes working in silence- during which Harry sulked as dramatically as he could without interfering with actual work he had to do- Ianto finally spoke up again, "Sorry for getting you stuck in detention tonight."

Harry shrugged, "Might be better than the common room right now. The twins calling me Heir of Slytherin was funny. This... I don't think I want to know what they'd do... or worse, _say_."

"If it's any consolation, Owen is making Veritaserum... and I am very good at spiking people's drinks with hazardous chemicals."

Harry grinned at that thought, "I think I'm starting to understand why Snape likes poisons so much."

"They have their uses." Ianto agreed, very matter-of-factly.

A few more minutes of silence passed, before, "What would you do in my position?" Harry asked suddenly, looking up at the Hufflepuff boy.

Ianto frowned, "Well first I wouldn't set that on top of the potions' bottles." Harry quickly picked up the bedpan he had been cleaning, and set it down on a more stable surface, namely a convenient bedside table. "Honestly, though, I'm not sure." Ianto shrugged, "Laugh at them and say 'he should be so lucky'. That's probably what Jack would do."

Harry stifled a shocked splutter at that suggestion, "Well... that's Jack, isn't it?"

Ianto was watching him a bit too carefully, now, "And you're Harry Potter. What do you want to be known for doing when people turn on you? You can only pretend to ignore it for so long."

Harry frowned. He had been fighting back against Umbridge, the Ministry, and the Daily Prophet, all year. It certainly did feel better than just ignoring the barbs as he had done in second year. This was just one more- particularly vicious- obstacle to overcome. "You're right." he said with a curt nod, standing up a bit straighter, with some degree of confidence, "We'll figure out a way to set things right."

"We?" Ianto asked sceptically.

Harry smiled faintly, "You just said, I'm Harry Potter. Not the Boy-Who-Lived, just Harry. And I always do things better with my friends to back me up."

Almost as if saying that was a cue of some kind, a flash of flames in the middle of the room heralded the arrival of a familiar and brilliant bird.

"Fawkes?" Harry asked, surprised. Ianto stepped out from behind the shelves where he had been working, staring at the phoenix with awe.

"That's...?"

"A phoenix." Harry said, noticing a letter clasped in the spectacular bird's talons. "Dumbledore must have sent him."

Fawkes responded to these words by carefully dropped the letter on a table in front of Harry. He then let out a beautiful low warble of song, turned to swoop around past both of them, and in a second flare of golden flames he was gone once more.

Ianto was still staring at where the phoenix had been, "That was... impressive." he whispered.

Harry just grinned, and opened the letter carefully.

"What's it say?" Ianto asked, in the tone of one very suddenly snapping back to reality.

"Er..." Harry read it over, then quoted it word-for-word, "_'Always remember, Harry; believe in your friends, but do not forget your other allies.'_"

"Other allies?"

"I guess he means the Order?" Harry suggested weakly.

Ianto shrugged, "This is Dumbledore we're talking about. Since when has he been that obvious? It's probably something more obscure, specific and important than that."

They were prevented from debating this further, by the sound of approaching footsteps. Harry quickly pocketed the note and they both resumed working.

x x x

"Why do I get the feeling you had something to do with this?"

Jack had been on his way to breakfast the next morning, when Snape's voice stopped him in his tracks. They were alone in the dungeon corridor, Jack was always early and the rest of his house was probably still asleep.

He turned slowly to look at Snape, "Probably because it's true." he said, scowling. He didn't feel like arguing about it when he was still trying, even as they spoke, to think of a way to fix the situation. "I started the rumour about the Death Eaters, and I think I know which one started this in retaliation."

Snape looked sceptical at this, "Is that so?"

"Unlike my current enemy, I don't think it would be right to throw accusations around without evidence." Jack said pointedly. Snape looked honestly disappointed at this lack of information.

He recovered his ominous composure quite quickly, however, "I think that you ought to make amends for this... situation, Mr Harkness."

"Believe me, I've been trying to think of something-" Jack started, but Snape cut across him sharply.

"Might I suggest." he said with all the dangerous authority that commanded this suggestion be taken as an outright order, "That you, and your... ingenious little friends, attempt to solve this, by way of reconciliation?"

He handed Jack a very small, tightly sealed roll of parchment. Jack warily accepted it, looking down at it with curiosity. It didn't give anything away that might tell him what was written inside. "Yes, Professor." he said in a vague and unimpressive impersonation of meekness, "Of course."

x x x

Harry was extremely uncomfortable with the very idea of seeing a counsellor. Of course, he didn't have a choice. Umbridge would have a field day if he stepped out of line again.

She had, of course, managed to get herself appointed as the new Headmistress of the school. Oddly, Harry had heard people in the corridors saying the strangest things about her.

"The Headmistress is a marvellous person and this is the best school I've ever been to." in the most monotone, honestly brainwashed, voices they could manage. He might really have believed she hypnotised them, if one group of girls hadn't burst into hysterical and mocking giggles two seconds after saying it.

It had to be another one of Owen Harper's plots. Harry did not want to know.

The list of things he didn't want to know was growing exponentially, and seemed to originate from that group of third years. He knew Jack's joke against the Death Eaters was the reason they had retaliated with this vicious lie. One thing he _did_ want to know was if Jack felt at all responsible or sorry for his part in it.

Harry sighed reluctantly, as he arrived at the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom, and crossed the room to the office at the back. He dreaded to think who Umbridge might have called in to torment him further. Rita Skeeter, perhaps? He wouldn't put that past either woman.

He knocked nervously on the door, and an unfamiliar, rather austere female voice called back, "Enter."

Harry warily entered the room, not looking at the desk and the woman behind it, until he had wasted as much time as he could on closing the door. The borrowed seconds really didn't make him feel any better at all.

Then he looked up at his 'counsellor'.

And wished he hadn't. He wasn't sure if it was just fate mocking him, or if Umbridge had carefully researched his enemies list to find the person he was least likely to appreciate speaking to- especially about _this_. He'd bet Umbridge had done her homework with this one.

Narcissa Malfoy sat behind the desk, looking perfectly prim and proper. Not even a hair on her head out of place. She looked quite tense, herself, like one of those aristocratic types who may as well have a steel rod up their spine, as she gestured smoothly to the chair opposite the desk. "Please, Mr Potter. Do sit down."

Harry half-sulked, half-glowered, as he obeyed this instruction.

Narcissa waited for a few second, then rather sharply drew her wand and tapped it on the table. Three small explosions of sparks erupted from around the room. She put her wand away as if that was perfectly normal and nothing worth worrying about. "There, now. We can speak privately."

Harry gave her a blank look for this, and she raised an eyebrow at him for it.

"While I am here at the request of Dolores Umbridge, I will not have her listening in on what should be a private conversation."

"You mean she-"

"Was spying on us, yes." Narcissa nodded, "My, you are naive, if you think that woman wouldn't want every scrap of evidence she could possibly use to condemn you, Mr Potter. I agreed to this meeting to _help_, not to play her little power games."

"Why you?" Harry asked, scowling.

"Dolores chose me, because she believed I would assist in her plans. I failed to disillusion her of that assumption." Narcissa said quite bluntly, a faint, dark smile flickering briefly across her lips as she said that. But it didn't last, and she once again became- or might well have been all along- perfectly serious, "As for why I agreed to her terms, Mr Potter... well, I truly do wish to help you come to terms with what has happened here."

"Nothing happened." Harry said flatly, but with emphasis.

Narcissa sighed, sitting back in her chair and running a hand lightly over her eyes, seeming a bit too careful not to touch her makeup, "Teenagers." she muttered, before looking back at him, "Would it help if I let go of the professional attitude?"

"Yes, that would help." Harry said with a nod, gritting his teeth as he said it. Just because she didn't appear to be on Umbridge's side- and she could be lying about that- didn't mean Harry had to like talking to her about this, "But it doesn't change the fact that nothing happened."

Narcissa leaned forward once more, somehow retaining her perfect poise even as she leaned her hands on the desk to try to close the distance she had to speak across. It was probably meant to be a kind gesture, it really did look like it, but Harry chose to interpret it as domineering, "Look, I understand why you would feel uncomfortable talking about this, but we all know-"

"We all know that a bunch of Slytherins have been spreading rumours!" Harry snapped, "That's all!"

"Now, Harry-" she began, remarkably calm considering the way he had just talked back to her, "May I call you Harry?" Harry sulked for a second, then shrugged. "I understand, denial is a normal part of dealing with a traumatic event."

"It's also a valid reaction when nothing happened." Harry grumbled, "You're just not going to believe me, are you?"

"I'm only trying to help." Narcissa said gently. She honestly sounded like she cared.

"Really?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Really."

Harry sat forward, now, as well, "Well if you really want to help, then do something about Umbridge. She heard a vicious rumour and sicced a bunch of Aurors on an innocent man just to steal his job."

Narcissa raised one eyebrow delicately, "You do believe that, don't you?" she asked thoughtfully, "You're not a victim, are you?"

"You're not the first person to say that." Harry frowned, "Like you know what you're talking about."

Narcissa sat back briskly, "Well, I have been a counsellor for several years." she said a little bit too quickly. "One has to learn to recognise such things, in this line of work."

Harry blinked a few times, realising this was _not_ a subject to be pressed, so he backed down and changed the subject back to the current problem, "You know, this is really Umbridge's fault."

"I have little doubt." Narcissa said, frowning slightly, "Unfortunately, I have no power to confront her at this time."

"But at least you won't ask me awkward, probing questions about something that never happened, and that I never ever wanted to think about, right?"

Narcissa smiled faintly, almost wickedly, as if she had just thought of something entirely underhandedly Slytherin, but still somehow good at the same time, "Then what else should we talk about? Politics?"

"If you mean plotting against Umbridge...?"

"Who isn't?" Narcissa asked, with cruel delight.

"Voldemort?" Harry suggested jokingly. Narcissa flinched, shook her head and tried not to laugh in spite of her horror at hearing the name.

Harry took this to mean, either she was a very girly-girl at heart and just found it hilarious... or much more likely, she knew damned well that Voldemort _was_ plotting against Umbridge as well.

x x x

"I don't get it, what are these things?" Warrington demanded, holding the object in question up in front of him, between his fingertips, as if he thought it was somehow hazardous.

It was, in fact, a beret. A very nicely made green beret, with a silver band and the Slytherin house logo on it, but other than that it closely resembled a more Muggle military kind of look. UNIT would have been jealous of the craftsmanship, and Jack honestly wondered where the hell Ianto had acquired these things. He wouldn't even rule out Transfiguration.

"They're hats." Jack said flatly, "They're part of the Inquisitorial Squad uniforms. Umbridge asked us to make sure everybody had one."

This was, of course, not true. The 'Inquisitorial Squad', which Umbridge had created as a sort of militia to further the cause of her own evildoings, didn't have a uniform per se. No, this was purely to make them look bad, and to confuse Umbridge herself.

"She asked _you?_" Pansy Parkinson asked derisively.

"Yes, she did." Draco lied cheerfully, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "I was there. She also, for some reason, didn't think I should wear one. Undercover, or something. Isn't that right, Jack?"

"Right." Jack said, giving him a sideways smirk. Draco had not been in on this, but he did seem quite good at improvising when he wanted to. "The hats are part of the uniform, and there's also a protocol involved."

"Yes, you have to salute." Ianto said in his perfect deadpan.

Draco didn't miss a beat, simply and cheerfully agreeing, "Yep."

"Like this." Jack stood sharply to attention, and mimicked the simplest military standard of a salute.

Pansy sneered in disgust, "I will not wear this!"

"Aww, but I think it'd look good on you, Pans'." Draco whined. Jack and Ianto exchanged a Look, but said nothing.

Pansy pouted.

"Please?" Draco wheedled.

And Pansy crumbled, "Aww, alright, Drakikins."

Ianto's hand flew to his mouth to avoid laughing out loud, both at the nickname and the way the girl swooned and fawned over Draco. He actually had to bite his hand.

Jack, on the other hand, was much less subtle, just grinning at the two and suggesting, "Oh, get a room!"

Pansy glowered bloody murder at Jack, while Draco laughed and placed one of the specially made berets on her head, "You look lovely, Pansy." he said in a placating tone.

"You have to salute when you see Umbridge, and whenever she dismisses you." Jack explained, now that Pansy had been placated, and was wearing the honestly cute Slytherin beret. "It's real simple, just line up here, and copy me."

He stood facing them, and saluted again to demonstrate.

All but two of the Inquisitorial Squad mimicked him perfectly. Crabbe and Goyle used their left hand instead of their right. Jack gave them both sceptical looks, "We are not looking in a mirror, boys. Use your right hand."

They both stared cluelessly at their hands.

"Your wand hand?" Jack suggested. Goyle held up his left hand, while Crabbe held up his right. Jack rolled his eyes, and sighed in exasperation.

"Hold your hands out in front of you." Ianto commanded, "Palms down, thumbs out." They obeyed, confused. "Now which one looks like a capital 'L'?"

Both held up their left hands. So they aren't completely illiterate, that was something at least.

"That's your left hand. You salute with your right." Ianto explained, in a patient tone.

Jack gave him a bemused and wondering look, as if this way of explaining it was both entirely new to him, and completely brilliant. Then he took command again, "Alright, everybody salute again."

They all got it right this time. "And when are we meant to do this?" Jack asked, looking specifically to the dumbest two of the class.

"Whenever Umbridge approaches us, or tells us to leave." Goyle answered, sounding uncertain.

But Jack smiled brightly, "Correct."

Umbridge's reaction to this over the next few weeks as utterly priceless.

x x x

"What's this?" Seamus Finnegan asked, eyeing the notice board in the D.A. room. Everyone was gathered early for that Monday night's meeting, and Tosh and Ianto had just pinned up a list.

"There are precisely four still living sex offenders registered in the wizarding world." Tosh said, giving Jack a sideways smirk, "That's how small we are compared to the rest of Britain." she turned her attention back to Seamus, "Of course... these are just the ones who have been accused and committed in a court of law."

Seamus leaned closer to the notice, reading aloud, "Fenrir Greyback, yeah, everybody knows about him. Antonin Dolohov?"

"Part of a very long list of offences against prisoners of war, about fourteen years ago." Ianto put in helpfully, if a bit pointed in his obvious insinuation of precisely what war he was talking about. "He was one of the ten who escaped earlier this year."

"Sirius Black?" Seamus asked, a bit more dubiously, as he read the fourth name on the list. The entire D.A. knew and even believed that Sirius was innocent, after Harry's introductory speech to their Patronus lessons.

"Lewd behaviour and indecent exposure during an official ministry event, when he was nineteen." Jack put in brightly, "Nothing I wouldn't do myself, given the right motivation."

"Aberforth Dumbledore?" Seamus asked again, "That's the headmaster's brother, ain't it?" Even though Umbridge had ousted Dumbledore, and laid claim to the title herself, he still worded it that way. An admirable show of loyalty.

"Goats." Jack said bluntly, "That... I wouldn't do."

"Apparently, he charmed them to be able to talk, and claimed that they consented." Ianto said with bemusement.

"Just... no." Jack said, shaking his head and trying not to laugh.

"Is there a reason this is here, then?" Seamus asked, backing off from the list a bit, "Because it's downright creepy that you went and researched it, otherwise."

"It's proof that we're living in a more repressed and overly moral society than the rest of the country." Tosh explained, to all gathered there, "It's also why you were all told to show up early."

"By now we've all heard the rumours about Dumbledore and Harry." Gwen announced clearly, "Show of hands, who believes a damned word of it?"

People exchanged looks warily, and eventually Zacharias Smith spoke up, "Well there's no proof either way, is there?"

"Don't be stupid, Zach." Susan Bones chided, "Of course it's not true. As if we'd still be here if we thought it was, either."

"And we're _all_ here." Owen said, grinning.

"So why the list?" Seamus repeated.

"Four is a very small number." Tosh explained, "Two of those named are complete monsters anyway. Sirius Black just streaked a World Quidditch match, and... well."

"Goats." Ianto repeated, trying not to laugh.

"I should set him up with Archie." Jack said thoughtfully, "They're perfect for each other."

"Oh god, I don't want to know." Owen cried, covering his face and miming vomiting.

"The point is-" Tosh said sharply, trying to glare rather than grin at the boys' antics, "-that this society is either honestly more moral-"

"Bullshit, we've got Death Eaters in a quarter of the school!" Michael Corner shouted out.

"Hey!" Jack cried indignantly, being a part of the 'quarter of the school' the Ravenclaw boy was referring to.

"-_or_-" Tosh emphasised, "-we're more repressed about it. Either this is as good as unheard of, or public announcements of such things are just unseemly. Either way, we must realise that everyone will at least have a volatile reaction to the rumours. Whether that's the obvious and accurate denial, or to damn him without evidence."

"Damning without evidence has been popular in the past, for other crimes." Ianto pointed out.

"We need a way to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Albus Dumbledore is innocent." Jack announced.

Uncertain murmuring broke out around the room, and Tosh turned back to the rest of the team, a bit unsure of how to react. Jack gave her an encouraging nod, and Owen a thumbs up. She straightened up with the reassurance, and turned back to the assembled students.

"We have half a plan." she said clearly, "It just needs a bit of work, that's all."

x x x

Kreacher had a problem.

Mistress's orders were clear and simple. Prevent the traitor from communicating with the Potter brat.

The problem with this was the fact that the traitor has some _FILTHY MUGGLE THING_ that he wore in his ear at all times, and Kreacher KNEW it was allowing him to talk to all sorts of Mudbloods and blood-traitors that were far away. The Potter brat was one of these.

So Kreacher watched and Kreacher calculated and Kreacher plotted.

After weeks of careful deliberation, he came to the only viable conclusion, and simply stole the _THING_ while the traitor slept.

When he presented it to his mistress, she was ecstatic, turning right around and offering the precious gift to the great Dark Lord with both hands, bowing graciously as she did so.

The Dark Lord took the _THING_- The _FILTHY MUGGLE THING_- and examined it with fascination, carefully plucking a stray human hair from it as he did so, before turning to Kreacher and asking coldly, "How does it work?"

x x x


	66. What You Want To Believe

x x x

**Chapter 66: What You Want To Believe**

x x x

Narcissa Malfoy didn't really seem like such a bad person, in Harry's opinion. She was cold and withdrawn, but very polite, and he got the impression she could be quite friendly when she dropped the cold exterior.

Like most Slytherins, however, she wore a mask.

Harry was just beginning to understand this principle. A distinct difference between an individual's inner nature and their outward persona. Jack did it quite a lot, acting out as an extrovert and a bit of a playboy, with a bravado any Gryffindor would be proud of... but there were moments when he would shut down and seem so lonely and tired, when he really seemed so very _old_.

Harry knew Draco Malfoy's persona well enough, he acted like a spiteful little shit, Death Eater wannabe, and all-around not-nice-guy... but the more he thought about what Jack had said about him, the more Harry began to think Draco was just a reverse-Lockhart. Acting out as the villain with just as much dramatic flair as Lockhart had played hero, but deep down there was an ever-increasing chance he might well have a heart that he was determined to hide from the rest of the world.

Narcissa was starting to seem the same. Cold as ice, but only to hide something else. Something he was sure he was better off not knowing, though he did wonder if she was a nice person under that ice. It did seem so, somehow.

The more he thought about it, the more he wondered about who else might be so hard to read. Was it only Slytherins? He had seen Ianto Jones completely change his behaviour in an instant, and was beginning to think that the calm and orderly boy was really a dangerous beast capable of doing terrible things to defend those to whom he was loyal. Hufflepuff was big on loyalty, it was frighteningly possible.

And what about Dumbledore? Jack instantly distrusted him for Legilimency, but if he wasn't the powerful but kind old man he appeared, what could his true nature possibly be?

Even Harry himself seemed to do it, to a certain degree. He tried so hard to be just Harry, but so many people saw him as The Boy Who Lived that it was hard to get past that illusion. Sometimes- like with Skeeter- it was even easier to _use_ the illusion, instead.

He was deeply immersed in this line of thought when he entered the D.A. room. Something he had dreaded doing, but knew must be done. He dreaded the reactions of the others there, and even wondered if they would show up. They had called it _Dumbledore's Army_, after all.

He stopped dead when he saw what was going on, and simply stared in confusion.

Owen Harper was running the show, today. Everyone was working over a small (standard size 1, next to impossible to buy these days) cauldron, taking direct instructions from Owen, who was working from a small roll of parchment. Owen was making the potion as well, and demonstrating each step as he called it out. Everyone was mimicking his work in what seemed to be perfect form.

It was Ron who noticed Harry, and beckoned him quickly over to the table he was working at.

"Did we decide Potions was as bad as Defence class, all of a sudden?" Harry asked, trying to break the tension he felt. A tension that had been made even worse by the fact that nobody else seemed at all uncomfortable with either being here, or with Harry being here. He was downright confused, to be honest.

"Nope, not really." Ron said, "Although I think Harper's a better teacher than Snape, and Neville's actually doing really well, look." Harry glanced at Neville, who was working diligently, with no sign of mistakes made so far or the usual aura of fear he tended to project in Snape's class.

Harry watched, as Owen went through the last steps of the potion, and the entire D.A. followed him perfectly. Harry did not recognise the potion.

"Alright, and we're done." Owen announced gleefully, "I have it on excellent authority that you are now each going to be responsible for bringing about two dozen gullible witches or wizards to their senses. We'll need to keep this up for five more sessions."

"What?" Harry asked Ron in an undertone. Owen, however, heard him.

"We're making a barely legal potion, called a Clarity Concoction." Owen announced, grinning, "Anyone who drinks this potion will instantly accept any truth put to them, recognise it as truth, and therefore almost as clearly recognise a lie, if only for the fact that the potion doesn't effect their perception of it. Nothing can trick this potion, except for Confundus charms, memory charms, or the Fidelius Charm."

Harry's eyes went wide with shock, "So you didn't just all show up... you all showed up _early_... with a _plan?_"

"Yeah, that's just how good we are!" Diggory shouted out, with a grin.

"You taught us well!" Ernie Macmillan agreed.

"Always count on a Hufflepuff." Jack said, grinning as he all but appeared out of thin air at Harry's side, "They're especially good at the practical side of things... like 'acquiring' the ingredients. This potion wasn't as easy as Owen made it for the rest of us."

"You did this?" Harry asked in awe.

"I... suggested it." Jack said, looking away and frowning slightly, "I'm sorry, if it hadn't been for me starting rumours about the Death Eaters, I don't think the other Slytherins would have ever considered retaliating like this."

"It could be worse... they could have heard of Facebook." Gwen put in cheerfully, earning a shushing and an elbow to the ribs from Tosh.

Harry stared blankly, "What's Facebook?"

"Nothing." Jack said, giving Gwen a vaguely bemused 'shut up!' look, "Literally nothing."

Owen's eyes lit up in an unholy way, and he whispered to Tosh. Harry didn't catch all of it, but the last words got rather excited and he just made out, "-would never have happened!" She slapped him on the arm, and shooed him away.

Harry thought it better not to ask.

He shook his head and looked to Jack, "I guess you're forgiven." he said reluctantly. It was the decent thing to do, when someone apologised and tried to fix their mistakes. So long as Jack found a way to make it so nobody got hurt for it in the end, well then Harry might even mean what he just said, too.

x x x

The next few days were dramatically disrupted by what Owen said were called "_'Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs', five Galleons for your 'Basic Blaze Box' and twenty for the 'Deflagration Deluxe'_." So it seemed someone liked their alliteration.

These fantastic devices consisted of a wide variety of highly dangerous magical beasts imitated perfectly (except for the actual danger) in living fireworks that gambolled and frolicked through the school, multiplying whenever you attempted to dispel them.

Owen suggested the twins try to recreate Tribbles next. The looks on said twins faces when Owen explained the nature of Tribbles gave the impression they took this idea to heart.

Time passed more slowly than usual, over the next few weeks.

Between exams looming, the war on Umbridge, and the much colder war between Death Eater wannabes and the D.A., which so far consisted of traded insults about things that Jack Harkness just wouldn't get were insults, everyone was exhausted and on-edge.

The Weasley twins began a dramatic marketing campaign of their non-consumable products, about a week before exams were due to start. You literally could not walk down a corridor without _something_ of theirs zooming past, up down or sideways. Fireworks were the main event, and they seemed to last all week, but there were other things. Little wooden mice on wheels, which scooted around the floor deliberately trying to trip people up. Floating puffs of pink smoke that seemed harmless enough unless you spotted one near Umbridge, upon which they shrieked incessantly and followed her around for an hour. And not a student in the school, with the possible exception of the Inquisitorial Squad, was to be without their Skiving Snackboxes.

It was far more fun than any school any of the team remembered in their lifetimes. Well, any _real_ school, at least. Gwen claimed it was just about as good as St Trinians... a series of movies she was blatantly shocked Jack had never heard of before.

When the exams actually did come, they positively flew by, and every one finished seemed to lighten the weight in the air, allowing everyone to breathe a little bit easier. Even with Umbridge and the Junior Death Eaters still running around.

x x x

"It was just a joke, you know." Avery said quietly, late one night. Much like the rest of the wannabe Death Eaters, he had been adamantly ostracised and ignored by his classmates... thanks in large part to Jack's attitude, and the lack of opposition presented by the most popular Death-Eater-spawn, Draco Malfoy.

Slytherin was wholly divided now, with only about a third of the house taking Umbridge and/or Voldemort's side.

"Bull." Malcolm sniped in the dark.

Jack was sitting up in his own bed, but he couldn't see the others, as all five boys drew their curtains and charmed them shut at night. That had started with Jack's joke about Avery wanting to kill him in his sleep. That one had been taken seriously as well.

"Slytherins don't joke." Thadius Vance said darkly, "We take the truth out of context to hurt you."

Vance was the would-be-Ravenclaw of their class, who usually kept his nose well out of the Voldemort-politics. By virtue of that fact, he tended to keep quiet for the most part, generally only hanging around with the other boy in their year- Alexander Smith- who was ostracised for being half-blood.

Jack kind of had to agree with that, but still, "Where's the truth in it this time, then?"

"He _did_ keep running up to the Headmaster's office all the time." Avery protested, "We just thought it was funny."

"Oh yes." Jack hissed bitterly, "Everything's fun and games until the Demon Headmistress finds out. Maybe I should tell her you wet the bed, and see what happens?"

"I do _not_ wet the bloody bed!" Avery cried.

"You know that. I... will take your word on that. The rest of the school doesn't know that yet. You see the problem here?"

"Just... didn't mean it to go that far." Avery mumbled.

"Thought you hated Dumbledore?" Malcolm asked sceptically.

"Yeah, but that didn't mean I don't respect the man." Avery admitted sulkily, "Didn't mean to wound his honour, or whatever."

"So who started the rumour?" Jack asked carefully.

"Travers thought it up, Yaxley and Rowle started telling everyone." Avery said, in what sounded almost like a hopeful tone. Like the blame would be passed away from him for this.

"Rowle? He's sixth year, isn't it?" Vance asked.

"Another Death Eater spawn." Malcolm sneered in disgust, "House is just crawling with them."

"Maybe we should call an exterminator?" Smith suggested jokingly.

"Not funny." Jack snapped. And everyone fell silent. Nobody pushed Jack Harkness when he used that tone. It was all well and good threatening and fighting, but as soon as _that_ tone of voice came up, the younger students all backed off. Even Avery.

It was almost like they thought he was just playing around up to that point. And they were mostly right, too.

Jack sighed silently, and sat forward, frowning at the book he had been reading. It was the one Tosh bought in Knockturn Alley the previous year. Titled '_Destiny of the Deathless, A Quest For Immortality_', this book was downright _hilarious_.

So far all he had read in it were protection spells and advice for avoiding assassinations. True enough, it was from this very book that he had found the idea of charming curtains closed on a bed so nobody could creep up and stab you in your sleep without the tearing of the curtains waking you. Whoever had written this thing was completely paranoid, quite deranged, and more than a little bit immoral.

What really made Jack laugh was the fact that some of the less evil things suggested within its pages could probably also be found in Muggle manuals on how to childproof your home.

As the silence continued, he figured the others had gone to sleep, and continued reading quietly.

The last chapter in the book was where it actually began to sound somewhat serious.

It read more like something out of Dungeons and Dragons than a real magic book. Even Torchwood was capable of having an afternoon boring enough that Owen had produced the DnD rulebooks and tried to start a game. Owen made a terrible game-master, Ianto found a way to gain ultimate power within two hours, and Jack had sulked when a level two zombie had killed him.

In the end, the game had been banned from the Hub. But Jack would swear this spell 'so evil we shall not name it' was perfectly describing something that Owen had poked fun of back then. The DnD rulebook had called it a Phylactery, and since this book refused to name it that was the word that stuck in Jack's mind now.

Although this book's author seemed under the misguided impression that this was the only way to become immortal. At all. That was why it was funny, really.

There were many methods of achieving immortality. Fame. Fortune. Heroic deeds. Creativity. Lots and lots of descendants. Honestly, in Jack's opinion, actually living forever was the least appealing of the list.

x x x

The long black corridor loomed before Harry, and this time he was far more hesitant than before to follow it. Jack had warned him that in some forms of telepathy, tunnels like this were metaphorical, a representation of the gateway to the mind of another. Harry held back as best he could, but felt compelled to open the door when he reached it.

Beyond, he found a large round room, with many doors lining it. The door opposite was ajar... inviting.

He hesitated, again. It felt like he was being drawn towards that door by some will beyond his own, and only after standing still for what felt like a very long time did he believe he could actually resist that will. He was in control of himself, here. And _now_ he stepped forward towards the door.

The room beyond was a blur of twinkling lights, as he was drawn quickly through yet another door.

And now it was dark. A room so shadowed and tall that the ceiling was lost. There were shelves stacked with what looked like crystal balls, and he slowly began to follow the impulse to walk along between the cold stone wall and these rows upon rows of shelves. He was heading for a specific location. A certain number on these many shelves.

Ninety-five... ninety-six... ninety-seven.

Ninety-seven. This was the one.

He turned slowly, and scanned the shelves as he walked down them. Each crystal ball was labelled with at least one name, sometimes several. He found himself drawn to one in particular, far enough down that the wall was now lost to darkness as well.

The label read:  
>'<em>S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.<em>  
><em>Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter<em>'

'_Take it. Take it and hear it and share it with me_.'

Harry's hand stalled, less than an inch from having done exactly that. Did that cold hissing voice know that he heard it? If so, it should know better.

Dark Lord and Harry Potter, well that was obvious, though he had no idea why his name or Voldemort's self-proclaimed title were here... nor why his name has a question mark on it.

S.P.T. didn't make any sense to him at all, but A.P.W.B.D. did. Who else had initials like _that?_ Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

'_Of course, when I can't ask him about it, his name is literally written all over it!_' Harry thought morbidly.

Then a terrible scream rent the air. Harry turned around in the darkness, trying to find the source of the voice, but to no avail.

"Take it for me... lift it down, now... I cannot touch it... but you can." This time Voldemort's voice seemed aloud, while before it had seemed as only thought. And so when Voldemort's voice crowed, "Crucio!" Harry flinched in expectation of the pain himself.

Eternity or mere seconds of screaming passed, and then the curse must have ceased.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting."

'_Third person? What does he think he is, royalty? Sounds more like a house-elf_.' Harry thought with a cold smile at the idea.

But then a very famliar voice answered, "You'll have to kill me." It was Sirius.

"Undoubtedly I shall in the end." Voldemort all-but purred with delight at the pain he was causing, "But you will fetch it for me first, Black... you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again... we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream."

But Harry heard it, and he cringed in horror, trying not to scream himself.

And he woke up to a pain in his right hand more than anything else... though the scar on his forehead throbbed with a much duller pulsing pain, as well. He was in the Great Hall... in the middle of an exam... doubled over the desk, and biting his hand where the scars told him in vivid red not to tell lies.

It was the bite, not the old scars, that hurt. He would probably have worried if it had been the other way around.

He caught his breath, flushed and shaking from the dream. The exam didn't really matter anyway, nobody cared about History. He shakily stood and ran out of the hall, leaving his exam on the table and not caring for the stares that followed him to the door.

As soon as he was in a deserted corridor, he raised his hand to his ear and tapped the commlink Jack had given him.

"Sirius?" he called in a hoarse whisper.

No answer.

"Sirius! Padfoot, please answer me!" he cried desperately.

"What's the matter?" Owen Harper asked, amicably business-like.

"I need to talk to Sirius." Harry said quickly, "But he's not-"

"Harry?" Sirius' voice called over the commlink, hoarse and croaking, "Harry... don't- don't come after me. He's-" but he was cut off by a choked gasp for a moment, "-it's a trap, Harry. Don't-" and then he screamed. Long and loud and tortured.

Harry flinched, pulling the device from his ear and staring at it in horror.

He just caught Owen's shocked exclamation of, "Bloody hell."

The screaming cut off, and then Harry jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around sharply, drawing his wand as he did so, to aim at his assailant.

But it was just Ron. He and Hermione had followed Harry out of the great hall. "What's the matter, mate?" Ron asked, seeming a bit shocked at Harry's reaction.

"It's Voldemort, he's got Sirius." Harry said hurriedly, "We have to save him!"

"Hang on, hang on." Jack Harkness' voice asked over the comms, "I'm quite sure I heard the words 'it's a trap'."

Owen had the nerve to snort over the commlink, as if something about those words was in any way funny.

"Well of course it's a trap." Gwen Cooper pointed out sharply, "We need to tell someone immediately."

"We should tell McGonagall." Harry told all of them, both his friends who were standing with him in person, and those who only he could here over the comms.

"Oh, Harry, didn't you hear?" Hermione said in a pained tone, "She was transferred to St Mungo's this morning."

Harry stared at her.

"What about Snape?" Jack suggested.

"Snape?" Harry repeated, a bit shocked, "Yeah, he's in the Order, he can help us, can't he?"

"I dunno, mate." Ron said sceptically, but Harry had already turned and was careening off towards the dungeons at top speed. Ron and Hermione were hot on his heels.

They got to Snape's classroom at just about the same time as Jack arrived from the opposite direction. Jack was a couple of steps ahead, and barrelled straight into the door of the classroom, without bothering to knock. Harry, Ron and Hermione all piled into the room after him.

What they saw there was Snape, standing behind his desk, while Dolores Umbridge stood before it. Snape was seething in the way that made it clear he wanted to hex her, as she primly stood up on her toes to peer into the potion simmering on his desk. Both looked round in surprise at the sudden and unwelcome arrival of four students.

After a couple of tense seconds, Snape asked darkly, "Can I help you?"

Harry looked from Snape to Umbridge and back again, "I- I just- er- had a message for you, Professor." Harry said quickly, improvising and praying it would work, "Tom has Padfoot where I saw the snake." It was a good code for on the fly... he was sure Snape should get it.

"What precicely is a 'Padfoot', Mr Potter?" Umbridge asked sharply. Her prim and proper behaviour always frayed rapidly around students these days.

"I must say, I have no idea what Potter is drivelling about, Headmistress." Snape said coldly.

Harry glowered at him, meeting his eyes and trying very hard to focus on nothing but the memory of the dream and the sounds of Sirius being tortured. It hurt, but it would be worth it if Snape would just get it too.

Snape's lip curled, but he turned away from Harry, "I dare say this is quite irrelevant, and you should all leave this office immediately." he sneered.

Harry flushed with anger, and was about to say something _very_ inappropriate, when Ron and Jack grabbed him by the arms and held him back, "Of course, Professor." Jack said with false cheer, meeting the man's eyes as well, "We'll be on our way."

x x x

Jack had seen it in Snape's eyes... it would take hours to get a message to Dumbledore, even once he managed to shake off Umbridge... who seemed quite determined to dog him for the time being from what little Snape had deigned to reveal to him.

"Looks like we need to do this ourselves." Jack said with a scowl.

"What?" Hermione asked indignantly.

Jack just stalked down the corridor quickly, away from the office and back towards the great hall.

The others did follow, as he knew they would, but he didn't explain himself immediately because a gaggle of Hufflepuff girls had just poured out of the kitchens corridor and chattered their way past their small group. It wasn't advisable to say anything vaguely important in front of the school's official gossip chain.

As soon as the girls were safely up the stairs, Jack turned on the three older-looking Gryffindors, "Snape got your message, Harry... but it could take hours to pass it on to Dumbledore."

"Hours?" Harry protested in horror, "But Sirius is being tortured _now!_"

"Which is why we need to do something now." Jack agreed.

"But it's a trap." Tosh said, as the other four Torchwood team members appeared at the foot of the stairs, "Sirius said so himself."

"How?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Commlinks." Jack said with a weak smile, as he tapped the commlink in his ear, to show her, "We'll get you two a pair, once this is all over."

Hermione eyed the bit of tech with fascination, but didn't question it further. Instead, "But he'll _know_ we're coming. He'll be waiting!"

"He'll just be expecting Harry, though, won't he?" Ron asked, looking around, "If we all go..."

"No." Jack said sharply, turning to his team and declaring with unwavering command, "You four are _not_ going."

"Why not?" Ianto asked, confused.

"We can help, you know we can." Gwen protested.

"What it comes down to is force of magic." Jack explained, "And sorry, but we all know we're too young to be useful in a real fight yet."

"Then why do you think you're going?" Ron insisted.

Jack just gave Ianto a look... then nodded to Ron and Hermione. Ianto scowled at Ron, but shrugged and whispered in each of their ears in turn. Told them the Secret of his immortality.

"Wha-?" Ron gaped.

"But that's impossible." Hermione protested.

"We don't have time to argue." Jack said sharply.

But then someone cleared their throat behind them, a deep sound, not the horrid noise Umbridge usually made. They all spun around to see Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Ginny Weasley standing there. "We hear all of that. Well, except whatever Jones whispered to you two..." Neville explained, "The point is, we're coming with you. The D.A. was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know-Who, wasn't it? And this is the first chance we've had to do something real... or was that all just a game or something?"

"No, of course it wasn't-" Harry said, shocked at their determination.

"Then we should come too." Neville said simply, "We want to help."

"That's right." Luna agreed.

"And if you don't let us, I'll show you just how good I am with a bat-bogey hex." Ginny said, staring mostly at Ron, and looking more than prepared to carry out this threat.

Gwen stared mutinously at Jack, "Now how come we don't get to go?"

"Harry's friends are his choice." Jack said coldly, "I'm responsible for all of you, and after-" he bit his lip and shook his head, "Just no. Stay here. Try and prise Umbridge out of Snape's way, and keep us posted on what's happening here."

"Yes sir, Captain Harkness sir." Owen sniped, with far too much sarcasm and not enough saluting to even count as a proper impersonation.

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway." Harry said with a tense glare at his own friends, "Because we still don't know how to get there-"

"Well we can fly, can't we." Luna said, making it a statement rather than a question.

"Look." Ron snarled, turning on the poor girl, "You might be able to fly without a broomstick but the rest of us can't sprout wings whenever we-"

"There are ways of flying other than with broomsticks." Luna interrupted calmly, not taking any notice of his harsh tone.

"I s'pose we're going to ride on the back of the Kacky Snorgle or whatever it is?" Ron sniped.

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack can't fly." Luna said, raising her nose just a fraction in the air, as if the very suggestion was beneath her, "But Thestrals can, and Hagrid says they're very good at finding places their riders are looking for."

"Now I'm glad I'm not going." Ianto said dryly.

Jack gave him a wry smile, and then gestured with all the chivalry he could muster for Luna to lead the way, "Well then, let's not waste any more time."

x x x


	67. Time and Death

x x x

**Chapter 67: Time and Death**

x x x

Upon hearing what happened to Ianto when the Torchwood team had first encountered Thestrals, Neville suggested using a sticking charm to make sure they didn't fall off. It might have worked, but nobody knew for sure, because the Thestrals flew with such breakneck speed that they held on for dear life whether they actually needed to or not.

The long flight down from Hogwarts, somewhere up in the Scottish highlands, all the way down to the Ministry of Magic in London, was terrifyingly fast. One thing Jack was eternally grateful for was the fact that, in spite of being nothing but skin and bone there must be some magic about these creatures that made riding them bareback not in any predictable way uncomfortable.

It didn't take as long as any of them expected, either. A very long journey, on a thankfully warm summer evening, as they flew south below the clouds. Checking his watch as they landed, Jack concluded that they had in fact flown at just about the speed of a fighter jet. Far too fast for any human to fly with their skin exposed to the elements.

He gave the Thestrals a funny look, wondering if they magically ignored wind resistance, or if they were somehow protected from the elements in some other way. It broke all the laws of physics, either way.

"Over here come on!" Harry called, beckoning them down the dreary alleyway towards a heavily graffiti-ed old phone box. "Visitors entrance." Harry explained at the bemused look Jack was giving it. Jack continued to eye the thing up, stopping at a particular two words over the door.

_Those_ two words that made his heart stop. _'Bad Wolf'_.

Jack caught himself quickly, schooling his voice to a cheerfully irreverent tone, as he announced, "Anything I could possibly say right now would be lost on the six of you."

"You know, I think I saw one of these in the village near my house, once." Luna said vaguely, "It was blue, though."

Jack turned sharply to stare at her with outright incredulity.

"Er, guys? Sirius?" Harry asked, beckoning them into the phone box, which most unfortunately appeared to be precisely the size your average Muggle would expect on the inside. The seven teenagers only just managed to squeeze in and shut the door behind them.

"Oh yeah." Jack said sardonically. His back was crushed up against the plastic door, Hermione's left elbow was in his stomach and her hair in his face, while Neville tried very hard not to put any weight into the fact he was standing on Jack's left foot. "They can make a pop-tent like a mansion, but this they design with realistic relative dimensions... and whose hand is on my ass?"

The hand was rapidly removed, and Ron Weasley squeaked in horrified embarrassment, "Sorry." he mumbled, "Thought that was someone else."

"I'll bet you did." Jack said with his usual cheerfully salacious tone. Ron's eyes darted briefly to Hermione, who _did_ notice, and now blushed almost as furiously as Ron.

"Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!" Harry commanded, definitively putting an end to this frivolous debate.

Luna was closest, and complied... ducking down and using her nose to press the buttons, because her arms wouldn't bend that way in this cramped space.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic." one of those too-polite female voices you hear in all the most annoying automated devices chirruped, "Please state your name and business."

Harry answered hurriedly, "Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Jack Harkness... we're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you." the automated voice answered, oblivious as expected to the urgency of the situation, "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Seven badges fell out of the change dispenser in the phone mechanism. Hermione scooped them up and handed them out rather awkwardly in the cramped space.

When Jack received his, he laughed. It read;  
><em>'Jack Harkness, Rescue Mission.'<em>

"Oh, I am so keeping this." he said with a grin.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium." the automated voice continued on its spiel.

"Are they charging one-fifty a minute?" Jack wondered aloud, causing Harry to give him a look that was half-trying not to laugh, half-angry at him for joking right now. Hermione bit back a nervous laugh, while the four purebloods just stared blankly at Jack.

By this point, the phone booth had started to descend into the ground. Disappearing just as conspicuously as another phone box he could name, albeit by a method he was more used to in less confined spaces.

The last time he had been at the Ministry, he had arrived by Floo. A terribly disorienting experience he was glad not to need to repeat today. Even if it did mean Ron Weasley of all people grabbing his ass... and when they stopped at the bottom of the phone-box-elevator and the doors opened, Hermione Granger nearly kneeing him in the groin as they all fell out.

Yeah... still better than travelling by Floo. Especially as she only got his leg. It was a close call, though.

"Sorry!" she gasped, scrambling to her feet.

"No harm done." Jack said casually, his tone turning joking as he added, "You need to work on your aim."

"I didn't mean-" Hermione protested.

"I know. Relax." Jack said gently, brushing off his clothes, "If you're too uptight going into battle, you'll not be able to focus clearly."

Everyone was silent at that, looking at each other warily. Sure, they had all talked big, but now it seemed that they were only just realising quite how real this was.

"Come on." Harry said softly, turning and leading the way towards the elevators.

They all remained respectfully silent, as they followed Harry. He was the clear if unspoken leader that even Jack wouldn't dream of arguing with. They took the unnecessarily polite elevator down into the depths of the building. To what Harry named the 'Department of Mysteries'.

Down a foreboding corridor, one that Jack had heard described in enough detail to recognise on sight. The corridor from Harry's dreams.

Then quite suddenly, Harry stopped a few feet from the door at the end.

"Okay, listen." Harry said, turning to face them, "Maybe... maybe a couple of people should stay here as a- as a lookout, and-"

"And how're we going to let you know something's coming?" Ginny asked sceptically, "You could be miles away."

Harry turned to Jack, "Commlinks." he said immediately.

"I'm not sure that's wise. If Voldemort has Sirius, he could be listening." Jack said carefully, "We're safe as long as we don't activate them, but..."

"We're coming with you, Harry." Neville added with determination.

Harry looked terribly ambivalent for a minute, then gave Jack a despairing look, "How did you make your friends stay behind?"

"Years spent carefully developing an air of authority, mystery and intimidation." Jack said very bluntly. That wasn't the half of it, but it was certainly enough to be getting on with for now.

"Bloody Slytherin." Ron grumbled, in a tone that almost sounded like admiration. Almost.

"Might be worth it." Harry muttered, with a weak smile and a tone that tried and failed to sound joking.

"And they're probably already fetching Snape, Dumbledore and the cavalry, faster than humanly possible, just so they can join me in mortal peril, so we should probably just stop arguing and hurry up, alright?" Jack added cheerfully, before stepping past Harry and throwing the door wide open without any evidence of a care in the world.

Of course, he had his wand up his sleeve, like Ianto had shown him for feigning wandless magic... and he _was_ ready for anything.

Well, anything except a large, entirely black, circular room, featuring nothing but doors on all sides. The only lighting was that of cool blue candles, leaving the room with an eerie, shimmering air of silent reverence. While beautiful in its own dark way, this was both infuriating and a little bit boring compared to the fight he had half-expected.

The others followed him quickly, "Uh... Harry, which way did you go next in the dream?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Er... straight ahead, I think." and Jack immediately moved to that door, but before he could touch it, the door behind them slammed shut. It must have done this of its own accord, as nobody was near it now.

Then the walls began to move.

Jack backed up quickly before the blue flame mounted on the side of the door could hit him. The loud rumbling of stone echoed all around them, and the blue light blurred almost blindingly... leaving vivid impressions on his retinas when finally slowed and stopped.

"What was that about?" Ron whispered, staring around warily.

"I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in through." Ginny said quietly. They were all intimidated by this room, speaking in hushed voices.

Jack understood, and complied with their behaviour as he muttered, "Well that's helpful." even as he looked around at the anonymous doors that surrounded them. Counting the doors. "One in twelve chance of getting it right, now."

Hermione also looked around, thinking on this, "What if... we each open one all at the same time?"

"What if we're surrounded by Death Eaters on all sides?" Neville mumbled darkly.

Jack half-smiled at this remark, turning to face Neville directly, "That's the spirit." he joked, causing the slightly chubby boy to blush. He hadn't really meant that as flirtation, but... well, depends on the listener, he supposed. Ianto would have taken it as a compliment, too. "Besides." Jack continued more seriously, "The other door closed when I went to open this one. We might not be allowed to open more than one at a time."

"Well that's unhelpful." Ron grumbled.

"Well there has to be a way, maybe it's worth a try anyway?" Hermione asked, almost desperately.

Jack placed his hand on the nearest door, and reached across to the one next to it, with the full intentions of pushing both open at once. The instant he so much as touched the second door, however, he felt a vicious electric shock rush through his whole body from both sides.

He bit his lip hard, so as not to cry out and alert anyone to their presence... and then there was darkness.

x x x

Jack woke from the dead to see Harry leaning over him, concern etched across his face, "No offence, but I'm _really_ glad you tried that before Hermione could." Harry said, as Jack sat up and looked around. "We're checking them one at a time, now." Harry explained, just as Hermione pushed open a door behind him, her wand drawn as she peered warily around the door, rather than simply throwing it open.

Strategically, this has more disadvantages than it did advantages, in Jack's opinion. The defensive stance was nothing on the element of surprise if you had the speed and nerve to fire first.

Jack scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, noting the slightly befuddled looks on Neville and Ginny's faces.

"That was quite a shock you had there." Luna observed in her usual misty voice that may as well have been discussing the weather, "It's a wonder you're alive, really."

"Yes." Jack bit out darkly, "Wonderful."

He looked past the others, into the room they had just opened.

It was a large, mostly empty room, rather reminiscent of an ancient amphitheatre. What really caught the eye, however, was in the very centre of the room. Standing on a raised platform, looming brilliantly even though from where they stood at the top of the stands, was an archway. Tall and imposing, with a shimmering curtain hanging in tatters from it.

It should look terrible. It should be repellent. But it was _beautiful_.

Jack found himself unable to resist, climbing down the stairs before anyone could try to stop him, and circling the archway with fascination. Eyeing it up with the same level of fascination and adoration he would a potential lover.

A soft whisper of voices he couldn't make out seemed to echo around him, the closer he got to it.

"Careful!" Hermione shouted, and he heard one of the others scrambling down the steps behind him. But he didn't take his eyes off the archway and the fluttering veil that moved without any breeze to encourage it.

"Who's there?" Harry asked from close behind Jack now.

Jack barely spared him a glance, he was so completely entranced by the voices... which had become louder and more numerous the longer he watched and listened, though still entirely unidentifiable and unintelligible. It felt so familiar and comforting... like if he just stepped through this gateway...

"You hear it too?" he asked Harry, who gave him a confused look, "It's like they're calling me home."

"I just hear whispering, but..." Harry peered around the archway to see nobody there, "Where are they?"

"_What_ are they." Jack added to the list of questions.

"Let's go." Hermione called down, from halfway up the stone steps, "This isn't right, Harry, come on, let's go."

"Are you afraid?" Jack called up. He really didn't need to ask, it was obvious from the tone of her voice.

When he glanced up at her, she bit her lip and looked around edgily, "It's... it's just so wrong. That thing." she said, eyeing the veil as if it was purest evil.

Jack turned back to look at it, "I think it's gorgeous." It honestly felt to him like the most beautiful thing in the universe, right now, but... "I just can't bring myself to touch it."

As if he thought for some reason that it might be a good idea, Harry reached out to try to touch the veil himself. Very suddenly, Jack's whole perspective of this strange artefact changed. It wasn't just beautiful and alluring anymore. It was also the most terrible thing in the universe, as well. Every instinct in Jack's body told him, right now, to not just stop Harry but drag him several miles away from this thing. The best he managed was to grab his arm and pull him a couple of steps back... heart racing like he had just pulled someone out of the path of a bullet.

Jack turned to stare at Harry with confusion, "Sorry... but I think Hermione's right. We should leave."

Harry, however, was still staring at the veil, "It's kind of like standing next to an old friend." he said distantly.

Jack chuckled darkly, considering his own first thoughts on seeing this thing, "Or lover."

Ron snorted derisively, and Jack deigned to spare the effort to flip him off, smirking to show it was an amicable insult rather than malicious. Ron rolled his eyes with a vague sneer.

"The people in there aren't mean." Luna said, from just next to the raise platform. "They just miss us."

"What do you mean, 'in there'?" Hermione cried in exasperation, and some fear. "there isn't any 'in there', it's just an archway, there's no room for anybody to be there. Come on now, all of you, come away-"

Something about what both girls had said made it click in Jack's mind, and he pulled Harry further away, back towards the stone steps. Harry did resist, but not enough, especially when Ron joined in with the dragging.

"You may be right, Luna." Jack said, as the dreamy-eyed blonde followed them, "But they can just wait, can't they?"

Luna scrunched her nose at that idea, "That's a bit harsh." she muttered.

When they passed Hermione, she gave Jack a confused look, and asked him in a low tone, "Why humour her?"

"Because I think you're both right."

x x x

Harry was getting more and more agitated as they went along. They hadn't even found Sirius yet, and one of them had already died! Sure, it was just Jack, and apparently he always came back... but actually witnessing the proof of what he had heard about the Slytherin boy was still a bit of a shock.

"Why did you push me away from that thing, Jack?" he asked.

"I'm not sure." Jack said with a bit of a shrug, as if it shouldn't matter _why_ as long as they stayed away from it, though he did at least try to answer anyway, "It just felt like... it was dangerous. You shouldn't touch it."

"You said you wanted to." Harry pointed out.

Jack blinked, staring ahead rather than actually looking at him, "I don't think I do anymore." he answered distantly, as they stepped into the circular room and the door closed ominously behind him.

"Fine. Be cryptic then." Hermione sniffed, as the walls began to spin around them.

When it stopped, Harry chose another door at random, and pushed it. It didn't budge.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"It's... locked." Harry said, with some confusion. Why would it be locked? He tried throwing his weight into it, but it still didn't want to open.

"This is it, then, isn't it?" Ron concluded, taking a bit of a running start to try to help Harry throw it open. "Bound to be."

"Get out of the way!" Hermione cried with exasperation. Both Harry and Ron looked to see she was pointing her wand at the door, and immediately scrambled to obey her. "Alohomora!"

The spell hit the door with full force... but the door remained locked.

Jack stepped past them, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes. Blue lights flashed from the thing on his wrist. The same device he had used in the graveyard the previous year, to try and distract Wormtail. It illuminated where a door-handle or lock ought to be on the blank black door... then up the sides of the door itself, before disappearing as Jack covered the device with his sleeve once more.

"Well we don't want to go in there." he said, stepping back and looking at his wrist device. "There's some kind of intense energy in there... not all of it magical, either. I can't identify it, because this thing doesn't have every spell in existence programmed into it yet, but it _does_ look dangerous."

"Right, we're leaving that room." Hermione announced with finality.

"But what if that's the one?" Ron protested, staring at the locked door with much the same combination of adoration and fear that Jack had stared at the veil.

"It can't be, Harry could get through all the doors in his dream." Hermione said, definitively marking the door with a fiery X, just before the room began to spin again.

"You know what could be in there?" Luna asked brightly.

"You know what could be in the veil?" Jack asked her right back. Both exchanged a Look, Luna wide-eyed and fascinated, while Jack looked amused. Like this whole thing was some kind of game to him.

Harry tried the next random door, throwing it open with a rising feeling of desperation. They were wasting far too much time, really. One look at the room, however, and this feeling evaporated, "This is it!"

The vague glittering of the room solidified as his eyes adjusted to the light, and became a vast collection of clocks. Clocks covering every surface between shelves and other magical objects that also twinkled in the light. It was beautiful, but also unimportant in Harry's mind. This was just a distraction, and they had to get to the next room. In the centre of the room was a huge glass bell jar that reflected the light and seemed to be the source of most of the twinkling.

"Well, it's safe." Jack said, as he followed Harry into the room, "Shiny, too. Can't say I like the acoustics, though. Some of these are out of synch."

Harry knew better by now than to ask, when Jack was being cryptic. Either he didn't get any answer at all, or Jack went off on a long story that usually involved him being in the wrong place at the wrong time, stealing something, and ending up with him getting the girl- or whatever. On more than one occasion, the 'whatever' was the villain of the story.

Harry simply shook his head, and beckoned towards the far door, "This way." He followed the path he had in the dream, keeping a wary eye out for anything dangerous. The others followed him with confidence and faith in him that he really didn't feel himself.

As they passed the bell jar, Ginny cried out, "Oh, look!"

Harry turned to see that she was pointing to the centre of the bell jar itself. Inside it was a tiny sparkling egg, but as they watched it rose up and hatched into a beautifully delicate humming bird, reaching full adulthood as it drifted to the top of the jar... but then it floated down, regressing back to infancy and finally becoming the tiny egg once more.

"Keep going!" Harry ordered.

"You dawdled enough by that old arch!" Ginny retorted, admiring the bird only half a second longer before following him in spite of her words.

"Hey, are those Time Turners?" Jack asked, veering off to one side, where a glass-fronted cabinet stood in the glittering light. Sure enough, those small hour-glasses on golden chains _did_ greatly resemble Time Turners... and within seconds Jack had picked the lock on the cabinet- the Muggle way- and lifted one. "I've read about these- well, Ianto read, I got the highlights- always wondered how a student might get their hands on one... well." and he cheerfully pocketed it, while giving Harry and Hermione a knowing grin.

So he was on to that... seemed he was well informed about a lot of things. Harry stared at the cabinet, and wondered if this was going to turn into one of Jack's long list of inappropriate stories. It did already involve being in the wrong place... and there was the theft right there.

"This isn't a shopping trip, Harkness." Ron sniped.

Jack gave Ron a vaguely amused smirk, and promptly took a second Time Turner and pocketed it as well.

Ron rolled his eyes with a sneer of disapproval.

Harry just shook his head, and repeated "This way."

x x x


	68. No One Can Hear You Scream

x x x

**Chapter 68: No One Can Hear You Scream**

x x x

One thing Jack Harkness could definitely say for the magical world, it certainly had a flair for the dramatic.

Every step further down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic was that bit more grandiose, and did its best to seem that much more intimidating. Sure, Jack had seen scarier, but this place did it with style. This far in, it was pure horror-movie style. Like the Chamber of Secrets, the ceilings were lost in darkness, and the stones echoed with every step they took.

Every whisper was echoed to the point Jack was sure any enemy they might have in this room must hear them a mile off. He wouldn't even doubt that this place could go on for miles, either.

Eventually, they found the correct row, which Hermione announced with another unintentionally carrying whisper, "Ninety-seven!"

"We need to go right down to the end." Harry whispered, "You can't see properly from here."

But Jack was a bit distracted at that moment, for right at his eye-level, on the end of the row of shelves was a label with two words on it.

'_Bad Wolf._'

On the shelf directly above the label was what looked very much like a crystal ball, with coloured smoke drifting idly inside it. All the shelves were lined with these, but this neatly printed label... was definitely a sign.

"Hey guys, what do you think these things are?" he indicated the sphere that had drawn his attention.

"They look like crystal balls." Ginny offered, eyeing up a different one on a lower shelf, "What do you suppose the labels mean?"

Jack glanced at the one she was looking at.

'_S.L.V. to B.T.S._  
><em>Faith Lehane.<em>'

Then he scanned the others nearby. They all had initials as well as names... except for the one. His eyes drew back to the two words, half-expecting they might have been his imagination. But they were still there.

"We don't have time." Harry hissed at them, "We have to keep going!"

Jack was incredibly reluctant to tear his eyes from those two words. In fact, he wanted to reach out and take the object they were affiliated with... but Harry grabbed his arm when he didn't respond, and pulled him along with the rest of them.

By the time they got to the far end, Jack had pulled his arm free and was walking on his own, a bit indignant about being summarily marched away from something that felt so very important to him. There was nothing else here, only more shelves and more darkness. SHE was trying to get his attention back there, and he sorely wanted to return to it, to see why.

Harry looked all around them carefully, before turning to the shelf next to him and frowning. Jack followed his line of sight to see that it was another one of these labels that had drawn his attention.

'_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._  
><em>Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter.<em>'

"Harry..." Hermione said softly, "I don't think Sirius is here."

"I-" Harry started, but then looked around once more, "I heard him, but..."

"Did you _see_ him, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head morosely. Then slowly raised his eyes to the crystal ball that was labelled with his name. "This is it." he said quietly, "This is why he wanted me here."

"What is it?" Ron asked shakily, "What's your name doing down here?"

"I think the more important question is, what should we do with it?" Jack suggested, examining it carefully. He took out his wrist strap and tried to scan the object. The reading was magical, but gave off a few key matches to the physics involved in isomorphic technology. "It looks like only certain people can touch it."

"How'd you get that?" Ron asked with a blatant stare.

"I'm just that good." Jack jeered in retaliation. He was not about to explain the tech when a perfectly good opportunity to seem mysterious and powerful had just presented itself.

Ron, however, snorted disbelievingly.

"If that's true..." Ginny said, eyeing the orb warily, "Then it's probably you and... you-know-who. Since you're both on the label."

"How many Dark Lords are there?" Jack asked in a joking tone... though he really did wonder.

A few moments of silence passed, then Harry looked at Jack carefully, "If we want to find Sirius... we need to spring the trap."

"That does seem most likely." Jack said slowly, "And I get the feeling, even if we don't take the bait... we'll have trouble getting out back out."

Harry looked to the others for opinions.

"We've come this far." Ginny said.

"If we're gonna have to fight anyway." was Ron's opinion, accompanied by a determined nod.

"Best just get it over with, right?" Neville said, shaking a bit but still standing tall.

"It might help us know what's going on." Luna offered. Ever the Ravenclaw, in spite of what some people said about her.

Hermione sighed, then nodded sharply, "Let's get on with it, then."

Harry nodded, smiling faintly at the way his friends all rallied around him. He turned to the shelf, and carefully reached out and lifted the delicate-looking orb down.

Jack let out a breath of relief, as it turned out those isomorphic elements didn't harm him at all, and he caught a glimpse of the same relief flicker across Harry's face for a moment.

But then...

"Very good, Potter." a familiar, cold voice said from behind Harry, "Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Jack looked up to see the man who had spoken was concealed by heavy black hooded robes and a mask. Of course, the voice was unmistakable. Harry turned around sharply, to face Lucius Malfoy, instinctively clutching the glass sphere more defensively. And all around them, more hooded and shadowy figures were appearing out of the darkness.

"To me, Potter." Lucius repeated, through gritted teeth. "To me."

Jack scanned the area. The Death Eaters had them surrounded, and outnumbered by about two-to-one. And that wasn't even accounting for the fact that they were fully-trained adult wizards... versus a bunch of school-kids.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry demanded.

The shrouded enemies around them echoed with cruel laughter, though none so much as the cackling female voice to Lucius' left. "The Dark Lord always knows!" she crowed gleefully, stepping into view. She wore much the same robes as the others, though some flyaway black hair was peeking out between mask and hood.

"Always." Lucius said coolly. While his tone was of honest agreement, his eyes, glittering cold grey from behind the mask he wore, showed irritation. As if he believed her an inconvenience better appeased than left to her own devices. "Now, give me the prophecy Potter."

"I want to know where Sirius is!" Harry insisted.

"I want to know where Sirius is!" the woman mocked in a childish tone.

Jack frowned, glancing at Neville, who was standing right beside him. He elbowed Neville lightly, and let his eyes dart in the direction of the woman. Neville nodded grimly. This woman was his Boggart. Why, however, was a question for later, as the surrounding Death Eaters had closed in around them, wands aimed and threatening.

"You've got him." Harry insisted, "I know you have... now _WHERE IS HE!_"

The woman to Lucius' left giggled maliciously, "The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo." she taunted.

Jack caught Ron's shoulder, before he could lunge at the woman. The silent snarl on Ron's face faded to confusion as he looked at Jack. "She's not yours."

"And just what does that mean, exactly, Mr Harkness?" Lucius asked carefully.

"Not quite cold enough, yet." was all Jack said, smirking.

Lucius was visibly confused for all of a second before, with no evidence of understanding the cryptic statement, he sighed, "I really had thought better of you, Harkness. You had so much potential."

"Can I plead Imperius Curse?" Jack taunted, causing Lucius to tense up, his wand twitching slightly as he just about resisted the urge to take his aim from Harry and hex Jack.

"Truly a spiteful and malicious child." Lucius sneered at him- a strange kind of half-insult, which Lucius must have realised he would take as a compliment- before turning his full attention back to Harry. "Now give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I know you have Sirius." Harry snarled, "Where is he?"

Again, the Death Eaters laughed at them, as if this was one big joke.

"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter." Lucius said, not joining in with the laughter of his fellows, "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on, then." Harry said, raising his own wand defensively. As did the other five students. Jack just stood there, with his arms folded, though his right arm, where his wand was concealed, was ready to move at a moment's notice. He was prepared for a fight, but trying his very best to look harmless.

But nobody fired the first curse. The Death Eaters didn't move.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt." Lucius said calmly.

This time it was Harry who laughed, albeit not so much genuine amusement as derisive. "Yeah, right! I give you this- prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

But the woman who had appeared as Neville's Boggart was apparently not so well-endowed with patience, "Accio prophecy!"

"Protego!" Harry countered her spell with impressive ease.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter." she cackled, pacing in front of them in such a predatory manner that Jack half-wished for somebody to arrange a showdown between her and the Master. "Very well, then-"

"I told you, _no!_" Lucius yelled at her, "If you smash it-!"

She stepped forward, pulling off her hood and mask to reveal the same mad face Jack remembered from that day in the D.A. "You need more persuasion?" she suggested gleefully, "Very well. Take the smallest one. Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."

As one the other five students move in to defend Ginny, with Harry directly in front of her. Harry held up the prophecy in front of him, like a shield. And to the Death Eaters it probably would work just as well as a human shield might to someone with a conscience.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us." Harry warned her, "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"

And then it was stalemate.

"Who's side are you on, anyway, Harkness?" Ron sniped.

"The right side." Jack replied simply. Truth be told, he had put some effort into earning Lucius Malfoy's allegiance, and he wasn't about to screw it all up now if he could reasonably avoid it. Reasonable, of course, meant no loss of life.

"Of course." Lucius said, with no small degree of sarcasm, "You show up with Harry Potter and his ragamuffin band, and then dare think these cryptic games will save you?"

Jack just shrugged, smirking faintly at Lucius' confusion.

"So." Harry said, not appearing in the slightest concerned for the way Jack was behaving, "What kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?"

"What kind of prophecy?" the insane witch mimicked, her wild grin fading slightly in disbelief, "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting." Harry said, the tension audible in every word.

"If I might intervene-" Jack said pointedly, his attention mostly on the woman who looked just about ready to claw somebody's eyes out, "-before we upset this delightful lady." That was pure sarcasm, and Ron snorted loudly at it. "Maybe we should talk this through like reasonable people."

"But of course." Lucius agreed quickly, cutting off the woman's attempt at a retort with a sharp wave of his hand. He then looked to Harry, "You asked what kind of prophecy, Mr Potter? You really mean to say that Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?"

"Dumbledore doesn't tell a lot of things." Jack said, seeing the bitter way Harry's face twisted at this taunt, "Maybe you could enlighten us?"

An audible growl from behind Jack made him glance briefly at Ron, who was predictably glaring bloody murder at Lucius. Jack caught his eyes and tried to convey the message of 'don't'. Don't speak... don't attack... whatever Ron was thinking. Just don't. Ron's glower went down about a percent, and he sulked.

All this in a second, but still when Jack turned back it was clear that Lucius had noticed, raising one too-well-groomed eyebrow and half-smirking half-sneering.

But the same message was in Jack's eyes, and Lucius paused with a frown, "Quite the little peace-maker, aren't we, Mr Harkness?"

"I prefer Webley." Jack muttered dismissively, though it earned a shocked squeak from Hermione, before continuing quickly, "If you explain why you want the prophecy, maybe we can come to some... mutually beneficial arrangement?"

Lucius frowned thoughtfully at him for a moment, before very carefully picking his words, "The prophecy is said to tell the shared destiny of the Dark Lord and Mr Potter here. Perhaps I could... show you how to activate it. Let you hear it, and then take it for the Dark Lord to hear as well."

Jack glanced at Harry whose expression had become somewhat covetous at this idea... but he still looked determined not to hand the thing over.

"It would level the playing field." Jack observed, "Instead of fighting over which side gets it."

"Exactly." Lucius agreed, a bit too quickly.

"Of course then there's the small detail of all of us getting out of here alive." Jack added pointedly. Ron snorted once more, but Jack just ignored him. Lucius tensed at this statement, however, making it quite clear that his plan basically consisted of 'take prophecy - kill witnesses'. "Maybe if we all go up to the Atrium, you tell us how to hear the prophecy, then we set it down somewhere for you to take _after_ we Floo out of here."

"Reasonable." Luna said in her usual airy voice. She was immediately shushed by Hermione.

Lucius pressed his lips together, as he tried to decided how to respond to this perfectly reasonable suggestion. Jack's opinion of him went up a notch or two as he failed to make any whining protest to how the seven students could cheat that plan. The dozen Death Eaters could cheat it just as easily. Childish as such an argument was, at least one person on each side could see all the loopholes of such an offer, and it would have been so cliche to play that game.

The woman, on the other hand, "They would just take the prophecy with them! I say we start killing!" she shrieked, aiming her wand. Not at Harry, as she had done before, but at Jack.

"You're kidding, right!" Ron roared with laughter. Unfortunately, this caused her to aim the wand at him. That stopped him laughing pretty quickly, "You're not kidding."

Jack immediately moved between Ron and this insane woman, stepping forward, so he was in the open space between the students and the Death Eaters... a little bit closer now to her than anyone else. "Aww, calm down, crazy kitty." he said somewhere only slightly closer to genuinely gentle than to mocking. Several Death Eaters snickers. "Maybe you and I should go somewhere quiet and work out a few of your anger issues."

That got an outright laugh from one of the other Death Eaters. A particularly large one with a deep guttural voice that identified him as male. Though you couldn't clearly tell by looking at his chest. "Think he likes you, Bella."

"You filthy little Mudblood." 'Bella' shrieked in disgust, "How dare-"

"_Hey!_" Jack snapped, now almost toe to toe with her. She was only an inch taller than him- and it was quite easy for him to yell in her face, "Who said I had any Muggle blood?" he demanded loudly. She backed off a little, but only by straightening up from her aggressive pose. Jack lowered his voice to a reasonable pitch, "If you're going to be violently racist, please research the bloodlines properly before throwing names- or more fun yet, curses- around."

Bella actually looked a little bit cowed by that, pouting in an almost adorable way.

However, the tense silence, as the Death Eaters were all staring in awe at Jack and Bella, was shattered by Harry shouting, "_NOW!_"

And all six of the other students shouted, "_REDUCTO!_"

Suddenly the shelves and delicate glass prophecies were falling down around Jack and the Death Eaters. Jack had the presence of mind- in fact he'd been waiting for and counting on Harry to do something like that- to back off and join the others as they fled back the way they had come.

x x x

Ron, Ginny, Luna and Jack made it to the end of the aisle a fair few feet behind the others. Ginny tripped and skidded along until she ran feet-first into the wall. Ron rushed to check on her. Mum would kill him if anything happened to her baby girl.

"I'm okay, Ron." Ginny said quickly picking herself up and turning to aim her wand back the way they came. Nobody was there but Luna and Jack.

Jack who had just grabbed one of the prophecies off the shelf.

"What the hell, mate?" Ron yelled.

The Slytherin was shaking his hand in pain, like he'd been burned, but still trying to hold on to the glass sphere in spite of it. He lost his grip, however, and it smashed open on the floor.

A tiny ghost-like female figure floated up from it, speaking in a detached and eerie tone that sounded like it might have been Luna, if it didn't have a more London accent.

"_The Bad Wolf listens to the moon, in her darkest hour,_  
><em>And the night shall bring temperance, 'ere lightning strikes tower.<em>  
><em>We stand united, and fight to the end.<em>  
><em>Time is our ally, and death is our friend.<em>"

It then faded into mist.

Everyone just stared at the shattered remains of the prophecy for several seconds, before Ron demanded, "Look, they're coming after us. We've got to find the others."

Luna stepped delicately past the shattered glass, and took Jack's hand lightly, "Come on, Jack. We need to go now." she said vaguely, as if this was all just a dream to her.

Jack now turned to stare at her for a second, before smiling faintly, "Luna... nice name. I always did like Latin."

"Oh dear, did you hit your head?" Luna asked curiously.

"Come on!" Ron urged them both.

Jack shook his head, as if coming out of a daze, "I'm fine. Where are the others?" Luna just shrugged vaguely.

"No idea." Ron answered anxiously, "But we should get moving."

He looked back one more time, then turned left from the end of the aisle. The other three took his lead, even Jack. But after a minute of running- and the sound of the Death Eaters catching up, as well- Ron began to realise this was the wrong way. "Aw, bloody hell!" he yelled as they reached a door. Ginny threw it open with an Alohomora charm, and ran right past him, "We should have turned right!"

Jack actually had the nerve to laugh at that, as he and Luna made it through the door and Ron slammed it. Ginny was the one to lock it, with another spell. Her spells got downright scary when she was mad, and she looked mad right now.

The banging on the now locked door urged them forward, and Ron barely had any time to look around before he tripped and fell forward into a kind of abyss.

He yelled in shock, but after a few seconds he realised he wasn't _falling_. He was just... floating.

Ron saw Ginny a few feet away- just out of reach- flailing in panic. Jack sort of floated over to her, and caught her arms to stabilise her. And Ron watched in confused awe as they sort of drifted, slowly spinning upside-down. When they came back the right way up, Jack kicked out past Ginny, and they stopped spinning.

"Anti-gravity." Jack said, grinning, "Love it! Reminds me of- uh, well... nevermind."

Ginny laughed, and Ron glowered. "What's so funny?" Ron protested.

"He means something quite rude, I think." Luna observed, as only she could.

"Oi, Harkness. Get your paws off my sister!"

Jack immediately complied, still grinning, "It's kind of like swimming, but with less resistance. You can move faster, but you can't get started from thin air anywhere near as well as from water."

Ron looked down... and his stomach leapt up into his throat. There was _nothing_ below them. Just a deep black pit. Up... and still nothing. Two walls were visible, though only one seemed to have a door... and further out were what looked like a giant model of the solar system. Like those ones he'd seen in the shops but could never afford... except _huge_.

"We really need to get out of here." Ron said, glancing back at the door once more. There was a tiny platform of ground there. Just enough for one or two people to stand on.

"That's the only door." Luna pointed out, most unhelpfully.

"Did anyone see how many there were?" Jack asked.

Ginny nodded, and answered, "Six, I think."

"Not so bad." Jack observed, smiling weakly. He suddenly twisted around, and turned in the air. Ron only just heard him mutter, "Depulso." holding his right hand above him at an angle away from the door, and he saw the _spell_ but not the wand. Ron really didn't get how that worked, but it made Jack kind of dive downwards and back towards the door, really fast... ending up beneath the small platform, "Over here."

Ron looked at the girls, before shrugging warily and doing his best to mimick the movement, casting the spell in the opposite direction from where he was aiming for, just as Jack had done. It was incredibly unnerving, moving through thin air like this without a broom... made him feel a bit vulnerable, not that he would ever admit as much, especially when a certain person seemed perfectly at home in this environment.

Once they were all right below the door, Ron turned on Jack, "Now what?"

"Well, you're physically strongest." Jack said, "So you could hold onto the platform here, and grab the Death Eaters by the ankles and send them flying."

"I wonder how far it goes." Luna said softly, "They could be lost forever."

"Serve 'em right." Ron growled, nodding to Jack, "I can do that."

"The girls are both good aims, and their curses are pretty powerful, so they can shoot anyone that manages to get their bearings." Jack continued, and all three nodded to him now.

Ron was beginning to see why Harry had said Jack could be a great leader. Like a warrior, mind you, and that wasn't always such a good thing. "And you?" he asked.

"I haven't played in zero-G for years." he said with a downright evil grin, "I want to have some fun."

x x x

_Two hours earlier..._

"So where do you reckon Dumbledore is, then?" Owen asked, sulking as they loitered outside Snape's office.

"Maybe he's at that place where Jack went around Christmas time?" Gwen suggested, but Tosh immediately shook her head.

"We can't even know where that is." she countered, "Jack said Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper."

"Well, what do we do now, then?" Gwen asked.

"Send him an owl." Ianto suggested, with perfect seriousness. They all stared at him like he had lost his mind.

"You what?" Owen asked sceptically.

"It's probably how Snape would end up contacting him, anyway." Ianto explained, "_But_... we could send him an owl and then follow it."

Owen snorted, "Not getting me on a bloody broomstick, mate."

"It's either that or a flying horse, and I'm not particularly keen on reliving that right now." Ianto pointed out sharply.

Owen sulked.

"What if that takes too long?" Tosh asked warily, "Maybe Owen and I could stay here to catch Snape, and you and Gwen could go looking for Dumbledore."

"Excellent idea!" Owen agreed instantly, "Off you go, then. Good luck. Better hope he's still in the country somewhere."

Ianto glared at Owen, but then simply rolled his eyes and chose to do the sane thing by ignoring Owen, "Well then, better hurry. Time's a wasting."

x x x


	69. Mind Games

x x x

**Chapter 69: Mind Games**

x x x

Ianto was secretly impressed by Gwen's ability to manipulate people. He, himself, had simply walked through the Slytherin common room, nodding politely to Draco Malfoy on the way, into the third year boys' dormitories, and then walked back out again with Jack's broom.

Nobody batted an eye at his behaviour, and he had not expected them to. They were Slytherins, after all.

Gwen had managed to convince the two Gryffindor fifth year boys remaining in the school that Harry Potter was in mortal peril and they needed to borrow his broom in order to save him. Admittedly, the mortal peril part was an easy sell... but taking their star Quidditch player's broomstick without presenting hard evidence of its necessity was the part that made it impressive.

Now they were standing by the largest window in the owlery, as Gwen quickly scrawled the 'letter' they needed on a scrap of parchment.

Their owl, Aderyn, may have been small and innocuous, but she was fast. Hogwarts to Cardiff in less than six hours, last time he checked... which was pretty impressive for a bird of that size.

"Alright, one more thing before you give her the note." Ianto said, taking out his wand and touching it lightly on the bird's head, "Luminos." It wasn't a real spell, but Tosh had been using it as a basic test of the premise behind writing your own spells, and it did work. Did exactly what it sounded like it should, too. Aderyn's feathers began to glow a distinctive greenish blue colour. She did not look happy about this at all.

Gwen giggled, "Poor thing." as she spoke, she knelt down and tied the 'letter' to the owl's leg, "Don't worry girl, we'll fix what that mean Ianto did to you, just as soon as you deliver this letter, okay?"

The owl ruffled her feathers indignantly, and then took off out the window.

Without pause to retaliate to Gwen's remark, Ianto leapt out the window after her, with the broom in his hand. Half a second later, Gwen stared at him with incredulity, as he soared up from the brief fall, now with the precarious mode of transport appropriately (or inappropriately, if you thought about it that way) positioned beneath him.

He just heard Gwen grumbling, "Show off." as she also took off- in the proper form- and they flew out together into the dead of night, in hot pursuit of the glowing blob of feathers in the dark, which was their only guide.

x x x

Lucius Malfoy was a great strategist, though he was rarely afforded the opportunity to enact his _own_ plans. No, instead he had to baby-sit Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov. In his opinion, the second and third most inappropriate individuals to take on a mission of stealth and tact dealing with a group of children. Both were entirely mad and far too eager to fight when logic could solve all their problems instead.

Still, he did know how best to deploy the assets granted to him. He allowed the least stable of this pair of deranged berserkers to lead the pursuit of the four children who had fled to the left, while he sent the other, and a few of the more competent minions at his disposal after Potter and the other two.

He, himself, wanted to catch Harkness. Even now, he wasn't sure which side the boy was on. It was entirely possible that the attempt at negotiation was genuine.

It was Avery who eventually blasted the door off its hinges and sent it flying, and the witless wonders that were his fellow Death Eaters all piled in, far too eagerly.

Lucius stood back, and was rather more amused than surprised by the consequences of their actions.

He saw a hand grab Bellatrix's ankle, and no sooner was she pulled out of sight than she was sent flying with- oh dear, a bat bogey hex, of all the ridiculous and immature things. Quite amusing, but he felt he really ought to do something about it, so it was that while the rest of the Death Eaters flailed in the void that was this room's Mystery, Lucius raised his wand casually and cast, "Accio."

Bellatrix flew right at him, and he pointedly stepped out of her way so that she landed on the ground instead of on top of him, "Do watch your step next time, Bellatrix." he sneered, before aiming his wand at the small ledge beyond the doorway, "Reducto."

The stone shuddered and cracked, and he heard two distinctly feminine yelps from below. He chose to believe both sounds were emitted by Weasleys, and not that other girl that had been with them.

But then he noticed something else. The other Death Eaters. Instead of floating aimlessly, flailing their limbs like the hapless fools he knew they were... they were engaged in a rather impressive display. Unfortunately, as the victims.

Beyond the ledge floated a model of the solar system. Each sphere, while appearing much like its natural counterpart, was clearly solid. Lucius could tell this only by the fact that a lone figure appeared to know exactly how to use this room to his advantage.

Yes, Jack Harkness was flying through the weightless void, propelling himself with what looked distinctly like the Depulso spell, and using the 'planets' both as cover and as aids to his movement. The boy was flourishing and showing off much like a Quidditch player might.

If Lucius didn't know better, he'd think the boy was just playing games.

Yet he was not merely evading the other Death Eaters. He was lashing out at them as well. Lucius watched as Harkness soared up to the 'moon', flipped over in midair so he landed hard on his feet, and kicked off aiming for Rabastan. A second flip, and his feet contacted hard with the man's jaw, sending him reeling.

Lucius sighed dramatically, "You just can't get good help these days." he grumbled, "Accio." And Rabastan's cringing and whimpering body was summoned to fall at Lucius' feet.

The other three- Avery, Rodolfus and Macnair- were incapacitated either by their own incompetence, the curses flying from beneath the ledge, or the impressively violent behaviour of Mr Harkness. Lucius honestly couldn't tell which did the most damage, of the three.

Harkness halted himself with another Depulso spell, and it was then that Lucius saw he wasn't even holding a wand. Just holding his hand out, now aimed at Lucius, who was not so foolish as to believe for an instant that the boy was unable to curse him that way. Though he would be eager to learn how.

"Most impressive." Lucius said carefully, his own wand aimed at the stone plateau, "However I do wonder whether you would surrender if I did this... Reducto!"

The ledge shuddered once more, but didn't break.

Harkness just laughed, "Oh boy, you really don't get gravity, do you, Mr Malfoy?" he straightened himself up, still smirking, "No offence intended of course."

"Even now, you attempt to negotiate?" Lucius asked sceptically.

Harkness shrugged, smiling brightly, "Just because I happened to like Harry Potter, doesn't mean you and I can't still be friends. It's not like he's prophesised to kill _you_."

"_TREACHEROUS LITTLE-!_" Bellatrix yelled, but instead of thinking of a suitable insult- perhaps her entire repertoire was based on blood status- she shrieked, "_CRUCIO!_"

With a wave of his hand- not even a word, Harkness cast a Depulso spell that sent him several feet to the left, well out of the line of fire from the torture curse. "Bella, darling, while I appreciate your interest, I'm a bit busy right now. Although, I do know a lovely club in London that might just cater to your level of sadism, I'd be happy to take you for drinks after we're done here."

Shocked laughter emanated from below the ledge, and Lucius irritably cast, "Reducto!" once more.

The stone shattered... but then simply floated off to the sides. Lucius stared at it for a moment.

"What?" Harkness asked grinning, "Did you expect it to fall?"

Lucius grit his teeth, and aimed his wand at the flashes of red hair he saw through the cracks in the stone.

But Harkness was faster, shouting out, "Protego!" The spell covered the other children, rather than Harkness himself, and by the time Lucius raised his wand to the real threat, Harkness had physically collided with him, knocking him to the ground with a surprisingly heavy boot to his neck. "Incarcerous."

And all Lucius could hear was Bellatrix's shrieks of rage, as the spell bound both of them, and the students fled back the way they had come.

x x x

"You did wordless magic!" Ron demanded, once they reached an unoccupied room and all proceeded to cast locking charms on the doors.

"And wandless." Luna put in.

"Actually, the wandless thing is just a trick." Jack explained quickly, positively beaming at the way he had shocked them. "Wand's up my sleeve. It only needs to be pointed the right way and have skin contact to work."

"And the wordless?" Ginny insisted.

"It's all about belief and willpower." Jack shrugged, grinning at her in a way that showed maybe one or two too many perfect teeth. It didn't _exactly_ remind her of Professor Lockhart from her first year, but maybe of what Lockhart was trying to pretend to be. "If you think you can do it, and want it enough... well that's how most basic spells work, anyway. And you're all purebloods, so I'm not going to bother cracking a joke about Muggle comic books giving me inspiration and confidence in the particular magic I was using there."

"Which comics?" Luna asked.

Jack turned his head to her, and said just as bluntly as she spoke, "Iron Man."

Luna shook her head, "Never heard of it. Might look for it, though. Is he made of iron, or just a bit like it?"

Jack laughed, "Bit more complicated than that, Luna."

"What do we do now?" Ginny asked, trying her best to mimic his confidence. She didn't especially like the charismatic Slytherin boy- his flair and charm had always reminded her a bit too much of Tom Riddle- but if _Ron_ could put up with him, she was certainly going to give him a chance as well. "We have to find the others."

"I recognise this room." Luna said dreamily.

They all looked around and saw the tanks. The tanks full of what looked like human brains.

Ginny tried quite hard to suppress the malicious little feeling of triumph at Jack's confusion, when he said, "I don't."

"You were, uh, unconscious, mate." Ron said. Ginny turned her gaze on Ron, eyes narrowing. That was his hiding-something voice.

She _would_ interrogate him later... but for now she filed it away carefully in her mind, and pointed out, "But that means, one of these doors is the way out."

"But we don't want _out_." Ron said, "We want to find Harry."

"Yes, but once we do find him." Ginny replied, hands on hips just like mom.

Ron backed down, "Yeah, well we gotta check the doors anyway, don't we?"

"That's a lot of doors." Jack muttered, eyeing them all as if each and every one had an enemy behind it. For all they knew, that could be true.

While the others all peered around nervously, it was Ginny who straightened up and chose to act. She marched over to the nearest door, "Ready?" she asked. It took a few seconds for them to all agree, but agree they did. And she pulled open the door, aiming her wand through the doorway with determination.

Nobody was there, but what she saw was quite fascinating.

Rows and rows of small desks, each with a silver hand-mirror floating above it on a kind of mist. It was cold, but not horribly so. Just a chill coming from the mirrors, making them feel a bit like ghosts. The mirrors all faced them, and turned eerily to follow them as they walked further into the room. Ginny felt herself drawn to one in particular, and slowly walked towards it.

When she peered into the partially frosted glass, images began to appear as if out of a thick mist. She the image in the mirror moved through the Chamber of Secrets. Stared down at the ground as the serpent was summoned, and turned away from it, barely glimpsing the tip of its glossy green tail, before moving on... up into the castle, and there was that horrible cat that had gotten her into trouble on her second day. Ginny turned away from the mirror, not wanting to see that again.

Not wanting to remember.

She looked around to see that the other three had also been drawn in by these eerie mirrors. Ron was scowling, looking disgusted. Luna's head was tilted at an odd angle as she stared in fascination. Only Jack had also turned away, his hand over his eyes as he trembled slightly.

"What did you see?" she asked softly.

"Memories." he said, voice a bit hoarse.

"Of?" Ginny asked, but he shook his head and turned away from her. "Come on, I'm a good listener." She also found it ironic that she was getting a glimpse of the true soul of the boy who had scared her so, two years ago, by acting out in a way that reminded her of Tom Riddle. Here she was, reminded again, but it was him, this time, who showed pain and weakness.

He took a shuddering breath, and slowly looked up at her with an attempt at a smile that was twisted with pain. It looked like he was seriously considering telling her, but then he shook his head and laughed, that pain showing deeply in the wounded tone of it, "Sorry, Ginny. I honestly believe you care, but we don't have time to play therapist, and by the time we're out of here I won't be feeling vulnerable enough to share."

Ginny rolled her eyes with a faint but honest smile, "Have it your way." she dismissed, turning on her brother and tapping him sharply on the shoulder, "Wakey wakey, Ron!"

Ron shook himself with surprise and confusion, as if he really had been lost in a dream, "Huh?"

"I'm not even going to ask." Ginny muttered, turning to see that Jack had pulled a vaguely bemused Luna from the mirror she had been gazing into, as well. "They're not here, so we shouldn't be either."

"Right." Ron said, a bit shaken but okay, "Right, let's go."

x x x

At almost exactly the same time, Ron, Jack, Ginny and Luna piled into the brain room from one door... and Harry, Hermione and Neville entered from another.

Both groups stopped quite suddenly- somewhat comically, even- and stared at each other for a second.

Then Ron demanded, "Hermione! What happened?"

Neville was carrying Hermione's unconscious body over his shoulders. There was some blood, though not enough to automatically assume she was seriously wounded... and half of it seemed to be coming from Neville's nose, which looked like it had been broken. Still, Ron immediately rushed to check her pulse and breathing, even as Harry assured him, "She's just knocked out."

"What happened to you guys?" Ginny asked, frowning, as the two groups met in the middle of the room, between two large tanks of brains.

"We ran back into the room with the time turners, but the Death Eaters followed us." Harry explained, albeit a bit distracted by the noise when Jack began scanning the brains in the tank. "What _is_ that thing, anyway, Jack?"

"This?" Jack held up the wrist device, grinning, "Mine. That is all you ever need know about it."

"And what're you doing with it?" Ron asked sceptically.

"They aren't just brains... there's a whole list of spells on them, none of which I can identify." Jack frowned, tapping the device, "They're biologically dead... like the spells are the only thing keeping them going."

"You get all that from the thing on your arm?" Ron demanded. Jack just shrugged.

"Here they are!" Bellatrix's voice shrieked, and all of a sudden the Death Eaters were pouring into the room through the door that Harry, Neville and Hermione had entered. "Get Potter!"

Ginny and Luna immediately lashed out with their attacking spells. Harry and Ron both cast Protego, covering the whole group between them- though the odds of the shields being strong enough to hold off these Death Eaters were pretty slim. As soon as Ron cast the spell, he turned to Jack. "The brains...?" he asked, half-distracted by the focus required to hold up the shield.

It was more a suggestion than a question. To Jack, the behaviour was likened to a soldier suggesting a strategy to his commanding officer.

"Oh yeah." Jack said with a vicious grin, raising his hand towards the tanks, and shouting, "Leviosa!" Just like Petrificus, the part-spell was all that needed to be said. Several of the enchanted things that had once been human brains rose up from the tank and with a wave of Jack's hand they all-but dive-bombed the Death Eaters.

A couple of them dodged, but they were too busy deflecting real spells to see the brains as a real threat... until...

It was so eerie to watch, as the brains got close enough to the humans, strange tendrils began reeling out of the brains, flickering oddly in a way that made them look like old movie film. Two of the brains slapped against the walls, making the most sickening sounds as they did so. The other three made contact with their targets, and the tendrils wove around them terrifyingly fast.

Within seconds, those three Death Eaters were bound up in the strange film-like substance, writhing against their bonds, and whimpering in an oddly quiet way that was significantly more unsettling than if they had screamed out loud.

"You're getting scary with that wandless thing." Ron muttered.

"Thank you." Jack said, his cheerful tone dampened slightly by the way his victims had reacted to the attack. It was unexpected, and honestly unnerving. "Incarcerous!"

He had been aiming at another Death Eater, who he recognised from the Daily Prophet as Antonin Dolohov. Dolohov had been about to throw a hex at the relatively defenceless Neville and Hermione. The man blocked the curse, and threw another right back at Jack. It struck him in the chest, and he wasn't sure for a moment exactly what had happened... except that he somehow managed to find the floor with the right side of his face.

"Bloody hell!" Ron yelled, sparing a glance for Jack but keeping his main focus on the fight, "You okay, mate?"

"No." Jack ground out, rolling painfully onto his back. It felt like the spell had sent waves of fire through the left side of his body.

"Leviosa!" Ron shouted, and another wave of the brains flew at the Death Eaters. Jack didn't see what happened this time, however, as he was hidden behind the tank. Still, he felt a wave of pride at it, regardless. Just because the element of surprise helped the first time, doesn't mean you shouldn't try your highly unorthodox yet strangely effective attack twice.

But still, judging by the way the pain from this curse was spreading, and the fact that his chest was bleeding quite dramatically, this curse was potentially fatal.

It was a very cold and mercenary mentality, which he had developed under the influence of the old Torchwood regime, especially during the first two world wars. An incapacitated and slowly dying soldier is useless. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could fight again.

The others were distracted, and he turned his back to them, taking out the knife he always kept in his boot. Since has long as he could remember, he always carried a knife like this, just in case. He blamed the paranoia of the Time Agency, really.

He just had the time to hide the weapon after he used it, before the damage and the blood-loss consumed him.

x x x


	70. The Power Of Love

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**Chapter 70: The Power Of Love**

x x x

Jack woke to the sound of magical combat.

He found himself at the top of the steep stone steps that surrounded that eerie archway they had seen before. Ron Weasley was standing over him, duelling with a still-masked Death Eater. The Death Eater was winning, however, overpowering Ron's shield spell mere seconds after Jack came to.

"Depulso!" Jack shouted, just raising his arm to about knee-height on his enemy. It managed to knock the Death Eater over and down the steps, finishing with the distinctive crunching sound of breaking bone. "How long was I out?"

"'Bout a minute or two..." Ron gasped, "Good timing, mate."

Jack was just in the process of trying to stand up- shaky as he often felt after death- when a hard kick between the shoulder blades knocked him back down to the stone ground.

Ron grunted, nearby, and Jack just managed to turn his head to see that two Death Eaters had ambushed them in what they had both thought was a brief moment of respite. While one had a heel on Jack's neck and a wand pointed at his head, the other held Ron with his arms twisted hard behind his back.

Around the room, it looked the same. One Death Eater had Ginny by the hair with their wand to her throat, another was holding Luna by the arm wand at her back. Hermione lay unconscious and Neville crouched, unarmed but still defensive, between her and another Death Eater aiming a wand at them.

Harry was in the centre of the room, a few feet from the archway, in a stand-off against Lucius.

"Potter, your race is run." Lucius said coldly, "Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy."

"Let- let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" Harry countered, glancing around the room at his captured friends, but still careful not to take his attention from Lucius either.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter." Lucius pointed out, "If you do not hand over the prophecy, then your friends will be the first to suffer."

"We're dot afraid ob you!" Neville shouted.

Lucius sneered at him, "It's Longbottom, isn't it? Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause... your death will not come as a great shock."

"Longbottom?" Bellatrix repeated, positively gleeful. She and Lucius were the only ones of the seven remaining Death Eaters whose attention was not occupied by holding a prisoner. "Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy."

"_I DOE YOU HAB!_" Neville snarled, standing to face her in spite of the other Death Eater aiming a deadly weapon at him.

Bellatrix, however, gestured dismissively at the other Death Eater, shooing him away as if he was nothing... and the most degrading part of it was that he obeyed. "Let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents." she taunted, "Unless Potter wants to give us the prophecy."

"_DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!_" Neville shouted... to the best of his abilities, with a broken nose. "_DON'D GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!_"

Bellatrix raised her wand to curse him, but he lunged the short distance between them and barrelled into her. Before any of the Death Eaters could react, he punched her hard in the face, then slammed her arm into one of the stone steps in an attempt to disarm her.

Jack kicked out at the Death Eater who was holding Ron, getting him in the ankle, and twisting with all his strength to try to dislodge the one pinning him down.

Ron's captor was startled enough to loosen his grip, and Ron immediately elbowed him in the stomach and retrieved his own wand from the floor, "Stupify!" and the one holding Jack down- which turned out to be Dolohov, again- fell unconscious. Unfortunately not down the stairs this time.

The girls had both tried to escape, as well, but with much less success. "Hold it!" the Death Eater holding Ginny cried out loudly. "_CRUCIO!_"

Everyone stopped at her shriek.

Well, everyone except Jack. "Reducto!"

The curse hit the Death Eater's wand arm, slicing it open, deep. Ginny gasped in shock as she fell to her knees, shaking, and Ron was at her side in an instant. Neville and Harry were both too horrified to keep fighting, and Neville was seized by one of the larger and stronger-looking Death Eaters.

The Death Eater who had cursed Ginny now held his wounded arm up by the elbow and cast another wordless curse at Jack, which he only just dodged.

The distraction might still have been a victory for the Death Eaters, had not several others arrived on the scene at that moment. The Order of the Phoenix. Or more specifically, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Most of the Death Eaters turned on the Order, with Lucius taking on three of them at once.

Jack managed to find the time to breathe when Kingsley drew his assailant into a duel.

But it didn't last long, as Harry ran over to him, "We have to get out of here!"

Jack nodded shakily, "You go, I'll make sure the others are okay."

"But-?"

Jack turned on him sharply, "Go." he ordered.

"Doesn't work on me, Jack." Harry retorted, "We all leave together."

Jack rolled his eyes, but then nodded shakily, "Have it your way."

He scanned the room, gauging the battlefield. It was relatively evenly matched. Lucius and Bellatrix were the strongest fighters of the Death Eaters, taking on more than one Order member at once, while Kingsley was the doing the same against the weaker Death Eaters.

"I'll add to the distraction, you get Ron and Ginny first, then the others." The reason he chose those two was because Ron was such a valuable fighter, but completely useless if he was too worried about his sister to actually fight.

Harry scowled, but nodded in agreement.

Lucius had just managed to defeat Tonks, with a curse that slashed across her abdomen but didn't seem to draw any blood, when Jack shouted out, "Hey, Lucy!"

Predictably, Lucius was not happy with the nickname. He stalked across the open space, and up the steps to where Jack stood, almost casually deflecting a curse from Sirius in the process. "You have quite some nerve, Harkness." he hissed, once they were closer.

"You're outnumbered, now, you know." Jack observed, grinning. Of all the Death Eaters, only three had kept their masks on, and Lucius was one of them.

"You still mean to negotiate?" Lucius asked coldly, his wand aimed at Jack's heart.

"No, but I think you should leave." Jack said calmly, "Run while you can."

Lucius laughed, "I don't think so. Imperio."

And suddenly the world ground to a halt. Nothing really mattered, because all there was in his mind was a sense of peace. No pain, no fear, no care. No reason to fight, no one to die for, nothing but a light floating sensation that was honestly the most calming and relaxing thing he had ever felt.

'_Bring me the prophecy. Take it from Potter, and bring it to me._'

Lucius' command was like a gentle caress to his mind. A light but demanding touch that made him want so desperately to obey. Made him want nothing more than to please his master.

He was dimly aware of taking a step back and turning to descend the steps, with every intention and reason in the world to obey... when suddenly a loud crash and falling stonework dragged him back to reality with just as much agony and anguish as he was always drawn back from death.

He was shocked, both physically and mentally. All his training in telepathic defence, and that spell had totally bypassed everything he knew, and left him reeling when it broke.

He fell to his knees with a loud ringing in his ears, and he looked up to see Lucius stagger backwards and fall to the ground. Lucius had been closer to the blast, and fell with much more force, seeming at least temporarily incapacitated.

"You know, I think I liked that." Jack said, with a faintly lecherous smirk, picking himself up and turning his attention to the rest of the battle.

Harry had done as Jack had asked, and he, Ron and Ginny had then proceeded to help Neville, Luna and Hermione back towards the brain room. Aside from Harry and Ron's Protego spells as they retreated, there were only five active combatants left. Kingsley fought two unmasked Death Eaters who Jack didn't recognise, while Bellatrix duelled quite dramatically with Sirius.

Jack was exhausted. He had died twice tonight, and the Imperius curse made it feel like more. And yet he couldn't quite resist the urge to provoke Bellatrix, just a little more. Honestly, when he had been a Time Agent, she would have been his type.

He took careful aim, and cast a stinging jinx, which hit her right on the ass.

Bellatrix turned on him with a snarl, "Why you little-!" She stormed across the open floor, pausing only to deflect another curse from Sirius and throw one back at him, "I'll teach you a lesson you won't soon forget!"

"Be my guest, gorgeous!"

Sirius, who had followed her, snorted with laughter, "She'll claw your eyes out, kid!"

Jack laughed, "Come on, then. Let's dance!"

"Reducto!" Bellatrix shrieked.

"Depulso!" Jack cast at the same time.

The two spells met in mid-air and caused a dramatic explosion of magical energy, but nothing more.

Then Bellatrix started in on the wordless spells, and Jack decided it was better to dodge than use shields. Sirius got a few shots in, but Bellatrix deflected them. "Couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, sweetheart!" Jack taunted, as he dodged for the fifth time in a row, "Worse than a Storm Trooper in Star Wars!"

Just because she didn't understand the insult, didn't stop her from redoubling her efforts to curse him, and just as Jack was beginning to tire, Sirius caught her with a stunning spell, and it was all over. Jack looked around to see that Kingsley was wounded though the two Death Eaters he had been fighting were now unconscious, and Dumbledore was standing in the doorway looking like the vengeful god that the Doctor tended to impersonate when severely pissed off.

It was over, and they had won.

Except, now Sirius asked, "Where's Harry?"

x x x

They were winning. The Order of the Phoenix, and a few excellent pot-shots from the D.A. ... not to mention Jack being, well, Jack.

They had all but entirely defeated the Death Eaters. And then Dumbledore had shown up as well, just for good measure, and quite dramatically rounded up the few that were weakened or unconscious, easily defeating the two that had been fighting Kingsley Shacklebolt.

There was just one problem.

Harry was just beginning to relish the feel of victory, when he turned to see Lucius Malfoy fleeing the scene moments before Dumbledore could spot him. Harry glowered darkly. No way, not after all the terrible things that man had done. Not after what he did to Ginny in her first year at Hogwarts. No way was he about to just let Malfoy get away like that, when all the others had been caught.

He turned to Neville, "Here, take this. Give it to Dumbledore." and he handed over the prophecy to his dumbstruck friend.

With that safe and accounted for, he turned and charged after Malfoy.

He raced out through the door that led to the the round black room, just in time to see the far door close behind Malfoy and the walls begin to spin.

"No, no no!" he shouted at the walls around him, "Stop, let me out! I have to follow him!"

As if it had been waiting for this command, the room did stop spinning, and a door opened directly in front of Harry, leading him out into the corridor to the lifts. Of course, Lucius had caught one of the two lifts, and just rose out of sight as Harry ran down the corridor. He angrily thumped the call button for the other lift, and seethed with impatience as he was forced to wait for it.

He reached the Atrium just in time to see Lucius disappear in a flash of green flames, through one of the many fireplaces lining the walls.

No pausing for the traditional witty one-liner of parting taunt. Harry almost felt insulted by that.

Until he heard the ominous slamming of metal gates. Gates slammed down over all the Floo grates, and the lift gates rattled loudly. Turning, he saw that chains had woven through them. Harry turned at another loud metallic rattling, to see that the visitors' entrance had decided it was better served up on the street than down here.

In short, the Atrium had sealed itself off. Not Good.

Worse yet, his scar began to burn, the pain rising rapidly to near-blinding agony.

"Voldemort." he hissed, through the pain, barely managing to stay standing.

"Where is my prophecy, Potter?" the cold voice demanded from across the room. Harry didn't look up. Voldemort still thought he had a chance to talking the prophecy out of him before killing him, so he wasn't in mortal danger _yet_.

What had he learned, in all those mental defence lessons? Don't think about elephants, for a start. Harry couldn't help but let out a choked laugh, as that in itself made it hard for him to think of anything important. Just the elephants. Was the point of the elephant line all along? No, he needed to think about something that offended Voldemort. Something that _hurt_.

He thought back to his training against Dementors, in third year. Just like summoning a Patronus. He focused on the happy memory, pushed it to the front of his mind, that and nothing else, and then he looked up.

Voldemort had flinched, and the pain in Harry's scar had all but vanished. It just stung a bit now. "I believe that's OUR prophecy." he said, with the full intention of throwing him off guard.

Voldemort sneered at that, "Hand it over, Potter, and I may even let you hear it before you die." he bit out coldly, through gritted teeth. Whether that was anger... or fear... or possibly even pain?

Harry didn't let himself think about it too much. Happy memory, the honest feeling of being loved by his parents. "Maybe if you asked nicely..." he said, smiling faintly... in part at the fact this was actually working and really upsetting his enemy, but even more so from the memory he was using to defend himself from Voldemort's mind.

"I do believe, Harry... that for Tom, that was 'nice'." Dumbledore had somehow bypassed all the sealed gates, and was now standing off to Harry's right, facing Voldemort.

Harry held the happy memory as best he could, while complaining, "Aww, Professor! His name's the sore point that makes him curse people. I was being so careful to annoy him without using it."

Voldemort spluttered indignantly, "How dare you!" he snarled, not quite sure which one he was addressing, by the look of things... but then he turned, aiming his wand at Dumbledore, "Give me the prophecy, old man, and I will leave in peace."

"Are we really meant to believe that?" Harry asked sceptically. The wand turned on him, and his first thought was back to Quirrel's death, his mother's love saving him from death for a second time... and he focused hard on that, meeting Voldemort's eyes. 'Want to make it three for three?'

Voldemort reacted as if physically struck... hard. He stumbled backwards in shock at the force of the telepathic assault, clutching his head in evident pain. Suddenly, he looked... pitiful. "You're pathetic." Harry said coldly, and Voldemort looked up to meet his eyes once more, and recoiled yet again.

Pity, it seemed, was just as offensive as love.

"The prophecy is beyond your reach, now, Tom." Dumbledore said calmly, raising his wand to strike, "For you would not dare seek it where I have sent it."

A flick of his wand, and a spell fired at Voldemort... who was far too fast, and seemed to disappear into thin air.

The residual pain in Harry's scar, which had remained in spite of his mental shields, now vanished with him.

"He's gone." Harry said quietly, suddenly very tired.

He had kind of expected an epic showdown. He hadn't expected Voldemort to be _that_ much of a coward. Then again, Jack had often corrected Gryffindors in the D.A. who called his housemates cowards. He preferred to call it a 'tactical retreat'. Still, whatever you called it, it felt kind of... anti-climactic.

"Well done, Harry." Dumbledore said kindly, "You performed admirably."

"Yeah, but he'll be back, won't he." Harry said, carefully not making the statement a question, in spite of how he worded it.

Dumbledore sounded quite nonchalant, as he agreed, "Naturally."

x x x

"Hey, Minister! Minister Fudge!" Gwen shouted, running after Cornelius Fudge, who had just stormed into the Ministry Atrium in a blind rage, "Here. Stress tonic, sir." she said, handing him an innocuous bottle of clear liquid.

"And who are you?" he asked her, not stopping as he passed the security checkpoint and the two suspects came into sight.

"Oh, I'm new. Work experience. Ask Arthur Weasley, I'm mostly doing paperwork in his department." Gwen lied fluently.

Out of all the team, she and Owen had been the early bloomers. Tosh still looked like a first-or-second year, and Ianto and Jack both looked like the thirteen and fourteen year olds (respectively) that they were apparently meant to be in this timeline. Meanwhile, Owen had sprouted a foot or so during this school year, and Gwen was now an inch or two taller than Jack. Between the slightly improved height and the development of her chest, she could just about pass for sixteen or seventeen.

It was enough to fool Fudge at least... although that really wasn't saying that much from what she'd heard of the man. He just shrugged and downed half the bottle in one go, not even breaking stride.

"You know, Dumbledore's innocent of the charges Professor Umbridge claimed against him." she continued in the same efficient tone.

Fudge stopped in his tracks and thought about it, "Well, I suppose... would be somewhat out of character for him. Indeed, you're right of course."

"And Voldemort's back. Alive and well and all that evil stuff." Gwen added brightly.

"Oh dear." Fudge said with a deep scowl, raising a hand and wiping the sudden cold sweat from his brow. "Well, that's... that's uh... terrible news. I..."

Gwen grinned and all but skipped over to where Harry and Dumbledore stood, leaving Fudge on the far side of the Atrium statue, stewing in his own juices. "I think now would be the perfect time for Minister Fudge to hear a few harsh truths." she told them, winking at Harry, "I'll see you later. Ianto's giving out 'refreshments' to all the Auror staff who got called in on this, and he _ordered_ me to make sure Jack was okay."

"He's downstairs, I think." Harry said, grinning faintly. He looked terribly exhausted, but still happy. Looked like the whole battle thing had gone well.

She wondered if this was one of those 'everybody lives' days Jack liked to talk about. She really hoped so.

"Thanks." she said vaguely, before quickly making her way over to the lifts.

Once downstairs, she found a group of people in uniform robes with badges declaring them to be Aurors, dealing with a dozen or so bound and gagged wizards- and one witch- in black. "These're the Death Eaters, then?" she asked, skirting carefully around them.

"And you are?" an especially intimidating man with a gold earring asked, blocking her path. He reminded her somewhat of Samuel L. Jackson... or that bloke from Stargate who seemed to communicate primarily through ominous looming and staring.

"Gwen Cooper." she answered promptly. Something about this man just made her bow to his authority. "I came here with Dumbledore, and I just wanted to see Jack Harkness."

But then he smiled warmly, "He's right in there." he gestured into a side room, "And we're all grateful to you for warning us about this attack."

Gwen smiled with pride at that, and nodded, "Thank you." before heading into the room he had indicated.

It turned out to be a fairly spacious office, very much like one you might find in any normal Muggle business environment... if not for the fact that the walls were made of old stone, adding that vaguely gothic feel that the wizarding world was so fond of.

All the chairs had been pulled away from their desks, into a huddle in the middle of the room, and she could see Jack sitting off to one side of this group watching with amusement as Ron Weasley held the centre of attention, telling an animated tale to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood were sitting near Ron, and occasionally piped up to add their own opinions, as well.

Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger, whom Gwen had expected to see here, were conspicuously absent.

She made her way quickly over to Jack, and pulled up a chair next to him, asking, "Hey, how'd it go?"

"We won." Jack said, sounding terribly tired. He slowly turned to actually look at her, and she just KNEW he must have died during the fight. She could see it in his eyes. "I've had worse nights."

"Where are Neville and Hermione?" she asked, concerned. Sure, the other children seemed cheerful enough that she probably shouldn't worry too much. If someone had actually _died_ died, they wouldn't be so enthusiastic about telling the tale, but she still worried.

"St Mungo's. The medi-wizards just left a few minutes ago." Jack answered, "Hermione looked pretty bad, but they said she'd make a full recovery."

"Well, that's good." Gwen said, slouching back in her chair a bit, "I suppose there's the whole official debriefing thing to go, still? Aurors and all that?"

"Of course."

Gwen sulked a bit more. Knowing official procedure the way she did, that did not sound like fun. "We'll be here for hours."

x x x


	71. A Terrible And Dangerous Thing

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**Chapter 71: The Truth Is A Terrible And Dangerous Thing**

x x x

The interesting thing about the Clarity Concoction was that it didn't require you to _know_ you were telling the truth. So long as you told what was in fact the truth to the drinker, they would recognise it as such. You could believe it was a lie when you said it, but the drinker of this potion would know the difference regardless of what anyone else might think.

That was why it was such a rarely known potion. It wasn't difficult to make, it was just so bad for everybody who lied for a living. Which was almost everyone. Between generations of Slytherins scheming, centuries of the Ministry of Magic manipulating, and decades of the press plagiarising, nobody in the Wizarding World really wanted to tell or hear the truth about much of anything anymore.

Most unfortunately for them, there were only three ways to hide the truth from anyone who drank this potion. A Confundus charm, so they didn't understand what they were being told... a memory charm (or, one would assume, Retcon), so they would forget... or the Fidelius Charm, so the truth may not be told in the first place.

In other words, a lot of people were going to get screwed over by this plan of theirs. Not only would everyone believe Dumbledore was innocent, but anyone who drank the potion would also see every truth put to them for the rest of the day, including '_Voldemort's back_', '_Sirius is innocent_', '_Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger are meant to be together_', '_The Quibbler was right! The Minister of Magic really _ is_ abusing goblins_', and '_Sorry, Luna, there's no such thing as Crumple-Horked Snorkaks... Nargles, on the other hand..._'.

The Torchwood team honestly considered this a bonus, rather than a negative side effect.

The tricky part was distribution.

Hogwarts would be easy. Ianto had already asked the House Elves nicely to spike everybody's drinks in the morning. Nobody in the D.A. had argued with the fact that he honestly _could_ poison- or otherwise drug- the whole school if he was so inclined, so you do not piss him off.

He had even managed to convince the Aurors tonight that he was just the tea-boy Owen often called him, and no of course there weren't any dangerous chemicals in the tea, why would there be?

The problem would be the general public... but he had been thinking about it for a while now, and the most logical choice was to extort or bribe- or maybe even politely ask- the Weasley twins into marketing some kind of food or drink spiked with the stuff. He sorely wanted to call them now and ask them, but the comms had become unreliable for the moment.

It was due to this knowledge that he was surprised when his commlink beeped and Tosh's voice sounded in his ear, "I've got a fix on the comm. Maybe someone could teleport back up to Hogwarts for an update?"

"Copy that, Tosh." Ianto answered, before turning and leaving the group of Aurors to whom he had just fed Clarity Concoction.

As he left, he just overheard the beginning of an argument, no doubt instigated by the fact they could all now tell when the others were lying. Oh, the Ministry was in for a fun day.

On his way across the Atrium to the elevators, he ran into a young woman in Auror robes, with purple hair. Even in the wizarding world, that was unusual, and could probably be interpreted as a sign of rebellious youth. "Oh wotcher, are you with Harry Potter and that lot, then?" she asked him.

"No, I'm with Jack Harkness and _that_ lot." he retorted, deadpan.

She looked a bit taken aback, but recovered from it pretty quickly, "Right, well... same thing now, isn't it?" she said brightly, "My name's Tonks, I'm with the Order of the Phoenix. Your friends are just down on level nine, there."

"Order of the Phoenix, that's Dumbledore's fan-club, right?" Ianto asked.

"We're the ones who've been fighting against Voldemort this whole time, yes."

"I think we've got a lead on where your pet Dark Lord might be." he said, smirking faintly at the surprise on her face, "Our friend, Tosh, traced a signal. She didn't want to tell us where to over an unsecure line of communication, but if you get up to Hogwarts really quickly she might be able to tell you in time for you to raid the place."

"Really?" Tonks asked, looking both dubious and impressed, "Well, if you're right, this is too good a chance to give up, and I've not much else to do now the battle's done, so I guess I can check that out."

Ianto nodded, "Good luck."

Tonks smiled at him, "Thanks."

x x x

"Never seen a child fight like that." Alastor growled in quite the insistent tone, "Knew exactly what he was doing."

"He did show a fair amount of talent, yes." Kingsley admitted, "But that's not to say-"

"That was _experience_." Alastor cut across him, "The boy's seen battle before, you mark my words. You can never substitute for the real thing, and I know it when I see it."

"At his age, I somehow doubt it." Remus said carefully, "However, I do agree that he is... unusual."

"At the least." Alastor snarked, letting the argument drop but not conceding the point in the least.

It was to these words that Albus Dumbledore arrived in the level nine corridor outside the Department of Mysteries. He had attempted to send Harry back to Hogwarts, only to be met with absolute refusal and the determination to see his friends and ensure that they were all alive and well.

So it was that while Albus might have shown some more tact in the enquiry, Harry blurted out, "Who're you talking about?" Quite loudly, at that. The three Order members exchanged the sort of guilty looks of small children caught plotting mischief, before Harry simply shrugged, "You know what, I think I can guess. It's Jack, right?"

"Well, Harry, you have to admit." Remus said kindly, "He had shown some rather unusual qualities over the last three years."

"Like what?" Harry demanded, defensive as he always was of those he considered friends.

The standoff between the three adults unwilling to give information and one determined teenager staring them down lasted only a few seconds, before Remus caved in and began, "During my tenure as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I have overheard him speak knowledgeably of many things that children his age either wouldn't care about or simply shouldn't, from detailed accounts of Muggle military history to positing plausible theories on inter-species cross-breeding. And that was just in the first week."

"Military history, you say?" Alastor asked with interest.

"During his second class, when I told the students to work in groups, he spent twenty minutes telling his fellow Slytherins about a battle during what Muggles refer to as World War One, in which he claimed his great grandfather participated." Remus explained, "I researched it later, and found that the raw facts were the accurate, however Harkness embellished it with the sort of vivid details that usually come from experience."

"Or hearing the tale often enough to memorise." Kingsley added pointedly.

"He fought like a pro, in there tonight, Kingsley." Alastor pointed out, "Even you can't deny that. It took twelve of our best to catch the Lestrange witch last time, and he kept up with her for nearly five full minutes, with minimal help from Black."

"I think we can all agree." Albus cut across them both, before the disagreement could escalate, "That Jack Harkness is indeed an unusual case. However, that does not mean that we should treat him differently from any other Hogwarts student, unless he chooses to prove himself a threat."

Harry turned on him in an instant, "Threat?" he demanded angrily, "You don't think he would-"

"I have no reason to believe it, for the time being, Harry." Albus assured him, "I am simply unable to overlook the possibility completely."

"You listen to Dumbledore." Alastor agreed with a nod, "You've always got to be prepared for the worst, just in case. Constant vigilance, I say!"

"Indeed." Albus agreed.

Harry was sulking, now. The dark and disapproving emotion radiated off him in a way that was impossible to ignore. It was obvious that Harry trusted Jack Harkness quite completely, now.

Albus himself, however, was still unsure how to deal with the Slytherin boy. At times, he honestly appeared like a normal child, innocent and carefree. Then there were the unguarded moments, when he believed no one was paying attention, where he would seem much wiser than his years, wistful and sad. And yet other times, when he felt cornered or confrontational, where he seemed like a truly dangerous creature. Albus has seen a glimpse of it when he chose to recruit Harkness to teach Harry to defend his mind... and Severus had since informed him of an even darker side to the boy.

All the signs pointed to an old soul, and far more knowledge than one of his age should reasonably have acquired, yet his behaviour thus far leaned towards a protective nature rather than a destructive one.

Still, as Alastor often said, one could never be too sure.

In an attempt to appease Harry, Albus suggested, "Perhaps we should check on your classmates, Harry. I believe there is much still to discuss, after the events of tonight."

Harry was clearly not convinced, but at least he did concede not to argue further, following Kingsley as he led the way into an office to one side.

Naturally, all conversation ceased as soon as Albus and Harry entered the room.

"Mr Longbottom and Miss Granger have been moved to St Mungo's, but they were both in stable condition, and will be back at Hogwarts by morning." Remus assured Harry as he scanned the group seated in the office, which consisted of Sirius, who had been talking to Ronald and Ginerva Weasley, and Luna Lovegood.

Jack Harkness, Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones had been talking amongst themselves separately, in much lower voices. Gwen sat close to Jack's left, while Ianto stood behind him, hands on his shoulders. Both were blatantly protective of him, like a closely knit pack of wolves defending their wounded leader. It was strange, in the greater part, for the fact that he did not look wounded at all. In fact he looked quite pleased with himself.

"What about the prophecy?" Harry asked.

"The prophecy is gone, Harry." Albus assured him.

"But what did it say?" he insisted.

"I do not believe now is the time for that." Albus pointed out carefully, "I do promise, however, that I will tell you everything, once I can be certain that we are not overheard."

"So you _know_ what it said?" Jack asked suddenly. Albus turned to meet his eyes, only to find a defiant stare and a very solid mental shield in the image of a cold steel wall.

"Yes, Mr Harkness, indeed I do." he answered simply. There was no reason to conceal that fact.

"But I saw you destroy it." Jack insisted, "None of us activated it since Harry took it down off the shelf."

Silence reigned for a few seconds, and just as Albus was prepared to answer that accusation, Gwen Cooper spoke up instead, "So you already knew what was in this prophecy, and the whole point of this exercise was to keep it away from You-Know-Who?" she asked blankly, staring at his nose instead of meeting his eyes. He couldn't have made the contact necessary to read her if he tried, and he was quite certain she did this on purpose, "They why not smash it right away?"

"It's what we would have done." Ianto said, nodding, "Then leave a fake for him to keep looking for."

"Yeah!" Harry agreed, quite loudly, "And another thing, I asked you before to tell my friends what I couldn't know in case Voldemort tried to read my mind." He gestured to a rather startled Ron, as well as Jack, both of whom made it clear by their expressions- Ron's dumbfounded, and Jack's suspicious- that they were unaware of any such arrangement, "This is a perfect example! I needed NOT to come down here, you should have told them to warn me off if I tried!"

Ron and Jack exchanged a look. Jack shrugged and Ron spoke up, "'Mione and I would have stopped you if we'd known what this was really about, mate."

"We all knew it was a trap." Jack pointed out shaking his head, "We came here because we believed someone we cared about was in danger, not because of the prophecy. None of us even heard of any prophecy about Harry until the Death Eaters showed up demanding we hand it over."

Albus gave Harry a curious look, and was pleased to find an honest answer forthcoming instead of the usual evasiveness, "I had a vision of Voldemort. It showed this place, and he was torturing Sirius. I- I heard his voice." Harry turned to stare at Sirius with confusion.

"This was most likely an illusion, created by Lord Voldemort, in order to lure you here." Albus explained calmly.

"No. We heard his voice, too." Jack said, looking at Sirius with curiosity, now, "Over the commlink."

Albus wondered only briefly what this 'commlink'- evidently some form of communication- might be, before Sirius answered somewhat blankly, "I lost it about a week ago."

Harry scowled at this, and Albus was concerned by it also. If the object was taken from Grimmauld Place, then that meant that someone who knew the location of their safe house had betrayed them and given this 'commlink' to Lord Voldemort. The uneasy silence, made it clear that they had all reached the same conclusion.

Then, quite vehemently, Sirius exclaimed as if it were a foul word, "Kreacher! That thieving little toe-rag, I ought to gut him!"

"I'm sure Owen could lend you a suitably blunt instrument." Ianto Jones said blandly, as if such insinuations of violence were perfectly usual and acceptable behaviour. Albus began to wonder if this was normal behaviour for the usually unobtrusive Hufflepuff boy, or if it was a result of the strange influence of the young Mr Harkness.

"I prefer serrated." Sirius replied, with almost manic cheer.

Albus cleared his throat pointedly, "I believe it is time that we leave this place. It is almost dawn, and I am quite sure the Ministry would like their office back."

Sirius sulked, "Back to H.Q. for me, then?" he grumbled, folding his arms and outright pouting.

"Hang on." Gwen said brightly, "I think today would be a really good day to appeal your sentence."

It was quite fascinating how all the children perked up at this suggestion. "You did it, then?" Ronald asked, grinning.

"We did indeed." Gwen said, positively beaming, "I got the Minister of Magic myself, personally."

"Bloody brilliant!"

x x x

Two hours later, the entire D.A.- minus Neville and Hermione, who were still at St Mungo's- assembled in their hidden room on the seventh floor.

"So how'd it go with Dumbledore?" Ron asked, as Harry finally joined them.

"The prophecy's a bit rubbish, really." Harry admitted, slumping into a chair that probably hadn't been there until they noticed it was needed, "It said that Voldemort would 'mark' the one who could defeat him." he pushed back his hair to show the scar, "I wasn't the only one it could have been, but Voldemort heard part of the prophecy and thought I was the one to go after."

"Who else?" Jack asked. He and his friends were- as usual- clustered in a little group slightly separate from the rest of the students. It was like a tight-knit little clique, they were friendly alright, but you just knew there were some things that only they knew about and they liked it that way.

Harry's eyes scanned the room for a moment, then he shook his head, "Not my place to say, is it?"

Jack just shrugged, also glancing around at the other students there. "Gotta love those self-fulfilling prophecies, huh?"

"What?" Ron asked, turning on him with confusion. Sure, he had proved himself pretty well in the Department of Mysteries, and Ron now kind of understood the stories his parents had told him, about how you could really grow to trust a person if you had to fight alongside them. Didn't mean he _completely_ trusted Harkness yet.

In fact, he got the impression, even from the way Jack's friends behaved, that you should never _completely_ trust him. Or either of the other two boys, either. The girls seemed okay, though.

"If Voldemort hadn't acted on the prophecy, it wouldn't have come true." Jack explained, sounding like he thought this was a great game, "In fact, you still have the choice to avoid him completely and prevent it from ever coming true."

"But it said the one he 'marked' would be the only one who could defeat him." Harry said blankly.

Jack laughed. Outright laughed at that. "Gryffindors!" he snickered, only to be smacked upside the head by Owen Harper.

"Oi!" Harper snapped, "I'll have you know, we're not all suicidally brave, thank you very much."

"I have three words for that, Owen." Gwen said bluntly, "Weevil Fight Club."

Owen glowered and sulked, grumbling, "Bollocks."

"Language, Owen." Toshiko chided, "There are children present... most of whom are older than us."

Owen sulked deeply, and Ron couldn't help but snicker. When these guys really dropped their guards, they could be downright funny. The problem was, they all did have that guarded behaviour, as if they all had a bit of Slytherin in them somewhere.

"On the bright side, we managed to recover the stolen commlink." Toshiko observed, "Or rather, the Order did. Unfortunately, the only other thing they found at the scene was a cauldron with the remains of Polyjuice potion encrusted on it."

"What's Polyjuice potion?" Colin Creevey chirped up.

"It turns you into someone else for an hour." Harry said in a shocked sort of monotone. His eyes had gone wide, and Ron knew exactly why. They had used Polyjuice potion to convince him that Sirius had really been in danger. "Makes you look and sound exactly like them, all you need is a piece of whoever you want to be. Even a bit of hair is enough."

"Hair gets tangled up in these things really easily." Gwen put in, pushing her hair back behind her ear.

Ron still wasn't entirely sure about what these commlinks were, only that he knew the twins had a pair, Harry had one, so did Sirius, and they were some Muggle form of long-distance communication. He now got a good look at the thing in her ear, and was amazed at how small and sleek it was. You'd barely notice it, especially with the hair in the way.

He'd had no idea Muggles were that good at making stuff that neat.

"My point was-" Jack said to Harry in a too-careful tone, "-that telling the future is never completely clear, and free will plays a huge part when dealing with prophecies like this. You can always choose to try to change things... although it's not always possible to succeed."

"You sound like you're talking from experience." Ron said sceptically.

Jack turned to give him a deadly cold look that sent a chill down his spine, "Time travel, Ron. It works on the same principle. And yes, I speak from experience."

Ernie Macmillan snorted, "When did you ever time travel, Harkness?"

As one, Gwen, Owen, Toshiko, and Ianto all doubled over laughing, as if this honest question was the greatest joke ever told. Jack was clearly fighting not to laugh as well, "Oh, you don't want to ask that one."

Ron oddly felt the urge _not_ to tell anyone else about the Time Turners. As he glanced at his sister, and then to Luna and Harry, he realised that they were thinking the same thing. Strange, that. A Slytherin stole two valuable and dangerous artefacts from the Department of Mysteries, you'd think they'd have been a bit more concerned, yet even Ron himself wasn't too bothered by it for some reason.

Compared to Voldemort, though, most things weren't really such a big deal anymore... and you never know, having a friend with a Time Turner nobody else knew about could always come in handy.

And just when did he start to think of Jack Harkness as a friend?

x x x

On the day before their final exam, the climax of the grand plan to utterly destroy Dolores Umbridge was finally ready.

It was all carefully prepared. Really, it wasn't often that Torchwood got the time to plan ahead like this, usually it was all improvisation. Owen and Tosh were the ones who really shone at the planning, coordinating with the twins beautifully.

Umbridge had been slowly beaten down over the last month. While the Malfoys had quite impressively tied up the courts to hold off their own trial, the entire school had eagerly contributed to Dolores' mental deterioration. Weakening her will and nerve, the two key mental skills that would be capable of helping one to lie in spite of the potion.

Now, it was time.

Everyone made it to lunch in time for this show, they all knew it was coming, even the other teachers had an inkling.

Absolute silence fell as they all watched the tense and slightly twitching Professor Umbridge take a delicate sip of the tea, which Ianto had arranged to have spiked with Veritaserum.

Five tense seconds passed. Then Owen pointedly picked up his fork.

That was the signal, and a series of loud bangs echoed through the room, flashes of brilliant fireworks in all four house colours flared up over their respective tables, with purple flashing over the staff table. The lights danced and sparked around the room, quickly homing in on Umbridge... and when the dust settled she was bound by what looked like ropes of white light, and a spotlight lit from nowhere, directly over her head.

"Dolores Umbridge!" a magically distorted voice echoed through the hall, "You are hereby charged with abuse of your position, ordering the unauthorised execution of innocent wizards, falsifying evidence... and suspicion of either sleeping with, or casting the Imperius curse on, the Minister of Magic."

The fact the other students laughed led to the conclusion that they just assumed she was sleeping with him.

"How do you plead?" the voice demanded.

Jack wasn't quite sure who had been chosen to speak for them, but he did see that as well as the twins- who had been responsible for the fireworks and binding spells- Ianto and Draco were both absent from the party... so it was probably one of them. The magical distortion was too strong to even allow an accent to get through.

Umbridge stammered in horror. Nobody moved, not even the other teachers.

McGonagall was eyeing the room, trying to find someone who might be speaking- the spell _did_ require the caster to speak into the tip of their wand like a microphone. Snape had raised a sceptical eyebrow at the Imperius-or-sleeping-with remark, eyes darted right to Jack, but when it was obvious that Jack wasn't the one talking he just regarded his stricken co-worker with morbid amusement.

Filch took a step into the room, but a second spotlight alighted on him, "Stay out of this, or be counted an accessory!" the voice snapped at him, and he backed off. Silence for another second, then the voice repeated, "How do you plead?"

"N-not-"

"To each individual count!" the voice interrupted her, "Do you admit to forcing students to write lines using binding blood-magic?"

Umbridge bit her lip, but then seemed unable to resist the potion, as she answered, "Y-yes."

"Do you admit to giving the order for two Dementors to attack Little Whinging, Surrey, on the second of August, of last year?"

The revolted and contorted expression on her face was honestly satisfying, given the things she had done this year. Especially as she bitterly spat out the word, "Yes."

The assembled students all gasped and murmured at this revelation. Jack met Harry's eyes across the hall, to see that he honestly looked surprised... as if he had expected Voldemort to be the culprit.

"And have you, between the end of the Triwizard Tournament last year and last Friday night, seen any evidence that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might possibly- however unlikely you considered it- have returned?"

"Yes." Umbridge answered bitterly.

"And did you cover up this evidence?"

"Yes!" this time she sounded almost proud, "Coincidence that could cause widespread panic! Potter is a liar and an attention-seeker! He had to be silenced!"

The voice seemed to hesitate, then snorted with derisive laughter, "Yeah, right. Potter couldn't lie convincingly to save his life." Well that settled it, this had to be Draco talking. "What about Fudge? Did you ever _influence_ him in any _unnatural_ way?"

Umbridge huffed, "I have the utmost devotion to Cornelius, I would never-"

"Oh, first name basis, you do like him." the voice- definitely Draco- crowed mockingly.

"I have never- I wouldn't- he didn't- I-"

"Honestly, if it wasn't Imperius, we _really_ don't want to hear about it." Draco interrupted her horrified and humiliated babbling. "I think we're done here."

And with that, the doors opened to reveal a group of six Aurors waiting in the hall. Their leader griped rather loudly, "You know, if we knew who did this, we'd have to arrest them as well."

"That's probably why it was anonymous, Kingsley." another Auror pointed out.

"Gotta love them vigilantes, huh?" Owen asked in an undertone, grinning all along. The fact he was at the Slytherin table at all was honestly unnerving some of the first years... but none of them dared protest. They all knew that he was the one who had led this rebellion, and torn Umbridge down. They all knew that he was Jack's friend, and Jack held more political weight within the house than anyone else but Draco. "All my favourite comic book characters were on the wrong side of the law."

The Aurors led a humiliated and defeated Dolores Umbridge away. She didn't even try to resist. In fact... she was crying. It might almost seem sad, if it weren't for the fact that she so deservedly brought this fate upon herself.

x x x


	72. Death By Torchwood

x x x

**Chapter 72: Death By Torchwood**

x x x

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It was the commonly held belief within the D.A. that this headline led directly to the Ministry reinstating Albus Dumbledore as headmaster, and the return to the rightful status quo... considering the extra secret ingredient in all the free samples, of course.

With Umbridge convicted of precisely the crimes Lucius Malfoy had initially accused her of, he was acquitted of all charges of sedition against the Ministry. The fact that he never took his mask off in the Department of Mysteries meant that he was still considered an upstanding member of the Wizarding community. For the time being, at least.

All in all, things had settled down since the night in the Department of Mysteries, and life had gone back to normal. Or as normal as it ever got at Hogwarts.

On the last day of term, exam results came back for the third years.

Jack had failed his final Divination test by claiming that in the year 2059 there would be Muggles on Mars. The Centaur Firenze did not quite seem to grasp the concept of space travel, it seemed.

Owen aced Potions, to the point where Snape actually commented on his paper, in a vaguely positive manner.

Tosh did best in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, naturally. She was now as good as fluent in certain dialects of the runes, and could probably solve arithmantic formulae in her sleep. Typical Tosh, really.

Ianto was noted for being the first student in almost two hundred years to get full marks in a History of Magic test. He even found and pointed out a misspelling of the name of a goblin featured highly in the last rebellion, on the test paper.

Gwen actually failed Muggle studies, because the paper was so outdated and archaic. Her knowledge of true nature of Muggles was completely at odds with the set texts.

The school year was coming to an end once more, and still the Torchwood team were no closer to learning why they were even here.

Oh, Jack had a fair idea now of _how _ they were there. Honestly, the prophecy might not have been clear on the reason but the Bad Wolf was literally omniscient and omnipotent. She existed for mere minutes, but saw and commanded all of time and space.

Jack remembered the Doctor telling him, during the Year That Never Was, that she as asked 'why do they cry'. He had thought for some time now that she might well have tried to change more than just the Dalek invasion and Jack's death, and he honestly wouldn't be at all surprised if she had watched his entire life after his resurrection before even deciding to do it.

Not that that helped them understand the situation any better.

x x x

On the train ride home, that was when things got... interesting.

The Torchwood team had managed to squeeze into the same train compartment as Harry, Ron and Hermione. This did involve Tosh sitting on Owen's lap, in spite of Owen's vocal protests about inappropriate behaviour. Gwen had smacked him upside the head and told him to enjoy it while he had the chance.

The team sat opposite Harry and his friends, all rather tightly together, while Hermione had shoved Ron over to the window and leaned against him to allow Harry to be the only one with any room to sit comfortably.

"So you're...?" Hermione asked, staring at Jack.

"Yeah."

"You can't...?"

"That's right."

"And we can't talk about it either, which is just a bundle of laughs." Owen added snarkily.

Hermione scowled, "I still don't see how it's possible, especially without dark magic."

"But you drank the Clarity Concoction." Ianto pointed out, managing not to look at all embarrassed by leaning on Jack's shoulder in the confined space, "You know that's not how it works."

"It's still just so..."

"Bizarre?" Owen offered, "Freaky, weird, unnatural and impossible?"

"Well... yes." Hermione mumbled a bit sulkily. She never did seem to like things that didn't sit neatly into categories.

Before the conversation could continue, however, the door slid open to reveal Draco Malfoy. Oddly alone.

"You." he snarled, pointing at Jack.

Silence rang through the carriage for a moment, before Harry snorted and asked, "And what am I, chopped liver?"

Draco glowered at him, "Oh, I'll get you later."

Jack laughed, standing up and moving to the door, "And your little dog, too." he added, causing the entire team, and Harry and Hermione, to laugh, and leaving Ron with a confused scowl on his face, as he slid the door closed behind him. He leaned back against it, and asked Draco, "What's the matter?"

"You were there with Potter and his lackeys, last Friday." Draco hissed angrily, "You betrayed us!"

"I did no such thing." Jack retorted, defiantly folding his arms and staring down the older Slytherin, "You knew which side I would choose, right from the start."

Draco hesitated, "I didn't think... you'd choose so soon." he sounded almost wounded.

"Hey, this doesn't mean we can't still be friends." Jack said, in the soothing tone he usually reserved for spurned lovers he was using the exact same line on. "I asked you before, do you know what _you_ want out of this impending war?"

Draco scowled, "I don't want there to have to be a war." he muttered darkly, folding his arms and shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, in a very defensive stance.

"One of the wisest things I've ever heard you say." Jack said with a smirk, "Then again, most of the time you're playing up to the rest of the Death Eater spawn in our house."

Draco's answering glower was only half-hearted, "They wouldn't even care about me if it weren't for my father." he admitted quietly, "Sometimes wonder why I bother."

"Because you're a craven attention seeker." Jack said in an amicable way, rather than any attempt to insult the delicate balance of his friend's mood. "Something I could have told you within the first minute of meeting you, I might add."

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes, "I don't know how you manage it, offending half our house and still suffering none of the consequences. By rights, the Quidditch team should have maimed you half a dozen times, not even accounting for... political differences."

"I'm just that charming."

"And you've talked me out of hexing you today, too." Draco pointed out, "Because you know I was going to."

"Of course you were." Jack agreed, very matter-of-fact. He had been quite sure it had been Draco's intention from the beginning of this conversation.

However, when Draco's eyes drifted to the door behind Jack, he shook his head, "Just leave it for now, Draco. You have absolutely no comprehension of what any of them have been through this week, and I sincerely hope you never do."

Draco met Jack's eyes in an oddly sad way, "He will kill you all, you know. No prophecy can make _Potter_ into the saviour they think he'll be."

Jack smiled crookedly, "Never underestimate your enemies, Draco. Or your friends."

x x x

It had been three years now, and Jack still didn't know what to make of the five kids who had appeared in his living room and claimed to be the future of Torchwood. Sure, the one who seemed to be his future self de-aged had also recently proved himself immortal... but that didn't mean Jack had to like dealing with them.

He didn't dislike it, either, though. They may be a lot more self-sufficient than the average child their age, but it still felt good to have someone to look after.

Right now, he had been waiting for them to get back from Hogwarts, and was mildly disturbed to hear his future self humming a song from the Wizard of Oz. Specifically, 'Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead'... quite loudly, too.

"I miss something interesting?" he asked, as the door opened and the five of them piled into the apartment, already busily getting out books and bits of tech, both alien and magical.

"Yeah. Check your email, love." Jack's future-self said cheerfully, "This is definitely a date to remember."

"He's been humming that the whole train ride home." Owen complained, "Not a bloody clue why, either."

Jack frowned, and went to check his computer.

An email from Torchwood was waiting for him. He gave his future self a sceptical look, but then read the email.

Carol Stevenson had been found dead that very morning.

Her replacement, Maximilian Stillwell- about the only member of that organisation to _ever_ treat Jack like a human being- was calling him in to help with the investigation into her death, for which they had yet to find any recognisable cause.

"Oh _YES!_" he cheered, startling the other four kids, while his future-self just grinned brightly.

"I may not remember how she died." his future self said, grinning, "But when is indelibly imprinted in my memory."

"Good riddance!" Jack said too brightly, "I gotta get into work to help bury her forever!"

He had already shut down the computer, and was in the process of putting his coat on when Gwen interrupted, "Who died?" Of course she would be Little Miss Morality. Suck all the fun out of the occasion.

"You explain, kid." he ordered instead, leaving the apartment before they could question him further.

x x x

Jack watched his past-self leave the room, and rolled his eyes, completely unsurprised at having the buck passed to him. He took a deep breath and turned to face the others, "Ianto... you must have read Carol Stevenson's files?"

"Yes..." he said warily.

"And?" Jack prompted.

"She was Torchwood's leader for nine years." Ianto said, clearly displeased at being the one to have to explain, "The circumstances of her death were put down to natural causes, heart attack, even though she was only thirty-six. Her time in charge was marked by the highest death toll of both alien prisoners AND turnover of Torchwood employees since 1903."

"Another wonderful date." Jack interrupted with morbid cheer, "November sixth, Emily Holroyd died. Carol idolised that woman. They shared a complete lack of all the basic elements of common decency... empathy, compassion... an aversion to disembowelling puppies. Carol spent most of her time trying to restore Torchwood Three to the 'good old days' where they killed aliens on sight."

"So you're _happy_ that she died?" Gwen asked, stunned.

"Because they both took pleasure in torturing- ah, sorry, I mean experimenting on me." Jack said bitterly.

Silence descended on the small apartment for several seconds, before Owen shrugged, "I'm with Jack on this one. Never knew her, and I'll take his word that she had it coming."

Gwen continued to scowl, but the others seemed to agree with Owen and went back to their work.

"It seems a bit cruel..." Gwen finally said, "Celebrating someone's death."

"What would you do if you found Bilis Manger dead?" Jack asked bluntly.

Gwen blinked, "Okay. You win."

x x x

Meanwhile, at the Torchwood Hub.

"Just dead?" Jack asked, frowning at Carol's body in the middle of their autopsy room. "No cause? No alien energy fields or strange marks on the body, nothing at all?"

She had been pretty in life, short blonde hair, very cold grey eyes and a perpetual scowl that didn't detract from her looks at all. Her body was untouched by anything that might disfigure it. Only the pallor beneath her fake tan, and the lack of breathing really showed that she was dead at all.

"Absolutely nothing." Clarissa Wash- their perky, red-haired, slightly sociopathic but mostly harmless medical expert- said quite dramatically, "I've run scans for everything on our database... then made up new scans and still found nothing. She just... stopped living."

"Not that I'm disappointed..." Jack muttered, "But this seems suspicious."

"No kidding. This is why we called you." Max said, having snuck up on Jack, and now placing a hand on his shoulder, utterly failing in his attempt to startle the immortal.

Max was the kind of person that the Time Agency would have eagerly slaughtered a planet to recruit. Calculating and willing to make the tough decisions, generally friendly and easy to like, with brown hair, brown eyes, average height, average build, and one of those generic, non-descript and innocent, face that could have been in a boy-band if he was a decade or so younger.

"Because sometimes I know stuff that you don't." Jack said, frowning, "I've never seen someone die without some identifiable cause before, either, y'know."

Max shrugged slightly, "We're still looking into it." he said amicably, "If you would be kind enough to check out her house, see if there's anything suspicious there."

"Besides the rack and iron maiden she kept for when she had guests, you mean?" Jack sniped, grinning, and succeeding in making Max and Clarissa both laugh, "I'd _love_ a valid excuse to root through her stuff."

x x x

"It's not here!" Macnair hissed in anger, throwing a pile of Muggle books across the room and hurling curses at them, in midair, for the fun and therapeutic violence of it.

"Obviously." Severus said calmly, still sifting through paper documents, "I believe we have found something else of interest, however."

"Oh yeah?" Macnair wandered over to look, red sparks still flying from his wand, after the outburst of rage.

"One of my own students appears to be connected to this woman. Indirectly." He pointed to a list of contacts, including one Captain Jack Harkness. "This man is the boy's father."

"So we kidnap the brat, ransom him for our book?" Macnair said, grinning malevolently.

"Hardly." Severus said with disdain, "He is one of my best students. Perhaps we can enlist his assistance."

Macnair snorted, "Think a kid would know anything?"

"You would be surprised what children know." Severus said ominously, "They are perhaps the most curious creatures in the world, but appear so innocent and irrelevant to most, that you just don't notice them watching."

"So can we burn the place down, now?" Macnair asked, bored and already incinerating some pieces of Muggle technology in the kitchen.

"What the-?"

Severus did not recognise the voice, and immediately turned and aimed his wand at the newcomer, who was standing just inside the doorway of the house, door closed behind him and a Muggle weapon in his hand. The man was tall and handsome, wearing a distinctive coat, which looked like it belonged to Muggle military of some kind.

"Oh ho!" Macnair cheered, raising his own wand, "More sport!"

The man looked bemused by this threat, and had the nerve to ask, "Yeah? What sort of games were you thinking of, there, big guy?" in a blatantly flirtatious tone.

Severus rolled his eyes, and before Macnair could retort he snarled, "Crucio!"

The stranger fell to the ground, screaming in pain. It felt intensely satisfying to put this arrogant Muggle in his place. After a few seconds he released the curse, and Macnair crowed, "Crucio!"

Eventually, even that curse was released, and the man was left gasping in pain, "Wow. Friends of Carol's, I take it?" he laughed weakly, "I always figured if there's a club for sadistic bitches she'd be a member."

"Did you just call us-?" Macnair spluttered.

"Yeah, what'ya gonna do about it darlin'?" the stranger taunted.

"Identify yourself, Muggle." Severus demanded.

The man raised an eyebrow, and then straightened up where he sat, taking on a blank tone to his voice, "Captain Jack Harkness, T, W, three, zero one three."

"What the-?" Macnair puzzled.

So this was Captain Jack Harkness. He bore a very strong resemblance to the boy in his class by the same name... right down to the self-assured smirk and the odd gleam of age and knowledge in his eyes.

"Muggle custom." Severus sneered, "Prisoners of war only report their name, rank and serial number, is that not correct, Captain?"

While he remained silent, the faint twitch of the Captain's lip showed that this was indeed correct.

"You are not, nor will you live to become a prisoner of war, Harkness." Severus said coldly.

The man laughed, "No honour among thieves, eh?" he taunted, "Well I suppose it's only fair. My people don't usually abide by the Geneva convention either."

"The what?" Macnair muttered.

Severus shrugged. He didn't know that one. Harkness also shrugged, grinning like a wild animal baring its teeth, "You guys killed Carol, didn't you?"

"And if we did?" Severus asked coldly.

"I think I love you both." he laughed. Macnair was visibly uncomfortable with the tone of that strange retort, but Severus ignored it. He had met the younger Jack Harkness, after all. "Worst boss ever. Well second-worst, but she did her very best to live up to Emily's psychotic standards. So maybe if you tell me why you killed her, I could make the paperwork disappear?" he offered.

Severus idly considered the option. Killing the parent of one of his own students would be troublesome. This man may be a Muggle, but perhaps it would be more convenient for the time-being to allow him to live.

"We don't work with filth like you!" Macnair snarled, "Avada Kedavra!"

Captain Jack Harkness fell to the floor, dead... still wearing that cocky grin, not the slightest sign of shock or fear in his eyes. It had just been too fast.

Severus frowned at this simple-minded ignoramus he had been forced to work with, and asked despairingly, "Was that entirely necessary?"

x x x

"I've worked out the alignment matrices of this crystal." Tosh announced to the rest of the team, "It's running a countdown."

"Oh no." Gwen said, immediately eyeing the crystal with suspicion.

"What for?" Ianto asked with only slightly less mistrust of the concept.

"It seems to be until the spell wears off." Tosh said, going over notes on her laptop one last time, before explaining, "Basically the magical energy within the crystal is degrading on a half-life, and judging by my calculations it should be entirely depleted in just under two years."

"_TWO MORE YEARS!_" Owen complained.

"July seventh nineteen ninety-eight." Tosh said with a nod, "At a rough estimate."

"Couldn't narrow it down to nanoseconds, could we?" Owen snarked, folding his arms and sulking. Tosh and Ianto both scowled at him for that.

"So we'll return to our normal selves after fifth year?" Gwen asked hopefully.

"In theory." Tosh admitted, "I still need to do more work on this. I'm beginning to wonder if it might be easier to deal with in a magical environment like Hogwarts."

Just then, the apartment door burst open and Jack's past-self stumbled in looking like he was going to be sick. "Sodding wizards." he grumbled.

"Really?" Jack asked, with an impudent grin, "To death? I'm impressed."

His past-self scowled, "Not funny. What's Avada Kedavra mean?"

"Killing curse." Jack answered, frowning, "Leaves absolutely no trace of a cause of death. Only way to diagnose it is to rule out all other possibilities."

"Right. I just heard these words when I went to search Carol's house." his past-self grumbled, collapsing on the couch with an exhausted sigh. "From someone who seemed to recognise my name, I might add."

"Oh crap." Owen muttered.

"Carol was killed by magic?" Jack asked, slightly stunned.

"Seems that way. Probably the same thing they used just now." his past-self said with a slow nod, before swearing, "Damn." he grumbled, putting one hand to his head as if in pain, "The problem with having you five around- especially Owen- is I don't keep alcohol anymore. I really need a drink."

Owen sulked at being called out. Teenager or not, he really would seek out any alcohol in the apartment and drink it anyway, which was precisely why Jack's past-self had stopped buying it once they had shown up three years ago. He still drank at the Hub, apparently... but not here.

"There _is_ a transfiguration spell to turn water to wine." Ianto observed, frowning, "Fortunately, considering Owen, it's not on the Hogwarts curriculum."

Jack's past-self laughed bitterly, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Who was it?" Jack asked bluntly, "Who cursed you?"

"Couple of guys I found ransacking Carol's place, think they were looking for something... they had masks and black hooded cloaks."

"Death Eaters." Ianto deduced.

"The one who actually cursed me was a big guy, and he seemed like a complete moron. The smart one looked like he was gonna accept my offer to make a deal... and he's the one who recognised my name."

"What did he sound like?" Jack asked, sitting next to his past-self and gently touching his shoulder in a comforting way.

"Hmm... proper English accent." his past-self mused, "Sophisticated, slightly sultry baritone. His eyes were practically black, too." he looked up at Jack, now, "Know him?"

Jack blinked, and looked at the others. They were all staring at him as well.

As one, all five of them answered, "Snape."

x x x


	73. Defining Unforgivable

x x x

**Chapter 73: Defining Unforgivable**

x x x

It's not easy being a Slytherin, when you're not into the Dark Arts. Especially when you're from a long family tradition of Gryffindors. Thadius Vance had barely spoken to anyone in his family, save the obligatory pleasantries required of sharing a household and being legally a minor and dependant. The Hat had nearly put him in Ravenclaw... and he really wished it had.

His mother didn't even look at him for the whole summer after first year. As if she thought he was going to turn into some kind of dangerous dark wizard at a moment's notice and she really should let go of the attachment before it happened. He knew this was an exaggeration, but it was how her behaviour made him _feel_.

Second year, his father had asked some quite frankly disturbing questions about 'what went on in boarding schools with all-boys dormitories'. Enough questions, in fact, for Thadius to wonder exactly what his father's classmates had gotten up to during their school days to warrant such thoughts.

This was _not_ helped- in fact, it was probably caused- by the news that Christmas, about one of his male classmates dating a boy.

It had been worse, the last week since he came home from his third year. His mother was barely around, and the mere fact she wouldn't tell him where she was going or what she was doing made him quite certain that she had gone back to the Order of the Phoenix he had heard stories about when he had been too young for Sortings and house prejudices.

He really wished she wouldn't. Vigilante groups were never a good idea, and directly- more to the point, _overtly_- opposing a beast as dangerous as the Dark Lord was not a wise move unless you yourself were just as dangerous yourself. That list was currently at about two or three people, in Thadius' mind.

Professor Albus Dumbledore was known to have faced off with the Dark Lord and drawn a tie.

Everyone knew, since it had been plastered all over the Daily Prophet, that there was a prophecy about Harry Potter being some kind of Chosen One.

And then there was Owen Bloody Harper- known to the entire school _with_ that middle name- who was believed, after what he instigated against Umbridge, to be perfectly capable of tearing down anyone and anything from within, given enough time and motivation to destroy them _mentally_, rather than physically.

He loved his mother dearly, in spite of the distance that had grown between them in the last three years, but he didn't believe for a moment that she had either the raw power or the deviant subterfuge necessary for such a feat.

As if these dark musings, which he had gone over a dozen times before, were this time some kind of cue, a loud crash echoed from downstairs.

Now while it could, in theory, be burglars, that definitely sounded like magic. And who breaks into a house shouting angrily if they just want to take your stuff? No, this was definitely not your average breaking and entering. Thadius had never been the kind to rush into a fight, in fact had this been anywhere but his own home he would have fled instantly. However the shouting downstairs had extended to include his mother, and he definitely heard her yelling, "Death Eater bastards!"

Well, damn. Now he just had to do something.

He took his wand in one hand, and the particularly heavy crystal ball some great aunt had given him as an unwanted birthday present a few years ago. He never took Divination, what did she think he was going to do with it, exactly? And crept to the top of the stairs, where he peered over the railing.

There were four men in black hooded robes, and what had been shouting moments ago had become full-blown curse-fighting by the time he got a good look. Flashes of reds and greens and whites. None of the men were in good range to drop heavy objects on them, so instead he levitated the thing over to the doorway behind them all... and let it drop.

Fuck the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and all.

As predicted, the Death Eaters turned to the source of the noise, finding only shattered glass and a faint magical mist there. Thadius himself, meanwhile, had ducked down behind the railing. Between him not being visible, and the levitated object falling right at an open front door, they shouldn't suspect where it came from.

He heard his mother shout out, "Stupify!" and the distinctive sound of a body falling to the floor.

But then... "Crucio!"

Thadius grit his teeth in a combination of pained empathy and absolute disgust. And some fear, let's not forget the fear.

He heard footsteps headed for the door, and peered carefully over the rail again. Sure enough, one of the Death Eaters was standing right over the shattered glass that had once been a crystal ball, staring at it in bewilderment.

Thadius grinned with malice as a plan came to mind, and he cast a summoning charm... on the shards of glass. The Death Eater was directly between Thadius and the broken glass, and it tore right into him. Not one shard failed to plunge into the man's unguarded body, and he let out a scream of agony.

The remaining two now turned to stare at their fallen comrade, releasing the torture curse as they did so. Thadius hid once more, trying to think of two more violent deaths to inflict... and drawing an incredibly frustrating blank. Turned out he only needed the one, as he heard a cry of pain from one of the two remaining Death Eaters.

With only one enemy remaining, and the odds now stacked quite firmly in his favour, Thadius stood up again, aiming over the railing and casting a burning jinx at the man's face.

Too slow.

Before his own curse made contact, the Death Eater had uttered the two words no wizard ever wants to hear.

The killing curse.

Yes, he left the Death Eater with his face _literally_ on fire... but not before the flash of deadly green light flew across the room and struck his mother in the chest.

"_NO!_" he yelled, racing down the stairs, even though he knew it was too late.

He felt more than heard or saw the explosions around the room. He hadn't done accidental magic since he was ten, but suddenly all the glass in the house had shattered, and all four of his fallen enemies' chests _exploded_, splattering blood all over the room. The wooden beams that supported the upper floor cracked violently, but didn't break before he reigned in his anger.

Every adult wizard was capable of blowing up a small city block, if they got upset enough... and it was meant to be vastly easier to do to inanimate or dead things, too. Nobody talked about it much, but those who noticed such accidental magic usually wrongly assumed it was because the individual was exceptionally powerful. It actually had very little to do with raw power, and a lot more to do with will and rage.

He stopped himself short in the middle of the living room, before he could reach her unmoving body. He didn't _want_ to see her dead glassy eyes. He didn't want to even think about it.

Instead he turned tail and ran back up the stairs... and within a minute he was out the door again with his school things shrunk and charmed feather-light, in a rucksack over his shoulder.

He kept running until he couldn't run any more.

x x x

"Ianto." Jack asked, a bit too casually. The two of them were alone in the apartment, his past-self being at work and the other three having gone out somewhere distinctly more sociable and civilised. Ianto was on the couch, and Jack stood in the kitchen, looking a bit too thoughtful for someone holding a spatula. "What do you know about the Imperius curse?"

Ianto looked up from the book he had been reading rather sharply, and stared at Jack for half a second, before going into professional mode and answering, "It's one of the three Unforgivable curses. Complete domination over another person's mind. Just trying to use it can land you in Azkaban for life."

"I meant the details." Jack said blankly, a bit annoyed at this textbook answer.

"Well..." Ianto hesitated, actually thinking about it now, "It's impossible to prove whether someone is acting under its influence, or of their own free will, unless they start to break free of the curse. I saw Barty Crouch senior do that. It was pretty horrific actually."

Jack frowned slightly, "What about side-effects? Can the curse linger even if you think you're free?"

"No, if you're thinking clearly then you're not under it's influence." Ianto said firmly, "Some people have described the feeling as a terrifying high, others like complete lack of thought. Either way, you'd definitely notice."

"It feels like there's no such thing as pain or fear." Jack said quietly, causing Ianto to stare at him in blatant shock and some horror. "Lucius tried to use it on me, in the Department of Mysteries, to get me to steal the prophecy from Harry."

Ianto sat back slightly, still staring in awe, "Damn."

"Honestly, it felt good." Jack said softly, setting down the unsettling kitchen utensil and moving to sit down next to Ianto. Who just stared at him as if he was completely mad. Probably a reasonable reaction, really. "I mean, it scared the hell out of me afterwards, when I realised what nearly happened... but the actual feeling while I was under the influence of the curse, it was..." he smiled faintly, just thinking about it as he tried to find the words, "Blissful."

"You're starting to scare me a bit, Jack." Ianto warned, "Because I think I know where this is going, and I-"

"Do you think you could learn to cast it?" Jack interrupted. He was quite sure he knew where Ianto had thought this was going, too. He probably expected Jack to offer to demonstrate said feeling. That was how it usually went when he described something new and intensely pleasurable.

"You... want _me_ to cast an _Unforgivable Curse_ on you?" Ianto asked, stunned and incredulous.

"Yes." came the prompt reply.

"But I could make you do anything." Ianto warned.

"I know."

Ianto blinked slowly, several times. He clearly understood the deeper meaning behind that. Jack trusted him, that much had been made clear when they used the Fidelius charm. This suggestion, however, required _absolute _ trust.

"Why would you want... this?" Ianto asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"Because it really does feel good." Jack said, leaning a little closer to him, reaching out to lightly touch the side of his face, "Like being at peace. I haven't felt anything like it, for as long as I can remember."

Something about the way he said that made Ianto's eyes flicker. A sort of surprise and... pity? Understanding? He wasn't quite sure, and he also wasn't quite sure he wanted to know. "It's just an illusion." Ianto breathed, "It's a curse designed to trick you into accepting horrors because of a happy illusion."

"But if you did it, there wouldn't be any horror." Jack reassured him softly.

Not for the first time, Ianto swore under his breath about fifty-first century pheromones, then he laughed weakly, "I don't know if I can do that to you, Jack. I- I'd need to learn more about the curse before even considering it."

Jack nodded, understanding. He wasn't sure he would want to be in Ianto's position right now. Well, regarding the curse, anyway. Physically, their lips were no more than an inch apart now, and he was just narcissistic enough to think about that for a moment before closing that distance and kissing his young lover.

Ianto reacted positively- these days it was about a fifty-fifty chance, mostly because if Ianto's insecurity about their appearances- wrapping his arms around Jack's neck and lazily returning the kiss as Jack pushed him back into the cushions. Moments like these were so rare and so sweet, when he could honestly feel like he never needed to ask that damn question he had so cruelly put to Ianto mere moments ago. Because honestly, things were perfect right now without anything like magic interfering.

"Oh dear God!" Owen's voice yelped from the direction of the door, "We go out for five minutes, and this happens!"

Jack glowered up at Owen, making absolutely no effort to move away from Ianto. Tosh and Gwen were there as well, but they both looked more amused than anything else. "You were gone for two hours, and we _just_ got started."

Unfortunately, Ianto was more easily put off than Jack, and pushed him away by the shoulders. Jack reluctantly complied, in spite of his every desire right now telling him to just take Ianto into the other room- the room none of them had entered since arriving in this time, but it was still _his_ bedroom, god damn it- and thoroughly ravish the adorable Welshman.

Instead, he had to pretend he wasn't disappointed as Ianto stood up and straightened his clothes, putting on that professional mask he wore just a little too well. "I'll, ah... do that research for you, when we get back to Hogwarts. Think I'll need the Slytherin library for it."

Jack nodded, but Owen just had to interrupt yet again. "Hang on, Slytherin's got a library?"

Ianto stared at Owen for a moment, then blandly asked, "Gryffindor doesn't?"

"I think we're the only ones, Owen." Gwen put in, "Ravenclaw's got their private library, too."

Ianto nodded to her, his eyes visibly warmer than when he so much as looked at Owen, "So has Hufflepuff."

"Damn." Owen grumbled, "Gotta fix that."

"Find someone in our house who cares." Gwen laughed.

Unfortunately, nobody else shared her sentiment. Instead it was Tosh who said the name they were all thinking, "Hermione Granger."

Owen sulked and slouched off. And with that the tension was broken and they all went about their usual routines.

x x x

"_CRUCIO!_"

Macnair's screams rent the air of the dungeon like a banshee, as Severus looked on with dispassion. Served him right, really. Just because you want to kill all Muggles, doesn't mean you should do so _before_ getting valuable information out of them. The Dark Lord was _most_ displeased.

At least the blame had been assigned quite firmly where it belonged. This time.

It was a terribly kept secret- mostly because Severus had quietly passed the information on to the enemy- that what they had been searching for at that Squib-spawned woman's home was rumoured by certain Muggle-friendly sources to be a capable of bestowing immortality. Naturally, the sane beings among the wizarding community wanted to keep it as far from the Dark Lord's grasp as possible, but nobody could actually prove anything.

Severus honestly doubted the validity of the claims. Though that would not stop him from interrogating a certain student, once term began again.

These public displays of torture were becoming tiresome. They only still held any shock value for the younger recruits to the 'cause'. Adrian Yaxley, Cullen Montague, and Draco Malfoy had all quite diligently stayed as close to the far wall as possible. Just like the Weasley twins in a Potions class... eager to avoid the figure of authority.

Severus doubted any of them had expected this on their first day.

Then again, only two of them looked particularly horrified. Yaxley seemed relatively unbothered by the sight of his new master torturing one of his fellow Death Eaters for such a minor setback. Severus himself had only avoided punishment himself by divulging the details of the encounter and painting Macnair in the role of moron that he rightly deserved. The fact Macnair rightly deserved such punishment had absolutely nothing to do with the Dark Lord's reason for inflicting it.

Finally the screaming ended, and the Dark Lord turned on Severus. "You will find this object for me, Severus. I trust your talents to gather the information necessary, alone."

Translation: I believe you when you said Macnair slowed you down, but screw up again and I will kill you.

"I will not fail you, My Lord."

x x x

Draco sat alone in his room, trying to forget what had just happened. Trying to ignore the Mark on his arm.

He hadn't screamed when he had been branded. He was proud of that. Montague had cried- real tears- and sobbed like a baby for almost a minute. Draco had merely fallen to his knees and bit his tongue until it bled.

It burned black, now.

Made him want to claw the skin off his arm, just to make it stop.

He knew that would do him no good, the Mark burned down to the bone... but maybe taking a razor blade to it would sever a few nerves and ease the overall pain. His father had warned him it would hurt, but he had never in all his life even imagined pain like this. If this was just the Mark, what did the Cruciatus feel like? How could anyone live through worse than this?

And even the least mistake, however unintentional would lead to _that_.

He felt sorry for Macnair... and he _hated_ Macnair.

His father had been punished for the failure Department of Mysteries, though he didn't seem anywhere near as badly affected by the torture curse. The worst part seemed more to be the fact that the Dark Lord had added insult to the injury by taking up residence within their home, now, as well.

And wasn't that just downright creepy. He was quite sure he wouldn't sleep at all until he got back to Hogwarts.

Possibly not even then.

As far as initiations go, however... he had read about worse. At least nobody had expected him to commit cold-blooded murder on his first day. He might have been physically ill if that had been the case. Witnessing the Cruciatus curse was bad enough to be getting on with, thank you very much.

The pain was easing now. The summons was over.

Draco knew he wasn't expected to attend these meetings yet, and was only too happy to stay well out of it for the time being. He stared balefully at the pile of books on his desk. They seemed so very unimportant right now. Who cares about something as silly as homework when your whole world has just been turned upside-down? He had so suddenly inherited a place in this army of darkness, without ever asking for it.

He still believed most of what the Death Eaters fought for; Muggles were inferior, Mudbloods were at best a joke or at worst a threat to the purity of the old bloodlines, pureblooded wizards deserved to rule over them all... but the Dark Lord simply was not the kind of boss with whom sane persons would actively seek employment.

Aunt Bella adored him. That should be proof enough right there, even without the excessive focus on punishment and rule through fear.

He was distracted from these morbid musings by an owl tapping on his window.

Quite accustomed to random letters from his many sycophantic lackeys with delusions of friendship, this didn't even manage to startle him in his current rather edgy state of mind. The distraction was somewhat welcome, however inane he expected the letter's contents to be.

He idly picked up a couple of owl treats from the desk as he wandered over to the window almost automatically. The small, unfamiliar barn owl seemed to implicitly understand that it wasn't wanted indoors... unlike Pansy's perky little tawny, which was about as pesky and clingy as the girl herself. This one quite happily took the treats, deposited the letter in Draco's hand, and took off again into the night.

He sullenly sat down on the nearest chair, as he unfolded the letter, fully anticipating the need to pen some form of diplomatic- or downright idiot-proof (he was 'friends' with Crabbe and Goyle, after all)- response.

What he found was far from the expected.

'_Draco,_  
><em>I was wondering if you would like to visit me during the holidays.<em>  
><em>Your friend,<em>  
><em>Jack Harkness.<em>'

It was far too blunt and to the point for Jack's usual style. Really. And there was nothing on the other side of the parchment, either.

He glanced at the window, to see no evidence of the owl present, and wondered for a moment what he should do.

Of course, a positive answer was the only chance of a reasonable explanation, so he quickly turned to his desk and began to write a reply.

x x x

'_Jack,_

_If you want me to visit, you need to give me  
>an address.<em>  
><em>My owl will wait for your reply, but she gets<br>aggressive if you don't feed her._  
><em>Dormice are her favourite, but she will still<br>eat bacon without tearing your fingers off._  
><em>After what happened between us on the<br>train, I must admit that I am surprised to  
>hear from you. It never ceases to impress me<br>every time you thwart my attempts at malice._  
><em>A less educated person might think you were<br>trying to gain something from our friendship._  
><em>Even now, I am unsure of your motivations and<br>reasons, but I would still like to see you._

_Your friend,_  
><em>Draco.<em>'

"Wow. I have honestly seen more complicated codes on children's television programs." Owen declared, leaning over Jack's shoulder as he read the letter from Draco.

"He did a pretty good job of it, though." Ianto pointed out, "The filler does read quite smoothly."

"So what does this mean, then?" Gwen asked, "We can't trust him?"

"I wouldn't say that." Jack said casually sitting back on the couch, "If he was kind enough to warn me, after I made it perfectly clear which side I was on, then he's probably still alright."

"So we're just going to trust him?" Owen asked sceptically. Tosh snorted at this very suggestion.

Jack scoffed, "Of course not!"

x x x

Getting permission to leave the manor was not such an easy task. The Dark Lord was incredibly vigilant, and he was said to be able to tell if you're lying, so Draco had told the truth. He wanted to visit a friend. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of naming said friend.

"Harkness, you say?" the Dark Lord asked, beginning to pace slowly in front of Draco, giving off the impression of a particularly thoughtful predator stalking back and forth as it tried to decide if the subject of its attention was worth killing. "Severus!"

Snape stepped out from the shadows, where Draco had not seen him until this point, "Yes, My Lord?"

"Is that not the name of the student who you said should be questioned regarding the... artefact?" the Dark Lord asked of him.

Snape nodded, "Yes, My Lord." he answered promptly.

The Dark Lord turned to face Draco, a cold and deadly smile briefly crossing his disfigured visage, "Yes, of course, Draco. You may visit your... friend. However, while you are there, I should like you to find out everything you can about the boy's father. Particularly his place of work."

Draco's brow creased slightly in confusion, but then he nodded quickly, "As you wish, My Lord." he spoke in as reverent a tone as possible. He really wasn't used to being the subservient one, and it did grate a little on his pride.

The Dark Lord waved a hand dismissively, and Draco bowed, before turning to leave the room as quickly as possible without actually running.

He had only walked the length of the corridor outside the room before Snape caught up to him, "Do you realise why the Dark Lord gave you this task?"

Draco looked up at him blandly, "Because he wants something. Why else?"

Snape's lip twitched into a vague semblance of a smile. In fact, Draco was sure he almost laughed, "This artefact is of great value to the Dark Lord, and we believe that Harkness' father may have known its location. The last thing I would wish is for either of you to come to harm for lack of information. All that is expected of you is to find out where the artefact is, and all we know about it is its name."

Draco nodded, waiting expectantly, with baited breath. He thought HE had a flair for the dramatic, but he knew had nothing on Snape's sadistic use of silence to invoke tension.

"The Immortality Gate."

x x x


	74. You Can't Run Away Forever

x x x

**Chapter 74: You Can't Run Away Forever**

x x x

Cardiff was not at all what Draco had expected. To be honest, he had anticipated the entirety of Wales to be a desolate pit not especially unlike the images he had seen of pre-indoor-plumping Muggle settlements. Instead, it was a relatively civilised city... considering there were still Muggles all over the place.

Every major city, pretty much anywhere, had at least one connection to the magical world, whether it was a small tavern with a Floo grate, or a vast metropolis like the Salem Undercity. Cardiff was of the tavern variety, because for some reason most witches and wizards avoided the place like the plague.

He honestly wasn't sure why, seeing absolutely nothing unusual or especially worthy of avoidance, as he stepped out of said tavern to meet Jack... and of course Jack's little inter-house gang, who had accompanied him to this meeting.

Draco, in all illusions of good faith, had actually shown up alone, and was distinctly uncomfortable to be greeted by a pair of highly suspicious Gryffindors, not to mention the little Mudblood genius who was trying to make Muggle toys work in Hogwarts, and the boy who had according to rumour successfully spiked the entire school's drinks and gotten away with it.

"I can't help but notice I'm outnumbered, here." he said in an idle tone.

"You warned us not to trust you." the Gryffindor girl- Gwen Cooper, if he remembered correctly- pointed out rather sternly.

"Right trusting lot we are, normally, and all." Owen Harper put in with deep sarcasm. He had never quite seemed the typical Gryffindor, anyway, in Draco's opinion. All the bravado and nerve, none of the over-rated sense of morality.

"So I see." Draco muttered darkly, before turning to Jack in particular, "So are we just going to stand around here trading imaginary insults, or did you have a specific reason you wanted to meet with me?"

"Actually, we did have a specific reason, yes." Jack said brightly, gesturing for Draco to join them as they began to walk away from the tavern. It was incredibly disconcerting the way the group formed up around him, in a way that could be mistaken for casual if it wasn't so obvious to Draco himself that they had him surrounded. As if they were escorting a prisoner, rather than just hanging out with a friend.

They walked in silence for a surprisingly short distance, before turning into a side-street, which led to a block of flats.

"You know." Jack said casual as you please, "I had no idea the Floo connection was so close to my place, until I tried to figure out how to get you here without using Muggle trains."

"You really don't want to use the trains." Ianto Jones put in, in a too-bright tone that implied very bad things of said trains.

"It's almost suspiciously convenient, if you think about it." Jack continued, as if Ianto hadn't spoken. But then he shrugged, and led them on, into the building and up a few floors, quietly adding as they walked, "My place is flat sixteen, just along here."

Then he led the way into said flat, which had the number on the door in faded brass. The whole building felt desolate. Somehow... unloved.

As for the flat itself, it was tiny, with living and kitchen areas squeezed into a single room smaller than Draco's bedroom, one ratted old couch, and an old desk strewn with homework... and an strange piece of crystal that seemed to give off a strong magical aura and managed to stand out in spite of otherwise appearing small and innocuous.

"Please tell me this isn't where you actually live." Draco said, in shock.

"Sorry, Draco. Not all of us think our worth is defined by the size of our house." Jack laughed, closing the door behind them. It was always unsettling when the younger boy made inappropriate insinuations... like the briefest hesitation on that last word there. Still, after the Hufflepuff Quidditch match, Draco had learned to completely ignore it when it did happened.

Instead he turned to Jack, folding his arms a bit defensively, "So what did you want, exactly?"

"What, no pleasantries? We might have food to offer... possibly." Jack glanced with uncertainty at the kitchen area. "Oh, who am I kidding." he shook his head and turned back to Draco, "We wanted to ask you why a pair of Death Eaters might want to attack some... acquaintances of mine."

"Define acquaintances." Draco said, suddenly a bit too aware that these people may be perfectly friendly right now, but three of them were Mudbloods, one had admitted to being a Muggle-sympathiser and the other had never exactly been polite to the junior Death Eaters at school either. He was a Death Eater and had told them as much. He was outnumbered, surrounded, and in unfamiliar territory. None of these were good things.

"That would be me. And my boss." Draco turned suddenly to see the man who had spoken, standing by a door across from the entrance to the room. He bore a striking resemblance to Jack, but looked like he was in his thirties. "They killed her, and not that I'm complaining about _that_, but they tried to kill me too."

"So you're Jack's father?" Draco asked. Oddly, this made the others snicker. Sure, they tried to hide it, but he noticed, and directed a suspicious look at the loudest one. Namely Owen Harper.

"I suppose, for the simplicity's sake, we can go with that." the man said, nodding, "You can call me John."

"Please, let's not." Gwen mumbled, shaking her head and pressing the fingers of one hand to her temple as if she was getting a headache. However, nobody paid any attention to her protest.

Draco recognised the evasion when he heard it, but honestly didn't care what- obviously close, most likely blood- relation the man had to his classmate. That wasn't important right now. He looked to Jack, then at the other students surrounding him, and finally to this man, who was the only adult presence in the room. He really didn't like this situation, especially when he realised that the only logical way to negotiate it safely seemed to be total honesty.

Honesty was not one of his strong points, nor was it a concept he particularly enjoyed.

Still, needs must. "Perhaps we should all start from the beginning, here." he said carefully, "Death Eaters attacked you, why?"

"I think they were looking for something." Jack's not-father said with a shrug, "They didn't exactly tell me what."

Draco's lip twitched faintly. He could already see where Jack got his attitude from, "If I tell you... will you tell me something in return?"

"Fair deal." Jack said with a nod. For some strange reason, it seemed as though even the adult in the room deferred to his judgement, which was more than a little bit worrying.

"They heard about some kind of artefact that they think you know how to find." Draco explained, looking mostly to the man, "They called it the Immortality Gate."

The man blinked once, a clear tell, while Jack snorted with what sounded like indignance. So they both knew.

"Really?" Toshiko asked in surprise, "I thought it was a myth?"

"I thought it was broken?" Ianto countered, looking to Jack in a questioning way.

"Well if it is, would we have bothered to tell the Death Eaters that?" the man asked, as if this was all one big joke, "No, we never figured out what it did. They only even called it that because of one of Clarissa's crackpot theories."

"Whoa, slow down." Draco said, staring at them all in surprise, "What did I say before about starting at the beginning?"

"It's a machine." Jack explained, "Looks a bit like a giant archway. Not exactly Muggle design, but close enough from your perspective. It's been kept in the basement of-" he glanced at the man, frowning slightly as he hesitated, "-where my 'father' works, for years."

The amusement was thick in the air at this blatant lie as to the man's identity, but experience had proved that the funnier this group of children thought it was, the less Draco wanted to know about it, so he brutally crushed his curiosity under a metaphorical boot heel and left it there to die.

"Nobody really knows what it's meant to do, and Clarissa was the only one to even venture a guess. It got a name that may have nothing to do with its purpose, and was promptly filed away under 'broken'." he turned his full attention to Draco now, gaze intense, "How anyone outside a select few trusted individuals ever even heard of it is a mystery... and one I'd quite like an answer to, at that."

"I... honestly have no idea." he defended quickly, "All I know is the Dark Lord wants it."

"He'd be better off with the gauntlet, wouldn't he?" Owen muttered under his breath.

"We don't have that yet." Jack put in a bit too sharply, "And don't go making suggestions in front of the Death Eater!" he added as a joking afterthought.

"What gauntlet?" Draco couldn't help but ask, which only succeeded in making Owen laugh.

Jack, on the other hand, seemed to sober up quite suddenly as something significant must have occurred to him, "You're going to have to tell HIM something, to prove you extracted the relevant information in a properly subversive way. Just asking a friend and getting a straight answer would probably confuse him beyond belief."

Draco considered this for all of a minute, before shrugging, "I think I can figure that one out."

"Really?" Gwen asked, curious more than sceptical.

"He can smell a lie a mile away." Draco admitted with a slight tremor in his voice at the mere thought of the 'man' they were speaking of, "But I prefer to tell the truth in a way that implies something... less than truthful."

"Always works wonders." Ianto acknowledged with approval.

"And I have been watching the way Snape plays both sides. They each trust him almost completely, and fully believe he's betraying the other. In fact, even I'm not sure if I'm on your side or his right now, so..."

"Yeah." Owen interrupted, grumbling a bit, "We get the picture."

x x x

Thadius Vance had been on the run for two weeks, now.

The real problem was that he had had nowhere to go. He stayed in a relatively cheap Muggle hotel in London. A place he hoped was 'off the grid', as the Muggles refer to it, while still within walking distance of Diagon Alley. He hadn't used magic since he left his home, but he had bought some cunning disguises from a Muggle shop. They were genuinely good quality, though he had needed to ask the pretty young woman selling the 'disguise kit makeup' to show him how to use it.

The result of this was that he was able to make the trip into Diagon Alley and get some more money from his family vault. Goblins don't care who you're trying to hide from, as long as you're not trying to steal from them.

He didn't trust his classmates, and nobody else trusted him.

There were only two reasonable places to run to, if you thought the Death Eaters were after you. The Order of the Phoenix... or Hogwarts. He had no idea how to get to Hogwarts without taking the train that only ran twice a year, and nobody but members knew where the Order of the Flaming Chicken hid themselves away.

He had heard stories of another murder. Amelia Bones, who every sane person in or around the Ministry adored in spite of her stern demeanour. Someone, strongly suspected to be Death Eaters, had blown up a bridge just outside London. Meanwhile, Muggle politicians were showing evidence of the Imperius curse.

It was all going by so fast, but he had no one to turn to. Not to mention, when school started the children of the men he had killed (self-defence, keep telling yourself that, Thadius... some day you might even believe it) would probably find an excuse to blame him without evidence.

Then again, he hadn't even seen their faces... they might just have been uncles or friends-of-parents of his current housemates.

His crucial mistake came as he was purchasing his school books in Diagon Alley. He probably shouldn't have just shown the booklist to the shopkeeper. It had his _name_ on it. This was one of those things you kicked yourself for afterwards, but they never occur to you at the time.

As he left the Leaky Cauldron, two wizards suddenly Apparated in on either side of him, and without wasting any time on questions or explanations they grabbed him and Apparated away.

He found himself in a dingy Muggle street, facing, he was shocked to realise, Albus freaking Dumbledore.

"We've been looking for you, Mr Vance." Dumbledore said far too damn calmly.

Here he was, held a bit too tightly by both arms, by two men he didn't recognise- a prisoner, effectively- and this old man was talking to him so casually you'd think they were chatting over afternoon tea.

"Yeah, and I doubt you're the only ones." he grumbled.

"It was a terrible thing that happened to your mother." Dumbledore said, still too calm not to piss Thadius off, "But I am afraid I must ask you, what happened that night?"

Thadius stared at him, somewhere between insulted and shocked. In spite of the neutral tone, this was as good as an accusation. "Four Death Eaters showed up and started throwing curses around. I only survived because they didn't see me."

"We found our four Death Eaters dead at the scene." one of the men holding him- the one on the right- growled at him.

"Yeah, there was a big fight. I might have broken a law or two, but we were just defending ourselves!"

He got the distinct feeling neither of the two men restraining him believed a word of it. Dumbledore, however, simply nodded sagely, "The evidence did show that most of the harm that came to the Death Eaters was due to accidental magic. I do somewhat doubt the possibility that anyone allied to them would have been enraged so."

He then nodded in a more commanding way to the two goons on either side of Thadius, and they both let him go.

"The Order of the Phoenix headquarters may be found at number twelve Grimmauld Place." he said, in something of a too careful tone. Measured and deliberate, like the sentence itself was a spell.

Sure enough, it seemed like the walls behind Dumbledore began to move, and suddenly between the oddly numbered houses of ten and fourteen, number twelve appeared out of nowhere to take its rightful place.

"Unfortunately, we cannot accommodate you here in the long term, Mr Vance." Dumbledore explained, "However, should you ever require our assistance, you will at least know where to find us in the future."

"And since it's under the Fidelius charm, even if you're lying you can't betray us." the other man who had spoken before said far too coldly. Thadius actually looked up at him, but didn't recognise him from anywhere. When he looked to his left, however, he did recognise Sirius Black.

Which is really quite startling, even when you have read the news that he was found innocent of all the crimes he had been imprisoned for.

"Give him a break, Sturgis." Black dismissed vaguely, "If we turned away everyone suspected of killing Death Eaters, we'd not have any members at all!"

Sturgis grumbled darkly at this, but didn't retaliate.

"Professor...?" Thadius asked carefully, "Is there any chance I could change houses? The Hat nearly put me in Ravenclaw, maybe I could go there?"

"Why ever would you ask that?" Dumbledore asked, blatantly surprised by the very idea.

"Because I think some of my housemates might want to kill me."

The three adults exchanged looks of surprise at that, but then Dumbledore shook his head, "I am afraid, Mr Vance, that such an action is entirely unprecedented, and I do not believe it would be wise."

"Housemates... want to kill me. What part of that sounds wise to you, Professor?" In spite of using his proper title with all due deference, his tone was still hostile and confrontational. If going back to Hogwarts meant facing the children of Death Eaters who knew perfectly well who he'd killed, then he'd much rather immigrate to Salem... or wherever Durmstrang was. Both were good schools, he'd do just fine at either one. Maybe he could even claim political asylum.

"Not all of them." Black said sounding almost amused, "Harkness has been known to beat up Death Eaters, too. He's in your year, isn't he?"

"Jack Harkness? The gay kid?"

He was rewarded for this statement by a smack to the ear from Black. "Think the word he used was 'omnisexual'. He also said something about centaurs which I did not ever need to know."

"Gonna be sick now." Thadius muttered, shaking his head in a vain attempt to dispel that image.

Dumbledore smiled blandly, "Sirius is indeed right. Mr Harkness is indeed quite capable of dealing with even the most outspoken of his enemies. Perhaps it would be best if you were to attempt to earn his friendship?"

"You're telling me to trust someone my own age to look out for seventh-year assassins?" Thadius snorted, "Right, give me one good reason not to just pack up and go to Durmstrang right now."

"Because Hogwarts is impenetrable." Sirius said bluntly, causing Thadius to direct a very dark glower at him, "Leaving the country only works if your enemies couldn't be bothered following you. Four's an impressive body-count for your first day, and I don't doubt the _real_ Death Eaters would hunt you down if you avoid the school, where you'll probably only find half a dozen kids playing Death Eater."

"Well, bugger." Thadius sulked dramatically, "I hate you both, just so you know that."

x x x

Since Jack had mentioned the Imperius curse, he got the feeling Ianto was avoiding him.

He could be wrong, they could both just have been busy. Between the possibility that Ianto might actually be researching the suggestion, trying to figure out how to deal with a Death Eater plot against Torchwood, and just plain old boring homework, they really hadn't had a lot of spare time since Draco's visit.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit... sulky about it. Yes, childish as it was, that was definitely the word for how he was reacting to Ianto not talking to him as much. Not to mention, with trying to figure out what exactly this alien artefact was, Jack had been spending a lot of time with his past-self, as well. He always felt morbid around this living breathing reminder of a time in his life that he would rather forget.

He even noticed the way the rest of the team watched them, like they were trying to be delicate about it so as not to upset the situation. Like they could sense the tension in the air. Even Owen wasn't making snide remarks at Ianto the way he usually did.

Instead they just quietly got on with their work. Even Owen.

Eventually, the day for buying their school things came around again. New books were all it was, really. Jack didn't even want to bother going, so he stayed behind to work on the Torchwood research with his past-self.

Before Ianto took over, the archives had been downright archaic, this latest batch they were trying to work through was a large and haphazardly stacked pile of old manila files dating back to some time in the fifties... which his past-self insisted had been that way when he found it.

Jack believed it, too. He remembered the place with revulsion. A total mess.

Worse than the Hogwarts library, which at least was in some bizarre form of organisation, even if they had never heard of the Dewey decimal system. Clue was in the name there, though. The magical world seemed to be quite strongly opposed to decimalisation on principle.

About half an hour into their research, his past-self quite suddenly asked, "What is it about him?"

"What?" Jack looked up from the notes he had been reading over.

In spite of having lived with time travel since he really was a teenager, Jack never quite got used to seeing himself from a different angle like this. It wasn't at all, as so many people would imagine, like looking in a mirror. That implied far too normal a feeling (not to mention a concept of symmetry that nature simply was not capable of).

It always felt more like looking at a ghost. A shade of what he used to be, and he wasn't just thinking about these last few years, either. This was hardly the first time he had seen his own past as it happened. This whole de-aging business was, however, the first time he had directly _met_ his own past-or-future-self, and since it began he had never really managed to meet his own eyes.

"Ianto." his past-self said softly, "What is it about him that makes him special?"

"Special?" Jack asked, half scoffing at the idea in spite of the complete truth of it.

"You know how bad you are at lying to yourself." his past-self deadpanned darkly.

Jack glowered at a random- and possibly innocent, though it was Torchwood so you couldn't be too sure- file of paperwork. He was sulking again, and he knew it. Didn't make him particularly willing to either admit or stop it, though.

"I've seen the way you act around him, you know." the tone was leading, in a way Jack did not like. Yes, he knew, but he didn't have to think about it. And he tried very hard to ignore it when his past-self put an arm around his shoulders gently, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, "You love him."

He flinched at those words. It took him a moment to regain his composure, before biting out a retort through gritted teeth, "You should know better than to say that."

"What happened to you?" his past-self snapped, sitting back again, though his hand still rested on Jack's shoulder, "I'd give anything to be where you are now. To have people who care about me again. Why won't you admit the truth?"

"Because it won't last." Jack said bitterly, staring adamantly away from him.

"That's exactly _why_ you shouldn't waste the time you do have with them. With him. Life's too short."

Jack snorted bitterly. "If life is short, then what the hell are we?"

"Ha bloody ha. Don't change the subject."

Very suddenly, his resolve seemed to snap, and he slumped back into the seat and sideways into his past-self's arms. "This is why I hate talking to myself. You know exactly how I think."

"I know. We're fucked up, aren't we?" the dark chuckle was genuinely amused far more than self-depreciating, "You know, I'm the last person who should be advocating belief in love... and I mean that because I'm still broken from the last one I lost. Thing is, I've been thinking-"

"Oh dear." Jack interrupted in a mock-horrified tone.

He felt the glower to the side of his head, "I've been thinking, and I think it's worth the pain. Can you honestly see yourself living without love _forever?_"

"I try not to think that far ahead." he answered quietly.

"So do I, usually. A decade, though... that's all that separates you and me, not quite such a big picture. And I think you're downright miserable."

This time Jack looked at him, actually met his eyes for the first time. He could see the honesty there. "_I'm_ miserable?"

"You know they try to get close to you, and you keep them at arm's length. You're as lonely as I am, you just pretend that you're okay with it. I've seen you trust him with everything but your heart, and I'm really starting to consider violently beating whoever is going to make me forget these last few years, because when I become you I won't remember how to want it."

While his past-self's eyes were clear and determined, Jack felt tears well up in his own, and he turned away, "I can't-"

"You'll regret it if you don't."

"But they always leave me." One way or another. Eventually if nothing else, old age would take everyone he tried so very hard not to get attached to anymore.

"Just admit it to yourself, if nothing else."

Jack looked up at his past-self again, a bitterly twisted smile on his face, "If I could, I would spent the rest of my life with him."

"No, say the words. You know, the ones that make you feel sick with terror at the very thought of saying out loud." It riled just a little bit to be scolded like a child, especially by a moment of his past that wasn't exactly emotionally stable at the best of times either.

Still... he couldn't deny it, however hard he tried, and with a soft and pain-filled whisper he finally admitted it.

"I love him."

x x x


	75. The What Club?

x x x

**Chapter 75: The What Club?**

x x x

Horace Slughorn had a dilemma.

There were altogether too many students he was interested in inviting to the Slug Club, upon his glorious return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Well, he meant too many in a relative context. Too many to fit into a standard train compartment, certainly.

Naturally there was Harry Potter. That was his first priority, and no matter who else needed to be left out, he would have to invite Harry.

Marcus Belby, Blaise Zabini, Neville Longbottom, Ianto Jones, Cormac McLaggen, and Lindsay Davies all had powerful relatives, so naturally he would collect as many of them as he could. There were others to consider, as well, however.

Horace was a cautious fellow, and quite determined to avoid potential allies of the Dark Lord, but neither was he willing to allow idle rumour and house rivalry inspired gossip to stop him from attempting to recruit one of the best of his own house. While Lucius Malfoy's reputation had been challenged on several levels in the last few years, the family had weathered such accusations with a stoic pride that bore respect, and Horace most certainly was not about to exclude Draco Malfoy based on unproven rumour.

Then there was the young celebrity of Slytherin. The subject of featured photographs in the Daily Prophet in an equal number to Harry Potter, though naturally fewer articles. Jack Harkness was almost as well known, for both precocious talent and outspoken personality that had on at least one noted occasion downright outshone the more modest hero of Gryffindor.

In the end, he shrugged his shoulders and cast an expansion charm on the carriage, converting the small six-seat compartment he had chosen into a large lounge that could comfortably accommodate a dozen individuals of such ample girth as Horace himself. He then proceeded to send out the invitations to all the students on his list.

x x x

It was only about twenty minutes into the journey on the Hogwarts Express. The Torchwood team had already mostly settled in for the journey. The only one among them who wasn't content to read their textbooks seemed to be Jack. Tosh, Gwen and Owen were sitting on one side of the compartment, while Jack had quite deliberately commandeered the two seats next to Ianto.

Ianto hadn't done anything unusual, he was sure, but for some reason Jack seemed out of sorts. Silent and sullen.

Eventually the tension finally snapped and Jack stood up abruptly, stalking out of the compartment and allowing the door to slide shut behind him with a bit of a bang.

"What's his problem?" Gwen asked, staring after him.

Ianto shrugged, and considered going after him... but before he could do so the door opened again to reveal a nervous looking Hufflepuff girl. Lindsay Davies was in their year, but usually a very quiet girl who kept to her small group of friends... and like most of their house avidly avoided Ianto under normal circumstances.

She was clearly unsure of herself, and managed to hesitate to speak long enough for Owen to get impatient, "Can we help you?" he asked in one of his less pleasant tones. The one that generally managed to say 'oh just piss off already'.

"Um... our new professor's on the train, and he wanted to see us." she indicated Ianto with a slightly shaky wave, to make it clear the teacher only wanted to see her and Ianto. Not the other three.

"Oh, what'd you do?" Owen asked him, positively gleeful at the chance he might be in trouble.

Ianto shrugged vaguely, "Nothing this year." he said, rather surprised at this summons, himself. "Yet." he added for good measure.

Lindsay shot him a very wary look for this. Yes, most of Hufflepuff were of the firm belief that he was a Slytherin in disguise, and therefore obviously pure evil. He hadn't bothered to dispute this belief because he honestly didn't care about their opinions of him.

"Well, may as well see what he wants." he said, setting aside his book and standing to follow Lindsay, who quickly led the way almost certainly determined to stay well out of his reach as long as she had to so much as be in his company.

She led him all the way down the train, not speaking at all.

It got a bit annoying after they had passed through a couple of carriages, and he finally pointed out rather irritably, "I don't bite you know."

She shot a wary look over her shoulder at him, "Sorry. It's just you're, well, you hang around with Slytherins. You're a bit scary, is all."

He was disappointed to see that in spite of this honest explanation of her fears she didn't allow him to walk any closer. In fact, she began to glance at him more often, still quite nervous.

Finally, they stopped in the last carriage before the front of the train itself, just outside compartment C, and she gestured to the door. Now Ianto was the one who was wary, as he felt like he was being led into some kind of ambush. When he opened the door it seemed that this suspicion was quite correct, though not of the sort he had anticipated.

It looked very much as though the new professor had arranged a dinner party on the train. The compartment was almost three times its usual size, with a table in the middle adorned with assorted foods you most certainly could not purchase on the snack trolley. The man himself was in serious danger of being on Torchwood's 'suspected Slitheen' list, too, having as he did a girth that managed to take up two seats in the carriage.

There were a small number of other students already seated around the compartment, as well. Ginny Weasley was hiding in a corner behind the professor. Draco Malfoy and his classmate Blaise Zabini sat across from the teacher, both doing their utmost to show disdain for the entire situation. A Gryffindor seventh year Ianto couldn't name sat on the other side of the professor from Ginny, giving the large man a suitably wide berth. And finally, Marcus Belby, one of Ravenclaw's biggest mistakes, sat by the window, stuffing his face with some form of dead bird... consuming it with a shocking speed and gusto that really would put even the most craven carnivores off their lunch.

Ianto, currently being vegetarian, decided it was in his best interests to put the two Slytherin students between himself and any line of sight of Belby... which he did as soon as the teacher greeted them with a suspicious level of cheer, "Ah, welcome, welcome! Miss Davies, Mr Jones! Do have a seat!"

Ianto glanced briefly at Draco... let his eyes dart to Belby, and pulled a disgusted face. Draco nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Lindsay sat next to Ginny, continuing to look like nervousness personified.

A moment later, the door opened once more, and Jack entered, quickly spotting the professor and announcing, "I don't care what Owen said, Professor, I didn't do it!"

Ianto, Ginny and Draco all snorted with laughter, and it was Draco who pointed out, "I don't think we're in any trouble, Harkness. Seems more like a social occasion, to me."

Jack finally took notice of everyone else in the room, and seemed to relax noticeably, "Oh, well in that case..." and with as much cheerful flair as he could muster- and as it was Jack, this was entirely too much- he sat down between Ianto and Draco, and threw an arm around each of them, grinning brightly.

Both of them rolled their eyes, and while Ianto was entirely unbothered by the public display of affection, Draco shifted uncomfortably. Before he could protest, however, the door opened yet again, revealing two more Gryffindors. Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom.

The professor perked up considerably at the sight of them, though it was clear which one he had been eagerly awaiting, "Harry, m'boy!" he cried out, standing to greet the newcomer with far more enthusiasm than any other that had shown up so far. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!"

Neville nodded, very much impersonating a deer in headlights, even as the professor turned away from them and gestured to the remaining seats. There were still plenty to choose from, and both boys managed to find room between Ginny Weasley and the professor's chosen seat.

"Now, do you know everyone?" the professor asked Harry and Neville, "Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini are in your year, of course-" Zabini sneered and Draco glowered, blatantly showing deepest resentment for the very fact they were breathing the same air. "This is Cormac McLaggen." the professor continued, with a gesture to the elder Gryffindor, "Perhaps you've come across each other -? No? And this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether-?" It was becoming perfectly clear that Harry Potter was not the one to ask to name all his fellow students, as he continued to look oblivious. "I don't expect you know Lindsay Davies, or Ianto Jones, then..."

"Actually, we do know each other." Ianto put in, quite determined to trip up the teacher's stream of chatter.

Harry nodded at this, and Neville followed suit.

"Yes, ah, well." the professor seemed relatively unfazed, picking his words up and continuing briskly, "Of course you know Mr Harkness-"

"Everyone knows me." Jack chirped with a cheerful tone that might have fooled Ianto if he hadn't known better.

The professor didn't miss a beat, turning to indicate Ginny now, "And this charming young lady here tells me she knows you!" Ginny scowled deeply. It was obvious that she did not at all appreciate being dragged to the centre of attention by this man.

Silence reigned for a moment. Belby continued to stuff his face, undeterred. Lindsay all but hid behind Ginny. Blaise and McLaggen both did their best to look aloof and unbothered... and both failed miserably. Draco and Harry tried to kill each other with their eyes alone. Even Ianto felt entirely uncomfortable with the entirely unnatural social group the teacher had forced them into.

Jack was the only one not bothered by the situation in the slightest.

"Well now, this is most pleasant." the man said with the kind of eager cheer that made it quite clear he wanted something from them all, "A chance to get to know you all a little better."

"Jack, get your hand off me _now_." Draco said too-calmly.

Ianto snorted, and Jack idly complied with the command, "I doubt that's what he meant, Draco."

"It's what you thought that worries me." Draco retorted bluntly.

"He knows you too well." Ianto stage-whispered, leaning against Jack very slightly and allowing the arm casually draped over his shoulders to pull him into a half-hug.

"Do help yourselves to some lunch." the professor continued, either oblivious or unbothered by Jack's entirely inappropriate behaviour, "I must say it is far more palatable than the trolley, which, as I remember it, is rather heavy on liquorice wands."

Belby muttered something unintelligible, through a mouthful of poultry.

"Ah, of course, Marcus." the professor said amiably, "Did you know I had the pleasure of teaching your uncle Damocles? Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Belby shook his head and mumbled, spitting bits of food as he spoke, "Not much of him, no."

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy." said Slughorn, giving the boy an oddly questioning look, "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose..." Belby muttered sullenly, "Er... he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about..." Something in the teacher's eyes seemed to turn cold and disapproving, and Belby showed the good sense to trail off rather than dig the grave deeper.

Ianto shot a look up at Jack, who seemed more amused than suspicious by the man's behaviour.

Meanwhile, the teacher himself turned to McLaggen, "Now, you, Cormac... I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was." McLaggen bluffed. It was blatant, but the teacher didn't seem to notice the slight twitch in the boy's eye. He must have _hated_ that hunting trip, but he was smart enough to have learned the game from Belby's mistake, "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour, this was before he became Minister, obviously-"

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" the professor asked quite gleefully, "Now tell me..."

"I think I'm going to be sick." Draco whispered darkly, "Which one of my esteemed ancestors should I talk up the most, do you think?"

"I'm going to go with Gwenog." Ianto whispered back.

"Do you think I could get away with saying I'm really close with Agatha?" Jack asked with a dark chuckle.

"Hmm..." Draco snorted, and when the buck was passed to him he cheerfully spent ten minutes going on about a second cousin in the Ministy who he claimed to see every holiday. Zabini turned out to have a black widow for a mother... which didn't surprise Ianto in the least, because he _knew_ his aunt Gwenog's family reputation as one of the Zabini witches herself.

Ianto expressed his talent for misrepresenting the truth when he managed to tell a story about how he had spent some quality time with his aunt just the previous summer, without going into any incriminating details whatsoever. Neville was blatantly uncomfortable when chatted to about his parents being great Aurors.

Lindsay's uncle seemed to be a very famous writer in the wizarding world, though Ianto had never heard of any of the man's work. Her older brother had also just graduated straight into a ministry position at which he excelled.

When it came to Jack, however, the questions were not about his family. Instead he was quizzed about the Triwizard Tournament. Something that kept him talking for a good half hour.

Finally the professor turned to Harry.

"And now." he announced with flair and pride at, "Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer! '_The Chosen One_', they're calling you now!"

Harry didn't speak, looking just as perfectly humiliated and uncomfortable as Neville had when the subject of his parents had been brought up.

"Of course." the professor continued, blissfully oblivious to his victim's discomposure, "There have been rumours for years... I remember when... well- after that terrible night- Lily- James- and you survived- and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary-"

"Bullshit." Draco grumbled darkly, glowering daggers at Harry.

The professor once more failed to notice, but Ginny outright snarled, "Yeah, Malfoy, because you're so talented... at cheating!"

"Oh dear!" the teacher chuckled cheerfully, "You want to be careful, Draco! I saw this young lady perform the most marvellous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!"

"She really is amazing at them." Jack agreed nodding sagely at Draco.

"Anyway," the professor said, turning back to Harry, "Such rumours this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes- but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!"

Harry continued not to speak.

"So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond- you were there, then? But the rest of the stories- so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe- this fabled prophecy, for instance-"

Jack looked ready to come to Harry's rescue against this verbal assault, but Neville of all people beat him to it, "We never heard a prophecy." the shy Gryffindor said, flushing with embarrassment at his own nerve.

"That's right." Ginny agreed with determination, "Neville, Jack and I were there too, and all this '_Chosen One_' rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual."

Jack idly nodded in agreement, looking far too amused by this for his own good.

"You were there too, were you?" the teacher asked them, looking from Ginny to Jack and then to the still-blushing Neville with fascination, "Yes... well... it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course." and off he went on another tangent.

This was going to be a long journey. It might not be so bad if the damned man had at least bothered to introduce himself at some point.

x x x

Harry had spent most of the train journey silently fuming. He had done his best not to show it, but he was downright furious.

He had trusted Jack, and now here he was blatantly fraternising with the enemy. Cosying up to Draco Malfoy, thick as thieves.

Malfoy, the Death Eater.

Just because he had no solid proof, didn't change what Harry had seen in Knockturn Alley, and it didn't change the fact he _knew_ he was right.

When they finally escaped from Professor Slughorn, Harry accosted Jack in the corridor, "What are you doing, hanging out with _him?_" he snapped angrily, glaring bloody murder at Malfoy.

Jack just stared at Harry for all of half a second, looked at Malfoy, then very suddenly- and with significantly more force than Harry would have expected from someone younger than him- he grabbed both Harry _and_ Malfoy by the arms, and shoved them into a nearby empty compartment.

Ianto Jones, never far from Jack's side, slipped in behind them and slid the door closed, looking for all the world like he was expecting to see the funniest show of his life.

"I've had enough of this!" Jack snapped, glowering at both Harry and Draco, "I am sick of the two of you acting like a pair of jealous girlfriends! Any time I so much as speak to one of you the other suddenly develops P.M.S.! I have honestly seen more civilised feuds on Jerry bloody Springer!"

Harry spluttered indignantly, though Malfoy was- perhaps understandably, given the reference to Muggle television- confused.

"I know you hate each other, but I wish you would stop rubbing it in my face." Jack continued, seeming to have got the actual shouting out of the way for now. "I value both your friendships, and I really don't want to have to choose."

"This isn't a game, Jack, it's a war." Harry said coldly, "You'll have to choose eventually."

"I've already chosen my side in the war, and you both know where I stand. That doesn't change a damn thing."

"But- but he's a Death Eater!" Harry protested.

Draco glowered at him, but it seemed more resentment than hate, now. Like he didn't want that to be said out loud, or something.

"Why would it matter if he was?" Jack asked quietly.

"Because he's the enemy!" Harry protested.

Jack just laughed, "I'm my own worst enemy, doesn't stop me from talking to myself!"

Having met the Boggart, Harry could not really argue with this. Jack certainly was more... open than most people. He befriended his own worst fear, why did it really surprise him that he would befriend Malfoy? Didn't mean Harry had to like it, but he honestly wondered... "Is there anywhere you draw the line?"

"So far, I can only think of one person I truly despise." Jack conceded, "And to be perfectly honest he started it."

"See, so did Malfoy." Harry waved at the offending Slytherin.

"I did not!" Malfoy immediately retaliated, "I offered you friendship and you all but spat in my face!"

"You insulted my best friend!" Harry snarled right back.

Malfoy snorted, "Your taste in friends leaves a lot to be desired, Potter."

"Yeah, well your whole attitude leaves a lot to be desired!" Harry snapped right back.

"As does your ability to conjure original insults, it seems." Malfoy grumbled, folding his arms almost sulkily.

"Would it help if I went and got something with the word 'nerf' in it?" Ianto asked casually. Harry wasn't quite sure what that meant, but Jack just shook his head and laughed.

"No, I don't think it really would."

"Jack, if I promise not to kill him in your presence, can I please leave now?" Malfoy asked in a mocking impersonation of a polite tone.

"Smug git." Harry growled.

"I think Harry's the one who needs to make that promise, right now, Draco." Jack said calmly. Harry didn't quite meet his eyes. Sure, he knew Jack couldn't read him without physical contact, but he just didn't want to look at his so-called 'friend' right now.

"How can you be friends with this bigoted ferret-faced bastard?" he asked coldly, instead.

"Because a long time ago, someone once taught me to see the good in even the worst scoundrels." Jack said in a genuinely gentle tone. Harry met his eyes now, and was suddenly reminded quite clearly of the time Jack had told him about those two heroes- friends- who had saved his life and caused his immortality.

"Yeah...? Well I think you're really pushing it with this one." Harry said coldly, shoving past Jack and leaving the compartment.

x x x


	76. It's Only Cheating If You Get Caught

**Author's Note**: Many profuse apologies for hyphenating a perfectly good word... but ffnet wouldn't let me use the full forty-five letters in one go, for some reason.

x x x

**Chapter 76: It's Only Cheating If You Get Caught**

x x x

Jack wasn't especially interested in Dumbledore's speeches, nor the appointment of a new Potions Master (giving Snape the promotion he'd always dreamed of, to Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher). No, what Jack was interested in was the politics within the school. Who stood where in the coming war, why, and how could he turn them to his side.

Draco Malfoy was perhaps the prize piece of his chosen targets, but also by far the trickiest to manipulate. He wasn't worried about it right now. Instead, he paid attention to the Sorting.

He recognised some pureblood names as they were placed into various houses. Another Smith in Hufflepuff... there were a lot of separate branches of that family, but they all ended up in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, the one time someone with that surname had gone to another house had been a coincidence rather than the same family. Paula Penrose and Judith Cattermole in Ravenclaw, Alex Ryan in Gryffindor, Martin Hopkirk, also in Gryffindor... and then there were the Slytherins.

Dana Anderson was first to join their table, and when prompted by one of the seventh years she rather naively admitted that her parents were both Muggles. Jack wasn't sure which was worse for her future in this house, the fact she could have passed for a member of the Weasley clan, or that she had just announced her lack of a bloodline right in front of Malfoy, Avery and Travers.

Next was Frederick Burke, a pale and dark-haired boy who quite proudly identified himself as Pureblood. Jack remembered seeing a shop in Knockturn Alley with this surname over it.

Humphrey Dawlish was the son of a well-known (if often ridiculed by the Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix alike) Auror. While the Auror in question was a pureblood, the rather unsavoury books that Jack had researched to get to know the wizarding bloodlines a bit better had vehemently insulted the man for marrying a Muggle-born witch. The boy was rather mousey and nervous, and looked absolutely horrified at the fact he had just been Sorted into Slytherin house.

Esme Diggory had cheerfully waved at some friends in Ravenclaw as she had walked up the aisle to be Sorted, and seemed utterly unperturbed by her placement in Slytherin, shrugging to her dumbstruck friends and seating herself happily next to Dana. She responded cheerfully to Jack's greeting, but then promptly avoided participating in any further conversation. She was a listener, which made her valuable in and of itself.

When Briar Lockhart stepped up to the Sorting Hat, it was to the accompaniment of many dark mutterings and amused snickers from the rest of the school. Jack asked Nott about this, and was cheerfully informed that the girl's famous uncle Gilderoy Lockhart had taught at Hogwarts the year before Jack had started here, and had been forced to leave his position after losing his mind to a backfiring memory spell. Nobody had liked Gilderoy Lockhart, and they all found it infinitely amusing to be reminded of the event that most likely would have traumatised any young relatives who might have cared about the man at the time.

Caerus Macnair was the son of a Death Eater. He didn't admit as much, but Jack had done enough research to be certain of it. Interestingly, he didn't act out about it, and seemed more the quiet sort. Definitely worth making friends with, if for nothing more than a little extra inside information.

Riona McLaggen was a perfect stereotype of a rebellious emo. The eleven-year-old even wore black lipstick and eye-makeup, and went so far as to flip off her Gryffindor brother as she sauntered over to the Slytherin table.

Michael Pucey was a pureblood from an infamous Quidditch family. His older brother had been bought by the Falmouth Falcons only a year out of Hogwarts, on the power of the family name alone. Unfortunately, he spent entirely too much time prattling about Quidditch to give even the least hint of his political views.

Hector Runcorn was a no-brainer, his uncle was a Death Eater, his father was a Ministry representative who often voted and campaigned for the most vicious anti-Muggle legislations, and boy did this kid reflect that way of thinking. There really was at least one in every year.

And finally, Melanie Williams, a small mocha-skinned girl with the kind of blinding smile that was clearly hiding something. Jack knew that smile because he used it all the damn time. She claimed to be half-blood, with a wizard father, though her surname wasn't in the book Jack had researched.

Jack was careful to take the time to be warm friendly to all of the new students, even Runcorn who was doing his utmost to avoid the attention. It took very little time or effort for him to have ingratiated himself to each one individually and the entire class as a whole.

From the moment that Dana had joined the table, right through to their arrival at Slytherin common room, he had played host to the new first years, much to the amused pleasure of Derrin Harper, who was the Prefect designated with the task, and who was more than happy to fob said task off on a more willing victim.

It was honestly amazing how easily most people overlooked children as a valuable source of information, when they were so apt to absorb every detail their parents and friends let slip around them, and then repeat it word for word like a somewhat more intelligent parakeet. He had learned that the hard way, having had great difficulty making his own daughter understand the art of keeping secrets _before_ she found out too much about Torchwood.

Not to mention the fact that in most cases influencing the children can affect the parents' opinions and allegiances. It wasn't a guarantee, but bringing even one junior Death Eater to his side would be infinitely more valuable than any alliance he could make with the children of Aurors and celebrities.

He would work on the older students later, but first impressions were so much easier to manipulate.

x x x

Torchwood's first class of the new term was Divination. Or Ancient Runes, if you're Tosh.

Trelawney looked positively dumbfounded by Jack's presence, "My dear boy, I did not expect you to be with us still." Owen nearly choked laughing. Then again, her comments meandered idly in the direction of his poor grades, and it became vaguely possible she might have meant that she just expected him to ditch the class. Not likely, though.

Jack took it all in his stride in a way that made Owen extremely nervous.

The team- minus Tosh, who Owen found himself oddly missing during their classes apart- settled around one of the small tables, and took out their books.

"Now, if you would all turn to page-"

"One hundred and eight. Tarotmancy." Jack said quite clearly, with a nod, before even opening said book.

"Bloody hell, he's right." Owen sulked, scanning the incredibly inane preface to the chapter on Tarot card readings.

"Well... yes, that's quite right, young man." Trelawney said, nonplussed but continuing in her misty pseudo-mystical voice all the same, "Page one hundred and eight. This term we shall be studying-"

This time she didn't stop when Jack interrupted, and they both spoke in perfect synch, "The ancient and mystical art of Tarotmancy." though Jack's tone was decidedly irreverent, and the grin he was trying to hide bordered on manic, "You shall be learning to recognise and interpret the symbols of the cards. The Arcana and the suits. All will tell you much about yourselves and your destinies!"

"This can not be good." Gwen muttered, eyes wide as she- and most of the class for that matter- gaped at Jack's little performance. Not only was he somehow able to know what Trelawney was going to say before she said it, but he was hamming it up for all he was worth, and all.

"How's he doing it?" Ianto asked, looking around the room with suspicion.

"Now-" both Jack and Trelawney began together, but she stopped, and he just grinned maddeningly at her. Waiting, like a feral cat just daring the mouse to run so he could play. "We-" Again, perfect synch. "I would like to-" Trelawney fumed. Jack was unrepentant. "Mr Harkness, what _do_ you think you're doing?"

He even had the nerve to speak along with _that_ line! How he was doing it didn't matter anymore, where he got the balls to do it was what Owen was wondering right now.

Then, however, Jack turned and looked across the room at Thadius Vance, "Bless you."

Vance sneezed.

"What the-?" Owen mumbled in wonderment.

Silence reigned for a moment. Then Trelawney shifted her shawls a bit tighter around herself, as if that physical act could recover and wrap some of her dignity around her as well. "Now, as I was saying-"

But Jack was doing it again. Perfectly in time, to the point where it wasn't just weird, it was getting a bit creepy.

She eyed him beadily for a few seconds, then quickly spouted off a string of random words, "Sherry, tulips, budgerigars, dodecahedrons and neurotic penguins! Mrs Norris talks in her sleep!" a brief pause, then as fast as humanly possible, "Pneumono-ultramicroscopic-silicovolcanoconiosis!"

Jack got every word right. Downright scary, now, really.

"Damn..." Avery could be heard muttering under his breath.

"I'm more impressed that he got her to say that word, to be honest." Gwen muttered.

"Oh, Professor, you've got mail." Jack said brightly.

A second later, an eagle owl swept in through the window and landed on the table behind the where Trelawney stood. She spun around quickly and snatched the letter out of the startled bird's beak and shooed it away before turning back around to keep a watchful eye on Jack. The owl ruffled its feathers with great indignance, squawked angrily, startling the unfortunate teacher, and took off with much pomp and circumstance, as if deeply offended that the woman dare treat it like that.

Owls usually mimicking their humans, as Owen had found out to his misfortune when Aderyn pecked at him in retaliation for some minor rude remarks involving coffee, this one was probably the messenger bird of someone who thought very highly of themselves indeed.

"It's from Professor Slughorn." Jack informed her, "He wants to meet you after class for a private chat."

"Oh, now you're just taking the piss." Owen grumbled.

"D-Dear Professor Trelawney." the somewhat frazzled woman stammered weakly, reading from the letter, "I wondered if we might have a chat this evening, in my office. I have heard such interesting stories about your family and your Gift, and I would be most fascinated to meet a true Seer such as yourself. Eagerly awaiting your reply, Professor Horace Slughorn."

Owen burst out laughing, and the rest of the class were quick to follow suit.

"Slughorn fancies Trelawney!" Lucy Rosier shouted out gleefully.

The excited babble didn't die down for the rest of the lesson, during which Owen actually deigned to read some of the book they were meant to be learning from. In fact, the Torchwood team were the only ones bothering to do so, as the rest were frantically gossiping, and Trelawney showed no signs of stopping them. She was eyeing Jack suspiciously, though. All through the rest of the class.

Finally, they escaped the stifling room, and Owen turned on Jack immediately.

"What was that all about?" he demanded.

"Just wanted to prove to her that I didn't deserve a failing grade." Jack said with a shrug, "I think I made my point."

"Yeah, but how?" Gwen asked, still looking quite bewildered by the whole thing.

"Now it wouldn't be a secret if I went and told everyone, would it?" Jack chided.

"You were in two places at once." Ianto said flatly, "I saw you."

That deflated the Captain's ego a bit. "What?"

"I saw you, hiding behind the bookcase." Ianto explained, calm and measured as you please, as if Jack finding more time travel was in any way something to be calm about, "You must have listened to the entire lesson, then found a way to go back in time and use that knowledge to pull off this... practical joke."

Jack blinked once, but then all evidence of surprise evaporated and he was his usual cocky self again, "But you've got to admit, it was a good prank."

Ianto rolled his eyes in a fairly patronising way, "Yes." and his tone was equally patronising, too, "I'm sure the Weasley twins would be proud if they could see you now."

x x x

Severus was confused.

He did not like the feeling of absolute certainty that he knew something important, and yet he was unable to remember it. It made him somewhat nauseous, in a way that was still somehow all in his head. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was beginning to think Black might be right- something he would still never admit to the man's face- that there was a Secret out there, somewhere, and if not for the enchantment he _should_ know what it was.

The fact that Black had outright interrogated him before the school year, then laughed in his face was really what made him so certain of it. He was missing something important and all he could tell about it was that it had something to do with Jack Harkness.

He couldn't shake the feeling that the boy was entirely too cheerful, even though he was unable to recall any rational reason to the contrary. This wasn't in any way similar to his feeling regarding Potter, where he merely _wished_ the boy misery. No, he was quite sure that there _was_ a good reason Harkness should be less than happy, but every time he tried to think on the subject he developed a terrible headache.

It bothered Severus so much that the sight of Harkness laughing and joking with his classmates positively set him on edge.

It took him a week to work up the resolve, to convince himself that there was even really something wrong- that he wasn't just imagining it all due to stress, overwork and paranoia- before he was able to confront the boy.

"Harkness." he called, as the Defence Against The Dark Arts class was beginning to file out, "A word?"

Most infuriatingly, this immediately caused not only Harkness, but Alderton, Cooper, Harper, Jones, Radford, Sato and Vance all stop in their tracks. Harkness himself gave Severus an oddly questioning look, which only seemed to last a moment, before he waved his friends away... except Jones, who he caught by the arm and whispered to before turning back to Severus.

"Of course, Professor." he said far too cheerfully.

Jones, at least, had the good grace to be wary. Severus glowered at the Hufflepuff boy, but neither student seemed intimidated enough to back down. Either he was losing his touch, or they were up to something they both considered extremely important. He chose to believe the latter, which only heightened his suspicion of the entire situation.

As soon as the other students had gone, and before Severus could more rudely order Jones to leave as well, Harkness spoke up, his voice far too confident and authoritative, "You're wondering about something important that happened over the holidays, but you can't quite remember what, am I right?"

So he was being direct, for a change. This would be interesting. "Correct." Severus said coldly.

"You witnessed a murder, but even that detail keeps fading." Harkness continued, "The reason for this is the Fidelius charm, and I really don't think you need to know the Secret yet."

"Got enough to be getting on with, from what I've heard." Jones muttered, amused.

Severus glowered at both boys, "Does this mean you expect me to trust a pair of children with valuable information?" he demanded darkly.

"Don't play dumb, Professor. You know I'm not a child." Harkness sniped, smirking even as he said it. The sheer nerve was fraying Severus' already rather thin patience. "The point is, I've been thinking about it, and the best way to deal with this is to tell you, then make you forget."

"That way the Fidelius charm won't distort your perception of the incident." Jones said far too efficiently, "A good Obliviator can plant harmless false memories to fill in the gaps."

"And I suppose you think you can perform such a spell flawlessly?" Severus sneered.

"Yes." was Jones' simple and honest answer. "It's seventh year material. I have read ahead." he added, in a tone that clearly said he believe it to be truthful, and not merely boasting.

Severus drew his wand, feeling distinctly defensive in spite of the fact that both of them were mere students, "Very well. Tell me."

Jones looked to Harkness. A loyal follower looking for orders. Harkness nodded.

"Jack is immortal." Jones said bluntly, "It's not his fault, he never asked for it, but when he dies he always comes back."

Then Harkness continued, "Also, we're time travellers from ten years in the future, neither of us are the age we appear, we're both at least ten years older."

"At least." Jones snorted, trying not to laugh.

"The man whose murder you witnessed was in fact a past version of myself, who for the purposes of a good cover story is pretending to be my father."

Severus was- quite justified he would think- in shock. Yes, the difference between Harkness' apparent age and his behaviour had been explained. Time travel was indeed possible though it had never been attempted over such a long span before. The immortality, on the other hand, while he felt an absolute certainty that it was true- a side effect of the Fidelius charm's Secret being revealed to him- he was utterly horrified by it.

"Immortality is only attainable through dark magic." he bit out through gritted teeth, wand aimed squarely at Harkness' chest.

"As my Secret Keeper said." Harkness said his voice cold now, "I didn't ask for it."

"A likely story." Severus growled.

"This is one reason you need to forget." Jones said, his voice soft but carrying and warning nonetheless, a tone Severus himself preferred to use whenever possible. "We knew you wouldn't understand."

Severus glowered at the boy, who dared aim a wand at him now.

"And you'll tell Dumbledore the first chance you get. Or worse, Voldemort." Harkness pointed out carefully, "We're still not quite sure which side you're on."

Severus sneered at him in revulsion, "My true loyalty? You really wish to hear it?"

"It would help." Jones said idly.

"My true loyalty is to protecting the innocents caught in the crossfire, whichever side ends up winning. That is the only reason I still fight."

Harkness smiled at that, a genuine and almost warm smile, if oddly a bit sad, "You know, out of everyone else I've spoken to so far about this damned war, that's the closest thing to being on my side that I've heard yet."

However, before Severus could reply to this surprising statement, he heard Jones' voice say calmly, "Obliviate."

And he would never again know that this conversation had happened.

x x x

"I think I've cracked it!" Tosh cried, positively gleeful, "The Chamber of Secrets' pedestal had unidentified runes, right?" she continued, sitting sharply down opposite Owen and Gwen, at the Gryffindor table at dinner time, the following weekend. As it _was_ a weekend, and students tended to filter in at odd times, nobody else was there yet, so they didn't feel the need to urgently shush her for saying the words 'Chamber of Secrets' too publicly. "Well I saw some of those same runes on the pipe under the sink. You know, the one Myrtle hissed at to open? She told me that she caught a boy in her bathroom, looking at them, back when she was alive. I think it might have been- you know- Voldemort."

"So?" Owen asked, staring rather blankly.

"So, what can Voldemort do that no linguistics scholar in the Wizarding World can?" Tosh prodded. Unfortunately, she failed to notice the shadow falling over her until it was too late, and the newcomer had overheard this entire question.

"Parseltongue." Harry Potter said bluntly, before sitting down next to her and across from Gwen, "He can speak snake language."

Tosh stammered for a moment, "Ah... I- I'm sorry, I-"

"It's alright." Harry said with a shrug, "I'm friends with Hermione. I know that leading tone that said you already knew the answer anyway." He reached across the table and started serving himself a plate of pork chops and chips, "What got you so excited about him, anyway?" He glanced at Gwen and Owen as well, before returning his attention to Tosh.

"I- I think I might have found something that's... that's _written_ Parseltongue." Tosh explained nervously, shooting surreptitious glances at her friends, "I've been trying to translate it since second year. Gone through all the runes texts I could get my hands on, and found nothing. Then Moaning Myrtle-"

"I love that girl's nickname." Jack announced, appearing much more stealthily at the table than Harry had done. No looming shadow or anything, just one moment he wasn't there the next he was.

"Bet you do." Owen grumbled, dragging Jack down into a seat by the sleeve of his robe, "Sit down, you twat."

Tosh scowled, seeming to have lost her train of thought... then, "Moaning Myrtle said something that makes me think it might have been something _he_ could read."

"How does that help us?" Owen asked blankly.

"Harry speaks Parseltongue." Jack said simply.

Owen gaped at him, "How would you know that?"

"Everyone in Slytherin knows it. Big damn joke, down there." Jack shrugged and stole a couple of sausages from the platters in the middle of the table.

Owen stared at Jack for all of half a second, then shook his head in disgust.

"Wait, so that means..." Tosh asked, turning hopefully to Harry. Hopeful mad-scientist look, really.

Harry hesitated, "What, exactly, is it you want me to do?" he asked nervously.

"Just a translation." Tosh said chirpily. Harry relaxed all of a fraction, before she added, "In the Chamber of Secrets."

x x x


	77. Secrets Secrets And Oh Yes More Secrets

x x x

**Chapter 77: Secrets, Secrets, And Oh Yes, More Secrets**

x x x

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this." Harry grumbled, staring in revulsion at the sink that led down to that pit of hell known as the Chamber of Secrets, "And come to think of it, how did any of you lot get down there in the first place?"

"Myrtle remembered the hissing noise you made before." Jack said with a faint shrug, "Or maybe she remembered _him_?"

"It was Harry." Myrtle's breathy voice drifted down from above the nearest toilet cubical, followed closely by the ghost herself, "I didn't really care much for the other one. Such a terribly rude boy."

"Oh, but Harry you fancy?" Owen asked, grinning.

Myrtle's eyes flashed dangerously as she turned on Owen, "_DID I ASK YOU?_" she snarled.

"Relax, Myrtle." Jack said gently, reaching a hand up to brush past her icy and incorporeal shoulder, "Just ignore him when he gets like this. We all do."

Myrtle huffed a bit, turned her nose up quite pointedly at Owen, then floated a little closer to Jack, slightly behind and to his left.

He could feel the chill in his shoulder at the proximity, but really didn't mind. He'd once dated a Risian, and their species' skin was colder. Instead of flinching, as most people did when a ghost got too close to them, Jack turned and very carefully moved his arm up to behind her waist. Very carefully, particularly to avoid passing his arm right through her... because that would be rude.

She floated slightly forwards, allowing the illusion that he was holding her lightly around the waist, even though it really was pure illusion. All he could feel was the cold radiating off her, and a slight breeze against his cheek when she spoke, "See, at least somebody has some manners." she sneered smugly at Owen.

Owen pulled a face.

Harry looked- rather than unsettled or shocked by the display- relieved. As if he was grateful her teenage-girl-angst-fuelled attention was on Jack, instead of him. Jack smirked faintly, a knowing look. Then quickly asked, all business once more, "Well, shall we try this?"

Harry scowled at the sink, "What exactly do I have to do?"

Tosh knelt down and indicated the pipes hidden beneath the sink, "Right here. It's the same language as the symbols down in the Chamber."

Harry knelt next to her and looked up, idly muttering, "Lumos." as he did so, to see what he was meant to be looking at. He only spent a moment looking at it, before announcing, "Looks like English to me."

"Then I was right!" Tosh cheered, "It must be Parseltongue! What does it say?"

"Beneath lie the Secret Chambers of Salazar Slytherin." Harry read plainly, as if reading a simple passage from a textbook, "Only blood of my blood may enter. Let the serpent be your guide."

"Sounds simple enough." Jack said with a frown, "I guess that whole blood thing means that Parseltongue is usually hereditary?"

"Guess so." Harry said, a bit sulky at that suggestion, as he stood up and looked at the snake, "You want to go down there, now, don't you?" he added, almost miserably.

"The danger's gone now." Owen pointed out, "But there's still a lot of valuable stuff down there."

Harry rolled his eyes and then turned and hissed at the sink, which immediately sprang to life, shifting in ways porcelain is not designed to bend, until it finally revealed the secret tunnel down into the depths below the castle.

"We'll levitate down in pairs." Tosh offered, turning to Owen.

"But... slide?" Jack asked plaintively, causing Harry to snort with laughter.

"It's disgusting." Owen sneered, "Remember last time, with the slime?"

"Remember the cleaning spell?" Jack retaliated, "I'm going down the fun way."

Owen choked with revolted amusement. Ianto actually covered his face with his palm, trying very hard not to laugh. Gwen and Tosh rolled their eyes almost synchronously. Harry didn't get it.

Jack turned to Myrtle, "I'll see you again, soon. Promise, honey." and he kissed the ghost... or as close as you can get, considering ghosts are incorporeal. She giggled and floated back a little, looking positively cheerful for a change.

Jack grinned his blinding hero grin, and jumped down into the tunnel/slide. He heard at least one person jump in after him, though he couldn't tell exactly how many had chosen to follow him. He was sure he heard laughter from behind and above him, though.

When he emerged into the ancient and uncared-for subterranean tunnel, he quickly picked himself up and stepped to the side, just in time to for Harry to come flying out behind him... soon followed by Ianto, and then Gwen. Gwen was the one who had been laughing, and she still was for several seconds after landing and picking herself up off the ground. Tosh and Owen took a little longer, and appeared perfectly spotless, as both their levitation spells had been accurate and skilful enough to avoid the sides of the pipe entirely.

"Show offs." Gwen muttered, still grinning even as she tried to regain some manner of dignity.

"Really don't know why you're worried about a bit of dirt, Owen." Ianto said casually, "Remember the enchantments we found down here, before?"

Owen sneered.

Harry, on the other hand, looked downright puzzled, "Enchantments?" he asked in a worried tone.

"Nothing dangerous." Jack reassured him.

"That we found, at least." Ianto added more ominously, smirking in an almost cruel way as he said it.

Harry stared at each of them in turn, "What have I gone and gotten myself into this time?" he asked with a resigned sigh, before shrugging and leading the way down the underground tunnel.

x x x

It didn't take long for them to reach the large atrium, once more, where the dead Basilisk still lay half-coiled in the corner. It was even worse than the last time they had seen it, mostly rotted down to the skeleton... except around the skull. Its damaged eyes did not appear to have decayed at all, and the venom still looked fresh.

"Is it just me..." Jack asked, approaching the corpse of the creature warily, "Or is this one of those things that's still just as deadly even once it's dead itself?"

Harry scowled, stepping back a little from it, until he nearly bumped into Tosh and Owen. Gwen put a hand on his shoulder lightly to try to reassure him, and it did seem to work somewhat.

"Anyone else remember the legend of Medusa?" Ianto asked, with a nervous twitch of a smile, "Could still petrify you even after she'd been decapitated."

Jack chuckled, now standing close enough to it that, as far as Tosh recalled, he should be able to smell it even in spite of the spells that seemed to keep the stench localised to the corpse. If he did smell it, he didn't show any sign of revulsion. "Well I don't think this big boy here is going to be petrifying anyone, after whatever went at his eyes."

"Great." Owen grumbled, "He can tell dead snakes' gender. Is anyone surprised?"

"I'd have guessed the same." Ianto pointed out, "It has a plume of what was probably once red on its head."

"Exactly." Jack agreed, now closely examining the remaining fang, which still dripped vivid green venom, "In most species, it's the males that like to show off the fancy colours. Humans are unusual like that."

"You mean humans in this century." Ianto deadpanned, folding his arms and smirking.

"I don't want to know!" Owen cried, Tosh and Gwen to giggle, and Harry to snort with poorly suppressed laughter.

Jack ignored them, instead asking, "Owen, you're the potions expert. How valuable do you think Basilisk venom might be?"

"You could name your price, mate." Owen said blankly, "Not exactly like it grows on trees."

"I think we'll be having this, then." Jack said with a nod, "Later." and suddenly he turned back to face them, sauntering cheerfully over to the rest of the team... and Harry, "Let's get on with what we came down here for... before anyone starts wondering what the five of us could possibly all be mysteriously absent for."

"Yes, we don't want people to get the wrong idea." Owen snarked. Once more, the girls giggled. This time, Harry didn't seem to see what was so funny.

Tosh quickly trotted over to the concealed door, and unlocked it, "In here, Harry." she called over, the laughter still in her eyes.

Harry frowned, but followed in spite of his evident uncertainty. He jumped when the cleaning spell erased all evidence of the slimy pipe they had used to get down here, but when the others showed no concern, he shakily brushed it off.

"You know you guys are creepy, right?" he asked them, "You just act like you know what you're doing, and expect everyone else to take your word for it."

"Today we do know what we're doing." Jack pointed out.

"But usually, it's all an act." Ianto stage-whispered, grinning.

Jack ignored this slight, gesturing expansively to the laboratory room, "What do you think?" he asked, grinning.

"It's impressive." Harry admitted, "I had no idea there was anything else down here."

"Why'd you think they called it the Chamber of Secret_s_?" Owen asked, "Why not the Chamber of One Big Secret?"

Harry blinked. That thought had clearly never occurred to him. And probably not to anyone else in Hogwarts, either, most likely.

"Come on, this way." Tosh beckoned Harry to follow him into the other room, and they all trooped in after her. She stepped up to the plinth, and showed Harry the markings, "I think these are the same as on the pipes." she said hopefully.

Harry looked at the strange runes for a moment, then nodded, "Yeah, I can read it."

"Well?" Jack asked hopefully, while they all crowded in around him to see, and Tosh positively bounced on the balls of her feet in eager anticipation.

Harry gave them all a vaguely bemused look, before looking down and reading from the plinth, "It says... _'This sanctuary of air lies beneath earth and water. Name my fourth and arise.' _"

"Anyone else here ever read Lord of the Rings?" Owen asked suddenly, sceptically. He hesitated on the word 'read' though... he clearly _meant_ watch.

"Yes, actually." Gwen said with a nod, "It only required that you speak the word in the language it was written."

"And the word would be?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Air, earth, water and..." Tosh said carefully, in a leading tone.

It only took a beat of silence, before... "Fire." all six of them said at once.

Harry then turned to look down at the plinth. The writing in Parseltongue... a language that shouldn't even _have_ a written form, yet there it was. He made a soft hissing sound, and the plinth turned in a half-circle, with an ominous grinding noise followed by a solid thunk. A light glowed around them, and they suddenly found themselves outside.

They were all standing together, at the furthest point along the bank of the lake that was still within the grounds. A piece of stone perfectly matching that of the plinth was set into the ground at their feet. It looked like a plaque or grave marker, right by the edge of the water. It had a brazier built into the top of it, carved in an ornate design somewhat reminiscent of a phoenix, but unlike the plinth in the Chamber, it had been weathered horribly by time.

Harry knelt at it, almost immediately, and read the faded marks, "_'Fire burns in the air by the water. Name my fourth and descend.'_ "

"So very simple." Tosh said, brightly, "But brilliant."

"Why's it brilliant?" Owen asked, scowling.

"Because you can't even read the question if you can't speak Parseltongue." Tosh explained, with her usual excitement, "It's the perfect coded lock."

Ianto snorted with amusement, "So at least that part of the legends were true, then. Only someone with the gift of Slytherin can gain access to the Chamber of Secrets."

"Not accounting for people with good memories eavesdropping." Owen snarked.

Harry scowled at them all, "You know Salazar Slytherin was evil, right?"

"We know that's the popular theory." Jack countered, "From what I can gather, it's all hearsay. The history books suggest he was more of a mad scientist than an evil overlord... and believe me, I've met both. Dated both, actually, but that's not the point."

"So what's Parseltongue for 'earth'?" Tosh asked efficiently. A little too efficiently.

"You're recording this, aren't you?" Owen asked, with absolute certainty.

"Well, of course." she answered, eyes wide as if she positively was shocked that he could dare think otherwise.

Harry laughed, "You lot are downright scary. You know that, don't you?" he informed them, before answering their question with another hissing sound.

In another flash of brilliant white light they were once more in the plinth room of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Alright." Jack laughed, "Who wants to make this our new base?"

"Right." Owen snorted, "Because that's just what we really need, another top secret underground lair that everybody knows about."

x x x

That weekend was perhaps one of the most enjoyable for Owen and Tosh, since they had been de-aged.

They spent all their time down in the Chamber, researching... and there was certainly plenty to research. It would probably keep them busy for months. Owen started to read up on potions that were far more advanced than anything that existed in modern magical medicine, while Tosh sifted through charms and arithmantic formulae that Salazar Slytherin had come up with centuries ago, but were more complex than the N.E.W.T. textbooks.

They had unfettered access to a fully stocked- and magically self-replenishing- potions lab, and reading material by the best wizarding minds of an age long gone by.

There were Transfiguration texts written by Rowena Ravenclaw, books on household enchantments penned by Helga Hufflepuff, even a duelling guidebook by Godric Gryffindor. Some of the older scrolls here were even written by Merlyn himself.

What today might be called Dark Arts was written about objectively, in books and scrolls that focused on the beneficial effects of these spells and seemed positively oblivious of their dangers. Conversely, there was a particularly large tomb by Salazar himself titled '_Twelve Hundred Things That Civilised Creatures Should Never Do With Everyday Spells_'.

Now some of _those_ were downright hilarious!

It did surprise and somewhat confuse Owen, however, that even after they discovered a few more hidden rooms (including a library! Did everyone have one except Gryffindor tower?) Tosh chose to sit next to him whenever the option was available. Every time.

Not that he minded. She was good company, and all. Still, it wasn't like they couldn't talk across a room... not like they'd be overheard all the way down here or anything. He didn't get it.

Eventually, however, it had to end, and they were forced to return to the monotony of school and classes, instead of _real_ research and, well, anything interesting at all.

So it was that by Tuesday morning's potions class, Owen was in a downright foul mood.

It wasn't just school being school, though. No, it was Draco Malfoy's fault, really. The snarky git had loudly vocalised his displeasure about the situation, and thus made Owen realise the unfairness of it all. Yep. Malfoy was good for something, and now Owen would put this information to use.

"Professor?" he asked, raising his hand.

"Yes, Mr ah-?" Slughorn felt the need to look down at the class attendance sheet to check his name, which riled him somewhat, "Harper?"

"How come the sixth years got a competition to win a cool potion like Felix Felicis, and we didn't?"

Slughorn chuckled too jovially, "Well, dear boy, I should think that was obvious. They are sixth years, after all. N.E.W.T. classes are far more advanced, and I shouldn't think your year would be up to such a challenge."

"Want to bet?" Owen asked, only adding as a purposefully impudent afterthought, "Professor."

"Oh, now, I'm not the gambling sort, really." Slughorn waved him off, causing him to seethe just a little bit more.

"Well why not at least make a challenge set to our level, then?" Owen insisted.

"Because we all know you would win, Owen." Gwen said in a blandly cheerful way, "And the teacher is intelligent enough not to let you within a mile of such a potion."

"Then I'll just figure out how to make it myself." Owen said with determination, folding his arms to emphasise his petulance.

"Oh gods, no!" Jack cried out in mock horror at the very thought. "Owen, with pure luck on his side... that's downright terrifying!"

"That does it. I'm gonna make it." Owen declared.

"We're all doomed." Gwen grumbled, burying her face in her hands, on the desk.

Nobody would ever have gotten away with this sort of behaviour in Snape's class, but Professor Slughorn had turned out to be rather soft when it came to discipline. You could get away with almost anything in his class, short of murder... or worse, sabotaging another student's potion.

x x x

As far as anyone in the school who had ever known about it in the first place was aware, the D.A. seemed to have disbanded. At least for the time being. Jack did plan to unsubtly hint at Harry that they should restart the club, possibly even on more legitimate terms, but right now he had far more important things on his mind.

Namely, Ianto... and the hidden room on the seventh floor, towards which they were headed right now.

All thoughts of what he planned to do once they were alone together evaporated instantly, however, when they arrived in said corridor. It was not deserted. Feigning innocence was the most logical option to someone from the twentieth century, and this was what Ianto did the instant he saw the two Hufflepuff first-year girls loitering right where the door to the Room was concealed.

Jack, on the other hand... well, he didn't think they needed to know the details, but certainly felt the need to let them know where they weren't wanted.

"You know, Filch is filing an application for permission to flog loiterers." he told them, entirely truthfully. Ianto had informed him of this, though there was absolutely no way that such a request from the caretaker would ever be honoured.

The two girls stared at him with apparent terror, but neither one moved a muscle. It would be almost comical, if it weren't so inconvenient.

"Don't you have homework, or something?" Ianto tried in a more civilised manner.

One of them stammered and waved her hand vaguely, making absolutely no sense in any way.

Jack rolled his eyes, and made a sudden move forward, "Scram!" he snapped. They both jumped, and ran off down the corridor, one of them having dropped a rack of empty potions vials as she did so, leaving a mess of shattered glass on the floor.

"We're going to get blamed for that, you know." Ianto pointed out flatly, trying very hard not to smirk too much.

Jack just shrugged. He did kind of feel sorry for the two girls, but they really had no valid reason to have been lurking there skulking around this obscure seventh floor corridor in the first place. There were no classrooms up here, besides a corridor-bridge that led across to the Divination tower, and even if they had friends in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw towers, the Gryffindor common room was on the far side of the castle, and you could only get into Ravenclaw tower from the sixth floor.

Ianto rolled his eyes and idly casts a cleaning spell which completely removed all trace of the shattered glass from the ground.

Meanwhile, Jack tried to open the door. The trick to it is pacing in front of where you know the room is, and asking it for what you need it to be. Nothing happened. No door, nothing.

When he realised the usual method of entering the room wasn't working, he stopped pacing and turned to stare reproachfully at the wall.

This wasn't just inconvenient, it was downright infuriating.

Sure, he could always find other places to molest Ianto, if he set his mind to it. That wasn't really the issue. No, something was stopping them from gaining access to a room they had used almost _all_ of the last few years, and he wanted to know why. _Needed_ to know why.

His mind started running through possible ways to get in, but most relied on a locked door rather than trying to make a door that wasn't there appear.

He started trying anyway, with "Alohomora."

Ianto, clearly recognising the problem, and possibly a few steps ahead of him tried, "Revelio."

Nothing continued to happen.

"I think we have a problem." Ianto said in his best stating-the-obvious-and-yes-I-know-it voice.

Jack glowered resentfully at the blank wall, as if it had personally offended him, then shook his head to dispel these emotions before reaching out and touching said wall. Trying to get a feel for what the castle itself might be thinking about this. Was she trying to be funny? Her answer came in the form of emotion, much like trying to make sense of the TARDIS, only twenty times as evasive.

_Apology.  
>Yes, alright kind of funny at his expense, but really not her fault.<em>

Okay... is it just me?

_A definite negative response to that question.  
>Offence at the suggestion, even.<br>She wouldn't dream of singling him out in a bad way.  
>He was one of the most polite and considerate students she'd had in a long time.<em>

Still no explanation of what was going on, though.

Jack stepped back, still scowling. Had someone else made the room go away? Or was it still there, but for reasons beyond even Hogwarts' control they were locked out? "Definitely a problem." he agreed, turning to Ianto, "And who are our number one and two suspects?"

"Those two kids?" Ianto spluttered, "Jack, they're only first years!"

"And they're in your house." Jack agreed bluntly, "Don't suppose you could find out what they were doing up here?"

Ianto rolled his eyes, smirking at him in a manner that managed to be both derisive and affectionate, "Only because I know you won't leave well enough alone until I do."

x x x

Three more weeks passed, classes were relatively dull and routine, weekends involved the team splitting up to opposite ends of the castle, with Tosh and Owen in the Chamber of Secrets, Jack and Ianto trying to break into the hidden room on the seventh floor... and Gwen, quickly getting bored being left on her own, went and tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

She had quite taken a liking to flying, after that night she and Ianto had followed Aderyn, and her performance during the try-outs earned her a place as a Chaser, alongside Katie Bell and Ginny Weasley. She had narrowly beaten out Demelza Robins, with a somewhat dramatic goal involving a loop-the-loop to swoop past McLaggen, at the last minute of the tryouts. This both earned Gwen her place as Chaser, and lost McLaggen the chance of being Keeper.

It was now almost Hallowe'en, and the first Hogsmeade visit of the year.

Tosh and Owen had gone down to the Three Broomsticks. Gwen had taken one look at the weather and pleaded homework in a most unconvincing way. Jack and Ianto had agreed with her sentiments and found better places to be, inside the castle where it was warm and there wasn't any sleet or hail.

Owen skulked back to the castle half an hour later, alone and joined Gwen in the homework.

"What happened with Tosh?" Gwen prodded hopefully. She knew those two would make a great couple if Owen would just give Tosh the chance, and she wondered what he'd done now to chase her off.

"Dunno. She just wandered off, didn't even say why." Owen shrugged, "Last I saw, we were in the Three Broomsticks, she went to the bathroom... then I saw her walk right out of there and out the front door. By the time I followed her, she was gone. Bloody snow, couldn't see my hand in front of my face."

"She probably thought of something to research down in the Chamber." Gwen reassured him, "You should go check on her." she added, trying to keep the 'I'm meddling in your love-life' tone out of her voice.

Owen eyed her sceptically, clearly figuring she was up to something, but not getting it. He never got it. "Yeah, guess I should."

x x x


	78. What They Appear

x x x

**Chapter 78: What They Appear**

x x x

Tosh stopped in front of a stone gargoyle, and found herself speaking, against her will, "Albatross."

The gargoyle stepped aside, and Tosh climbed the stairs behind it. Stopped now by a solid oak door, she felt the deep-seated compulsion to knock. Resisting for a moment proved futile, and she reached up briskly, rapping four sharp knocks on the door.

It swung open, and she stepped inside.

The office she found herself in was beautiful, eclectic and full of gadgets and devices she would dearly love to have some private time with, to dissect and reassemble them.

Unfortunately, she was unable to resist the impulse to approach the desk. Seated behind said desk, regarding her with mild interest, was the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

He waited patiently, as she set the package she had been commanded to deliver down on his desk. "And to what do I owe this honour, Miss Sato?"

She tried desperately to fight the command, but found herself answering, "Please open it, Professor." in spite of her growing fear. What if it was a bomb? Or some kind of poison gas? It could be anything!

Dumbledore stared at the box for a moment, then drew his wand and waved it over the object. A scanning motion.

"Please open it now, Professor." she insisted.

Dumbledore looked up at her, meeting her eyes with an eerily unreadable stare. It made her shiver slightly, in spite of the command to remain impassive.

She saw him move, incredibly fast, his wand aimed at her, and the next thing she knew was a solid impact with the ground.

She found herself able to move on her own, once more, and sat up shakily. She had tried so hard to fight it, but everything had seemed so peaceful. Now the world... hurt.

"Might I ask, Miss Sato, who gave you this object?"

"I- I didn't see them." she said weakly, still a bit stunned by what had been done to her, "I'm sorry."

"It was not your fault, Miss Sato." he said gently, "And I'm afraid I must apologise for my attempt to identify the culprit more directly. I would advise a trip to the hospital wing, or you may begin to develop quite the headache."

Tosh nodded shakily, "Of course." she agreed, "I'm really sorry. I tried to fight it."

"It is quite alright. No harm done." Dumbledore glanced at the suspicious package on the table, "Indeed, while the object you were carrying was rather dangerous, it would have caused no damage to my person."

He waved his wand, once more, causing the box to open, revealing a beautifully ornate silver and opal necklace. "Cursed." he said simply, levitating it up, and allowing it to slowly spin around in the air so that they could both get a clear look at it. "To harm only those of Muggle descent. I believe it was a message. A warning."

"Warning what?" Tosh asked, looking up at him curiously, as he helped her to her feet.

"Warning that someone is attempting to penetrate Hogwarts defences." he answered, in a dark tone, "And that they are capable of succeeding."

Tosh frowned for a moment, thinking, "Did you know about this, before now, Professor?"

Dumbledore affected a look of confusion that was only slightly less convincing than Jack's attempts to fool them. "And why might you ask that, Miss Sato?"

Tosh smiled faintly, "Your password. I read it in a poem once." Well, that and there was a rumour that his sweet tooth usually tended to dictate his choice of passwords. Not that she would tell him this, lest he decide to change that habit.

Dumbledore simply smiled serenely. Almost sadly. "I am afraid, Miss Sato, that it is none of your concern."

Tosh nodded, accepting this rather than confronting him. Besides, he had effectively answered yes to her query, anyway. She turned and left the office without another word.

x x x

Tosh ran into Owen on her way up to the Gryffindor common room, looking more than a little bit shaken. It was the closest place she was likely to find friends to the headmaster's office, and she hadn't brought her comm with her on the... not-date.

"Hey, where'd you disappear to?" he asked her, noticing she was upset, "What happened?"

"Somebody cast the Imperius curse on me, when I went to the bathroom." she whispered, "Well... as I was leaving the bathroom. Don't think-"

"Trying very hard not to, believe me." Owen muttered darkly, before becoming quite serious, "What'd they make you do?"

"Just deliver a 'gift'- that's the word they kept using- to Dumbledore." she frowned, calming down a bit, "Got something really dangerous in through the castle's wards, just like that. Dumbledore said it wouldn't have harmed him, though, and he thought it was just a warning."

"Warning?" Owen asked, scowling, "That the castle's not as foolproof as everyone seems to think?"

"Well, there's always a sufficiently talented fool just waiting to try it whenever anyone uses that word." Ianto's voice pointed out from behind her. She spun round quickly to see that he and Jack were both standing at the far end of the corridor, "Sorry, we were on our way to the seventh floor, when we heard you over the comms."

"Still no luck with that then?" Owen asked dismissively, and Ianto shook his head.

"Did you see who cast the curse?" Jack asked Tosh, gently, as both he and Ianto approached them.

Tosh shook her head, "No, they got me from behind."

"But you said they used the word 'gift'. Did you recognise the voice?" Owen asked hopefully.

"It was in my head." Tosh said blankly, "It didn't have a sound at all. I... I kind of got the feeling they hadn't ever done it before, though."

Owen snorted, "How'd you figure?"

Jack hit him. "Shut up, Owen." he hissed.

"Because while the orders didn't have a sound they did have emotion, and they seemed nervous." Tosh answered, not nearly as bothered by Owen's insinuation as Jack seemed to think she should be. She gave Jack an odd look for it, actually. "Something wrong, Jack?"

"Besides the fact that someone just _used_ you to prove a point, not at all." Jack grumbled darkly. There was clearly more to it than that.

"I'm okay, really." Tosh said with a faint shrug, "It was a bit of a shock, of course, but the spell didn't let me be scared until it was over and then I was just plain relieved."

"Didn't _let_ you be scared? How the hell do they manage that, then?" Owen protested.

"That's how the Imperius works, Owen." Ianto said in a tone of forced calm, "They make you feel good so you don't fight as hard against the atrocities they are then able to force you to commit. It's like a drug."

"Damn good one, too." Jack muttered under his breath, causing Tosh to give him another curious look. He was acting like he knew this spell first hand.

Owen rolled his eyes, "Both of you morbid sods, shove off. I'll take Tosh up to Gryffindor and make sure she's okay." he glanced at her warily, adding, "That is if you're okay with that?"

"Of course." she said, smiling and taking his hand when he offered it.

He may still be entirely oblivious to her affection for him, but at least he had been acting a bit more civilised lately. Relatively, of course.

x x x

"Still think the Imperius curse is a good idea, Jack?" Ianto demanded the moment they were alone.

"Remember how I got to wondering about it?" Jack pointed out, "Not exactly under friendly circumstances."

"Yes, someone tries to rape your mind, and you immediately get curious about doing exactly that with someone you like. I can really see where you're coming from here." Ianto sniped sarcastically, folding his arms defensively even as he said it.

"It's not like that." Jack insisted, "For a start, mind-rape is an actual thing, and I promise you it's different. Secondly-"

"Wait, go back to that last one." Ianto said, more than a bit surprised, "You know this, how exactly?"

Jack hesitated for a second, before seeming to resign himself to explaining, "Telepathy is a pretty common thing, in the future... and on other worlds even now. What the wizarding world uses as a pass for it is fairly primitive in comparison, but still about as effective in practical terms. I'm certainly not the most talented, but the Time Agency did train all of its recruits the basics of mind-reading and telepathic self-defence."

When Jack stopped there, Ianto stared rather pointedly for a second, then noted, "Still haven't answered my question." Jack was in his trying-to-hide-something mode, with a dash of you-don't-really-want-to-know... but that always made Ianto all the more curious.

When he finally did answer, it was with some uncertainty, making it clear he thought the answer would offend. "I have first-hand experience of unwilling telepathic connections, from both perspectives. Happy now?"

"Not really, no." Ianto muttered. He had asked for it, after all, but he didn't have to like it. A few seconds passed in tense silence, and Ianto decided it was best to react to this information in one way or another, rather than pretending it hadn't happened. The best course of action was, naturally, what he hoped to be the most unexpected. "Who did that to you? Was it Hart? Can I maim him?"

Jack was unable to resist the instinct to splutter with laughter at this, "It wasn't anyone you know. Either way. I was a Time Agent... sometimes we, and our enemies, resorted to uncivilised methods of extracting information, that's all."

Ianto shrugged, "In the past... relatively speaking."

"Right." Jack said, almost nervous now.

"I still don't get why Imperius is any better."

"I never said better." Jack laughed, "Just very different. There is absolutely no positive side-effect for the victim of a telepathic invasion... but this curse honestly does feel good."

"I'm still not convinced." Ianto sulked, "And now we need to find out who attacked Tosh."

"Right." and just like that Jack was all business again, any hint of vulnerability evaporated in an instant as if it was never there.

But Ianto _had_ seen it... it had certainly seemed like Jack was afraid of offending him or scaring him off. That sort of fear seemed entirely out of place on the overtly overconfident Captain... yet Ianto was sure he hadn't imagined it.

"We need to find out who was in Hogsmeade today. Everyone, not just students but adults as well." Jack began the process of planning a most likely futile investigation. There were too many variables. The attacker could have Apparated straight into the girls' bathroom at the _Three Broomsticks_, and back out again without anyone ever seeing them. There was absolutely no way to be certain.

Not that this would ever stop them from trying, naturally.

x x x

Jack had formed a school club, within Slytherin house. He had even obtained official permission from Professor Snape, and everything.

He hadn't even bothered to name it, or define an official purpose as such, just invited a few of his housemates whom he thought would appreciate a social group where they weren't constantly being told they were expected to act like evil little shits. Both by the prejudiced students in other houses, and the Death Eater wannabes in their own house.

He had then proceeded to both waste time spectacularly, by making the club as random as possible, including games tournaments for chess, gobstones and assorted exploding-card games, study sessions, debate nights (which purposefully kept to the safer subjects like Quidditch and school rather than politics), and he had even started to teach the first years poker of all things... much to Ianto's disapproval.

It had started, quite coincidentally Jack would always claim, on the fourteenth of September, and somehow managed to consistently meet up on the same days as Gryffindor's Quidditch practice. Of course, in reality, Jack held absolutely no delusion that this was a coincidence.

Both he and Harry were actively and intently trying to avoid Professor Slughorn's '_Slug Club_'.

Ianto had even started showing up in Slytherin house on those specific days, after spending only a single evening at one of Slughorn's club suppers. He even had the nerve to point out, privately, that Jack was doing almost exactly the same thing as Slughorn. Collecting people. The only real difference was, Jack had a damned good idea what he was up to, while Slughorn appeared to just be trying to pander to celebrity and talent. Not to mention, Jack threw a much more entertaining club meeting than Slughorn.

Still, he could only do so much with his pet club, before Slughorn tried to track him down.

And eventually, even succeeded, as when you're a student at a school, it's kind of difficult to avoid your teachers indefinitely.

"Ah, there you are, Mr Harkness. Been avoiding me, have we?"

"Not at all, Professor, whatever gave you that idea?" Jack lied unrepentantly.

"Well, I must say, you always seem to be busy whenever I've invited you, and that Hufflepuff friend of yours, Mr Jones, to my weekly club dinners."

"Was it weekly, now?" Jack asked in all feigned innocence, "You must have picked a bad day for us, Professor."

"Oh, yes, quite." Slughorn seemed to completely miss the almost mocking tone Jack had used just there, "But I do insist you both come to my Hallowe'en party. Not the same night as the feast, of course. Wouldn't do to miss that, oh my no, but the night before. I do enjoy organising a few big parties during the year. Hallowe'en, Christmas, Easter, Summer Solstice. This one's going to be a Masquerade, in keeping with the holiday, you know. I have quite a few famous guests, as well. Barnabus Cuffe, Damocles Belby, oh and I did mean to ask, you aren't related to Agatha Harkness, are you?"

"Is she invited?" Jack asked, surprised.

"Ah, well, she was never a student of mine, being that she is somewhat older than Professor Dumbledore and all that, but I do think I might have managed to convince her to pop in for a visit. Seemed quite interested in you, I must say."

Jack was now wearing his best mask of cheer and indifference... over a wave of absolute horror.

What if she had been told he had claimed to be related to her? What if she was one of those pureblood fanatic types? So many variables, and he didn't have a clue where to begin. Of course, it could always just end in 'wow, we have the same name, isn't that funny'... but he would not be willing to bet on that.

"Of course I'll come to your Hallowe'en party, Professor. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

x x x

Ianto Jones was most displeased.

He was being dragged to a party, by a boy who was dressed like a bloody idiot. Okay, so this wasn't entirely new for Jack, but it still managed to rub Ianto the wrong way.

The fact that all of the other party guests were also dressed like bloody idiots still failed to make him feel any better about it. As a Masquerade party, the general dress code in the wizarding world involved either 'dress robes' (regular dresses for the women), or outright period costume... and, as the name suggests, masks.

As both he and Jack already had dress robes from the Yule Ball the year before last (a few extension charms were required to make them fit again, but this was incredibly simple magic), they hadn't felt the need to find anything else. The masks, on the other hand... Jack had gone and made his own mask based on what he could discern- from books and in person- of how a Basilisk ought to look. Including the red plume, and a charm to make the eyes glow faintly.

Ianto had been somewhat more reserved about it... finding some semblance of amusement in the simple irony of copying the design of the mask worn by the lead character of the Muggle musical Phantom of the Opera.

He wasn't pleased with being there, but he would damned well make it his business to confuse the hell out of every pureblood present.

At least Jack didn't seem overly enamoured with the event, either. Sure, he acted up when someone spoke to him, played the part of cheerful and polite guest... but the second they turned their backs he was sulking again. The eyes were the giveaway, even through that mask. Ianto had conveniently blended in with the background, while Jack shot him resentful glares for abandoning him to the mercy of the other party guests, many of whom shared Slughorn's worldview that it wasn't what you knew so much as who you knew.

"He's a strange one, isn't he?" a familiar voice whispered from next to Ianto. Nobody had been there a moment ago, but the voice itself told him how she had arrived. Myrtle, being a ghost and therefore incorporeal, had a fantastic advantage in the art of sneaking up on people... namely floating through walls.

"What do you mean?" he asked, doing what he felt was a very good impersonation of someone who hadn't just been startled by her sudden appearance.

"I've heard the stories, you know. That you were his boyfriend."

"Still am." he glanced sideways at the ghost girl, who he was quite sure had not been invited to the party.

She looked taken aback by this news. "But you didn't object when he-" the way she trailed off wasn't so much shyness as confusion over how to word it.

"Kissed you? Why should I?"

"What, because I'm dead?" she hissed angrily.

"No, because he's Jack. He'll flirt with anything that moves."

He decided it would be in his best interests not to mention that the phrase Owen had so often used before was 'anything that breathes'... and that the Gryffindor in question had been forced to pay up a significant amount of money for an ongoing bet he held with Ianto, after witnessing Jack kissing Myrtle earlier that year.

Myrtle considered his words for a moment, thoughtfully. The fact she drifted off to the side her head was tilted to as she thought wasn't at all disconcerting, and Ianto would fervently deny any accusation to the contrary.

"So..." she said finally, "I don't suppose he'd be too upset if I saw other boys, then?"

"From what I've heard, you _see_ the other boys a lot." Ianto pointed out. Cedric Diggory had caught her spying on him in the bath the previous year, and warned the entire house about her.

She didn't even bother denying it, either, just grinned coquettishly. "Not quite what I meant, really."

"So who's the other boy?" Ianto asked casually, "I know you fancy Harry, but I think he's a bit scared of you."

"Really?" she pouted, "But he seemed so nice..."

"You are a bit aggressive, sometimes, you know."

Myrtle pouted sulkily, but didn't retort. She probably knew it was true, then.

"So who is it, then?"

"Like I'd tell you." she sniffed, and before he could respond to this she zoomed back through the wall in a huff.

The rest of the party proved to be interminably dull, and they didn't leave until the very end when Jack stormed out in a sulk at the fact the only person on the entire guest list that he had actually wanted to meet hadn't even shown up.

x x x

First year Hufflepuffs, it seemed, were taught early to avoid Slytherins and their friends. It had taken him weeks, but eventually, Ianto did corner the pair of first year girls that he had seen loitering in the seventh floor corridor, and ask what they had been doing up on the seventh floor... only to be answered by confusion that the school in fact _had_ a seventh floor in the first place.

"We only ever even saw you in the common room before." the blonde one declared, quite defensively.

If anything, this made Ianto start to get suspicious as well. He had only been humouring Jack until then.

He tried in vain to remember their names from the Sorting, but when that didn't work he asked, with much resentment to his own memory for forcing him to do so, "Who are you, again, anyway?"

"I'm Katy Smith." the blonde said, before indicating her brunette friend, "This is Marcie Everton."

This time he made sure to make a proper mental note of their names. "And you're _sure_ you've never been up on the seventh floor?"

"Positive." Katy insisted, absolutely adamant.

"Well it sure looked like you two." he pointed out, trying not to sound quite as accusing as he felt. They were only eleven, after all.

Both shook their heads. "Not us." Katy repeated. It was clear the two were friends, but at least Katy was rather more outspoken than she had seemed before.

Then it clicked, and Ianto could have kicked himself for not considering it sooner. It _looked_ like them, didn't mean a damned thing in the wizarding world, really, did it? He had heard all about not-Mad-Eye-Moody, and even been paranoid enough to insist his own father prove his identity the following summer.

"Was anyone acting strangely around either of you, before last week?" he asked. It must have seemed like a strange and random change of subject to the girls, both of whom gave him looks like he'd gone insane. Maybe he had. Insanity had been known to follow paranoia by an average of a few years, in the Torchwood profession.

At least one of them deigned to answer him, though he was surprised that it was Marcie, since Katy had done all the talking up to this point, "Couple of Slytherins shoving us around in the corridors." she said quietly, nervously, "Didn't even call us names like they did the other times I've seen them bullying people."

"Who were they?" Ianto asked gently. This could be it. Or it could be a wild goose chase. Either way, it was better than absolutely nothing.

"Dunno." Marcie shrugged, "Two big tough kids. All muscle and no brains."

"You just described their entire Quidditch team." Ianto pointed out dourly.

This did at least serve to make both girls giggle. Which made it easier for him to terminate the conversation and leave them be.

He would need to tell Jack about this theory. If he was right- and he was rarely wrong- then whatever Jack's housemates were up to, they would all be much better off knowing about it in great detail... and depending on which ones were responsible, most likely putting a stop to it.

x x x


	79. Understanding Quidditch

x x x

**Chapter 79: Understanding Quidditch, For Those Who Don't**

x x x

"I think he's dating Myrtle." Ianto said blankly. He was not upset or displeased by this. More... confused. Mostly about _how_ this was realistically possible.

"Bloody hell." Owen grumbled, "Hey, do you think it counts as necrophilia if she's still conscious?"

"She's incorporeal." Ianto snorted, trying not to laugh, "And ghosts are bloody cold. I doubt they could- oh, who am I kidding." he doubled over laughing where he sat.

Owen shook his head, also laughing, "I don't want the mental picture, mate!" he protested.

An excellent impersonation of Dolores Umbridge's "Hem hem!" from behind them made both boys jump in fright and sober up instantly, turning to face the source of the offending sound.

It was Professor McGonagall. Naturally, considering where they were and what they were _supposed_ to be doing.

"Perhaps you could leave this conversation aside, for the time being, boys?" she said in a voice so icy Moaning Myrtle suddenly seemed warm and fuzzy. "Unless you would prefer I summon your replacement?"

Colin Creevey was the second string for this job. It had taken a great deal of effort on Owen's part to wrangle this 'gig' as he liked to call it, and no damned way was he passing it up for a few rude jokes about Jack's sexuality. Especially since those would always be there, and could just damned well wait until later.

"Okay, sorry Professor. We'll be good!" Owen said, trying his best to sound apologetic... and fully aware that he was probably not succeeding at it.

"Very well, then." McGonagall said, sitting behind them in the commentators' box of the Quidditch stands.

"Let the game begin!" Owen said, grinning almost maliciously.

Oh yes, he had been waiting for this one. He had looked forward to it to the point of threatening poor Colin with a restraining order and multiple hexes if he so much as sneezed in their direction. 'Never trust an understudy'... it might have been Jack had said that, actually, though he couldn't quite remember.

Just then the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams walked out onto the pitch and Owen took unholy glee in activating the magical equivalent of a microphone. The fact they were both in range of it was not lost on Ianto... he had been enlisted, somewhat against his will, to provide technical expertise and to counteract Owen's... Owen-ness.

_**"And here come the players now. On Gryffindor's side we've got Bell, Cooper, Weasley, Weasley, Coote, Peakes, and Potter. And I know for a fact that at least two of these people are capable of doing amazing things with their mouths. One of them even during a match."**_

Gwen flipped him off. Ianto hit him.

Owen was undeterred. _**"And on the Slytherin side, we've got Ogden, Stroulger, Urquhart, Travers, Crabbe, Goyle and Harper. So... that's five and a half mountain trolls, and a name-thief."**_

Derrin Harper, being Seeker, was naturally immune to the 'bigger-is-better' rule that the house seemed to think applied to their sports stars. Ogden was just a bit smaller than the rest of the troupe of circus-acts Slytherin had recruited for their house team, so he was the one who had earned the description of 'half-troll' in Owen's mind, instead of 'purebred troll'.

Harper flipped him off... and Ianto hit him again.

**_"What, he stole my name!"_** Owen protested.

_**"He's older than you."**_ Ianto observed coldly.

_**"Depends on how you look at it, doesn't it?"**_ Owen grumbled, _**"Anyway, not a Malfoy in sight... are they even allowed to use those brooms if he's not on one of them?"**_

Another smack from Ianto.

_**"Alright, alright. Aaaaand, the game begins!"**_ Owen cheered, getting into the spirit of it more out of his own sadistic amusement than any sporting pride, _**"That red ball thing is taken right away the Gryffindor team's little ginger minx, Ginny Weasley."**_

_**"It's called a Quaffle, Owen."**_ Ianto put in.

_**"Red. Ball."**_ Owen repeated emphatically. _**"Ginny passes to Cooper, who I really didn't think could fly like that. She's been holding out on me! Back to Ginny- no, I'm not using her last name when there's two of them, live with it- Ginny to Bell- oh, and Ogden picks it out of the air."**_

_**"It's called an interception, Owen. The same word they use in American football."**_ Ianto pointed out darkly.

_**"Picked It Out Of The Air."**_ Owen repeated. Ianto rolled his eyes in disgust. _**"And Ogden HANDS**_**_ it to Urquhart- because we all know troll brains are too slow to catch anything- Urquhart's flying for the goals, and... saved! Nice move there by Weasley, really on form today."_**

_**"Read Quidditch Through The Ages."**_ Ianto sniped, _**"That move has a name, it's called Starfish and Stick."**_

_**"I don't want to know the person who named it, then."**_ Owen cheerfully retorted, _**"And Ginny's got the ball again."**_

_**"Quaffle."**_

_**"Ginny Weasley Has The **__**BALL****."**_ Owen insisted, **_"Weaves in between Crabbe and Goyle- oh, that's gotta hurt!- tell you, these troll hybrids really can't fly straight, and when they do they run headlong into each other! Not that it seems to have any effect, if their brains weren't so well padded, they'd be dead!"_**

_**"Harper!"**_ McGonagall chided.

Owen just grinned unrepentantly, his back firmly facing the teacher in question, _**"Anyway, Ginny passes to Bell, Bell to Cooper, Cooper's headed for the goal, and- hey, is that legal?"**_ The Slytherin Keeper had put himself, bodily, _in_ the goal hoop, to prevent the score from going through. Not blocked it from in front like you're meant to.

_**"No, it's called Flacking."**_ Ianto put in.

_**"Well that's just flacking ridiculous! Flack you, you flacking flacker!"**_ Owen jeered, pretending not to hear the despairing sigh from McGonagall behind him.

Sure enough Gwen was awarded a free shot at the goals and scored the first ten points for Gryffindor. The other two Gryffindor Chasers wouldn't have stood a chance... they were both too busy laughing at Owen's commentary. Gwen probably only managed to concentrate because she had grown so accustomed to ignoring his rudeness, these days.

_**"And on with the game. Stroulger's got the ball. He passes to Ogden. Coote takes a shot at him. Rubbish aim, but it's the thought that counts I suppose. Ogden shoots... Weasley saves. That was one lucky hit for the Gryffindor Keeper, dropping the ball-"**_

_**"Quaffle."**_

_**"****BALL****!"**_ Owen insisted, **_"-right into Cooper's hands. And I can tell you, Cooper really knows how to handle the ball."_**

Ianto hit him.

Owen was entirely unrepentant. It wasn't like his friends ever actually hit him _hard_. All in good fun, for the most part. **_"Cooper passes to Ginny... then stops to... talk to Peakes?"_**

Sure enough, while Ginny and Bell raced down the field, Gwen had stopped to say something to one of the Beaters.

Seconds later, a Bludger was hit with excellent aim, right at Owen. _**"Whoa, thanks Gwen, you know exactly what I like. Of course anyone who bothered to read the school Quidditch handbook would know, the stands all have protection charms on them in case of just such an ACCIDENTAL occurrence."**_

_**"You never read that. I told you about it."**_ Ianto pointed out.

**_"Or there's that."_** Owen conceded, **_"And Bell has the ball now, soaring down the pitch... hey, did I miss a goal? I did, we're twenty-nil, now, and it looks like we're headed for another- no, Travers has just flown out headlong into Bell. Is that another foul?"_**

**_"I believe so."_** Ianto agreed, _**"Blatching. Flying with the deliberate intention of colliding with another player."**_

_**"Who names these things?"**_ Owen protested.

_**"I don't know, but they seemed to like the letter 'B'."**_ Ianto admitted with a shrug, _**"Almost half the fouls in the handbook start with it."**_

_**"Want to offer a number to go with that, Mr Sesame Street?"**_

Ianto sneered at this, but didn't retort.

_**"And that was another foul, so another free kick- or whatever you do when it's not football."**_ Owen continued brightly, _**"And now we're thirty-nil to Gryffindor, and Urquhart has the ball. Straight down the field, human cannonball with really bad teeth... he's at the goals, and Weasley saves again! Well someone's on a roll today. Y'know, I think Travers just makes these foul plays because he knows that, unlike Weasels here, he can't make a proper save to save his life."**_

A loud round of boos and hisses rose up from the Slytherin side of the stands.

_**"Oh yeah? Prove me wrong."**_ Owen goaded. They didn't seem to have an answer to that, so Owen turned back to the game, _**"Bell has the ball. To Cooper... back to Bell... pass to Ginny, but Stroulger gets in the way. Not so much an interception as it bounced off him, really. Ogden was, at least, able to catch the thing before it hit the ground. Hey, what happens if it actually does hit the ground?"**_

_**"Nothing. It would still be in play."**_ Ianto answered with a shrug.

_**"Boring."**_ Owen grumbled, _**"They should play this over a pit of lava, or something."**_

_**"Don't give them ideas, Owen."**_ Ianto chided, almost amused.

Owen shrugged and continued to call the plays, _**"Ogden's going for the goals. He shoots, and it's saved yet again by Weasley. I bet a certain seventh year is really shitting himself about all those bet he made with me that Weasley'd fail."**_

_**"MR HARPER!"**_ McGonagall protested in horror.

_**"Sorry, professor."**_ He really really wasn't. Cormac McLaggen now owed him twenty galleons, on the power of Owen making the 'friendly' wager right after hearing Hermione Granger all but _shrieking _ at Harry Potter for spiking Weasley's drink with Felix Felicis.

In the meantime, however, a chorus of that bloody horrible '_Weasley Is Our King_' song from last year began at the Gryffindor end of the stands. The fact the Slytherins started it was entirely lost on them... either that or perceived as irony.

_**"OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! SHUT IT, THE BLOODY LOT OF YOU, OR I SWEAR, I WILL START SINGING THE MR BLOBBY SONG!"**_ Owen yelled.

The entirety of Gryffindor house at once became deathly silent. Even the game paused, as Gwen stalled in mid-air, Quaffle in hand, and spluttered in horror. The purebloods might not have got it, but they still understood that Owen Bloody Harper making a threat was not to be trifled with, and their Muggle-born friends were clearly terrified enough to prove just how serious it was.

_**"Yes, Weasley's wonderful, and I'm sure you all want to have his many ginger babies."**_ Owen continued, voice now at a reasonable volume for a megaphone, though anything but a reasonable intonation. Now it was Weasley's turn to splutter in horror at his words, too. _**"That song is crap! Somebody buy a flacking rhyming dictionary! Please!"**_

Silence.

Then suddenly the Seekers dived.

_**"Oh, alright!"**_ Owen cheered, _**"Finally, something interesting's happened. Potter and the name thief have spotted the sparkly gold thing-"**_

_**"The SNITCH!"**_ Ianto corrected, clearly getting more infuriated with Owen's deliberate and malevolent determination to ignore the correct terminology.

_**"It's neck and neck."**_ Owen continued gleefully, _**"They're nose-diving straight for some very solid ground... Potter pulls ahead, and... Gryffindor wins! Yes! Suck on that, Slytherins!"**_

_**"Don't give them ideas, Owen."**_ Ianto chided, trying not to laugh.

_**"Oh, give over."**_ Owen snickered, _**"You know he's had that idea every five seconds since like ever, right?"**_

Ianto rolled his eyes, _**"I hate you."**_

Owen was forbidden from ever commentating a Quidditch match again, for as long as he lived.

x x x

"Don't feel too bad, Derrin." Jack said, far too cheerfully for the rest of the Quidditch team to keep the murderous glowers off their faces. "He beats Draco every time, too."

"What have I told you about taking his side in my presence, Harkness?" Draco demanded coldly.

"That you'll kill me for it, then learn necromancy just to do it again." Jack dismissed, outright laughing now, "Promise you, greater men have tried."

"What, to murder you?" Draco snorted, sounding significantly more amused than surprised by this.

"I'm fairly certain I've got the words 'kill me' tattooed across my forehead in ink only visible to psychopaths." Jack retorted, "Avery, am I right?"

Everybody laughed at this.

Well, everybody except Avery himself. "Not in a literal context." he said darkly, "But just as good."

Jack took note of the boy's utter indifference to actually being accused of psychopathy, but then shrugged dismissively, "Well commiserations, I guess. I don't really care about Quidditch, though, to be honest. Who wants to play strip poker?"

"For the thousandth time, Harkness, _No!_" Rowle snarled.

"You were never invited anyway, Loken." Jack said, entirely too cheerfully. The crowd all skulked off in various directions, choosing- as those who value their sanity do in this sort of situation- to ignore Jack.

"You know one of these days, one of them will take you seriously, and you'll not wake up at all the next morning." Thadius Vance pointed out, sitting across from him in the now otherwise deserted common room.

"You underestimate me." Jack said idly, "I'm quite sure I can take anything that lot can throw at me." he looked up at his classmate with curiosity, "You've been following me around a lot, lately. There a valid reason for this, or do you just have a crush on me?"

Vance snorted derisively, "Valid reason." he said sharply.

Jack blinked, "No offence intended." he said, bemused.

"Right, because you never mean to offend anyone at all, do you?" Vance sniped back, before shaking his head, "I murdered four Death Eaters over the summer holidays. I get the feeling I'm not particularly welcome in the dorms, these days, and I was told you're a good person to know if I want protection."

"Four?" Jack asked, impressed if a bit sceptical.

"Okay, so I only really kind of helped to render them unconscious." Vance conceded, "But then accidental magic made their chests explode."

Jack was unable to avoid the mental image from the movie Alien... but at least he chose not to voice this fact to the pureblood who wouldn't get the reference. Instead he asked with dubious amusement, "You blow things up often, then?"

Vance seemed surprised by how calmly Jack was taking the news that he was speaking to a killer, but quickly replied in a more forced casual tone, "Only when I'm angry... but it's not unprecedented."

"Alright, if you're going to be my friend, you're going to have to learn Muggle references. Starting with Marvel comics."

"Strange conditions." Vance said, fighting back a smile now.

Jack shrugged, unrepentant.

"Why is it that I was told you were a valuable ally?" Vance asked carefully.

"Depends who told you." Jack said with an amused shrug.

While this was technically true, he said it more because he wanted to know who had given Vance this suggestion. It would be useful to know who was either sending him allies or trying to enlist him to protect children.

He really wasn't sure which one of these applied to Vance yet.

"Dumbledore, actually."

"Odd." Jack said, somewhat surprised, "You'd think he could take care of his own people."

Vance bristled at this, "What makes you think I'm one of his?"

"I do my research." Jack said, frowning slightly. What he had read included some pretty gruesome details of the Death Eaters' victim. Interestingly, though, it had excluded any details on the state of the Death Eaters themselves. Hadn't even said how many, or whether they had been taken in alive or dead. Guess he knew that detail, now. "Your mother was a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

Vance scowled, suddenly defensive. He wasn't pleased with this fact, then. "So what if she was?"

"He might rig the House Cup every year, but that doesn't mean the Headmaster buys into house prejudices. He wouldn't stop looking out for the family of one of his followers just because of where you were Sorted, or even because you didn't want his help. He probably thinks you're more likely to accept help from someone in your own house, though why he didn't just drag Snape into this is beyond me."

"Snape is a Death Eater." Vance said blankly, "Everyone knows _that_."

Jack snorted, "If you say so."

Vance rolled his eyes, "I don't like you. In any context. Just so we're clear."

Jack chuckled at this, "Fine by me. Not all my friends like me, either. They just trust me implicitly and follow my orders without question."

"Don't expect either of those from me any time soon, either."

"Then why are you here?" Jack asked blankly.

Vance hesitated, "What?"

"If you don't think you can trust me to do what Dumbledore claims I can do... why are you here?"

He had to think about that one, and finally came up with, "Benefit of the doubt. I don't trust you yet."

Jack nodded, "Fair enough. Just try not to be too upset if I ever save your life."

He offered his hand for Vance to shake, and with some reluctance the other boy accepted it.

x x x

That evening, Owen sat in the common room, ignoring everyone around him. He was reading '_Quidditch Through The Ages_'.

True enough, a significant number of the listed fouls were indeed 'B's.

_Blagging._  
><em>Foul: Grabbing onto the broom tail of another player.<em>

Owen would probably have named it something much ruder. He also would not have used the same word as so often used by con-artists talking their way out of shit, either.

_Blatching_  
><em>Foul: flying to intentionally collide with another player.<em>

What was tea-boy, a walking encyclopaedia? He had quoted this one word-for-word, earlier.

_Blurting_  
><em>Foul: locking broom handles with another player to pull him or her off course.<em>

He needed to find a way to bring this one up in front of Harkness and tea-boy... just because.

_Bumphing_  
><em>Foul: intentionally hitting a Bludger toward the crowd in order to halt the game momentarily and thereby denying an opposing Chaser a score.<em>

So Gwen needed to read the rulebook, and all.

_Cobbing_  
><em>Foul: excessive use of elbows.<em>

Okay, one reasonably named one, out of how many?

_Flacking_  
><em>Keeper foul: pushing any part of his or her body through a goal hoop to prevent a score.<em>

Owen now planned to make it his mission- alright, one of his missions- to turn this into a regularly employed swear-word within Hogwarts by the time he left.

_Haversacking_  
><em>Chaser foul: when the Quaffle goes through the hoop before it is released from the Chaser's hand (it must be thrown to score).<em>

Boring.

_Quafflepocking_  
><em>Chaser foul: Tampering with a Quaffle to make it fly differently.<em>

Baseball level boring.

_Snitchnip_  
><em>Foul: Any player other than the Seeker touching the Golden Snitch.<em>

Hmm... relatively worth knowing if you actually played the game. Owen could not care less.

_Stooging_  
><em>A tactic once allowed where two of the Chasers would ram the opposing Keeper aside so the third Chasers could score a goal. This was outlawed in 1884 and Stooging is now a foul.<em>

So... they named this after the Three Stooges, right? If they didn't, it was one hell of a coincidence.

Owen looked up from the book just in time to see the second-most offensive public display of affection in his life. Harkness and tea-boy naturally being the worst... but he had still never wanted to see Ronald Weasley shoving his tongue down anyone's throat... ever.

x x x


	80. Understanding Women

x x x

**Chapter 80: Understanding Women, For Those Who Don't**

x x x

Ginny Weasley watched, fighting back the urge to vomit, as her youngest brother got his brains snogged out by Lavender Brown. It was quite obvious which of the two was the aggressor, otherwise she'd have gone over there and told her brother to grow a brain. Couldn't really blame him if the prettiest girl in his year pounced on him unawares, though, could she?

Poor Hermione.

Ginny just looked over at where Hermione had been in time to see her fleeing the common room. Or perhaps storming out might have been a better phrase, but she decided that it didn't really matter either way. Hermione was gonna maim at least one of those two, eventually. Whether that word could be used in a physical or psychological sense didn't matter either... it was gonna happen.

She scowled at Ron, thinking carefully.

Harry hadn't reacted to any of _her_ exploits with other boys. She had been actively dating for over a year now, and he wasn't showing any sign of minding. Maybe it really didn't bother him? Maybe being all-but adopted by their mother had made him just not see her that way? Or maybe- she hoped- maybe he just hadn't noticed.

There was really only one way to find out. Date someone closer to him, so he couldn't possibly be able to ignore it.

She had already been trying this, of course, but Harry didn't have that many male friends. In fact, he only seemed to have five of them, and only two that were close.

Of course, Harry's closest friend just had to be her own brother. Then there was Neville, who never seemed to show any interest in that kind of thing. Seamus, ugh, she was likely to get her hair set on fire! Dean really didn't seem to be working out right now, he was too clingy and Harry hadn't even batted an eye at them so far.

Then there was Harry's other close friend, Jack. Now Jack was quite nice. Only fourth year, but that didn't bother her. He was only about three months younger than her anyway.

It was true he was already kind of in a relationship... but the usually accurate side of the rumour mill did suggest this to be an open one. Especially if Myrtle was to be believed. Not that Myrtle was necessarily the most reliable source of information, but the other girls she listened to usually were.

Mum would pitch a fit if she found out her little girl had dated a Slytherin!

Oh, that settled it. She was totally gonna go for Jack.

x x x

Harry, for his part, _had_ started to notice Ginny... and the fact that she was dating other boys. He didn't really understand why it bothered him so much, at first, but he was gradually coming to the conclusion that he probably did fancy her a bit. She was clever, pretty, and definitely no longer the small shy little girl he had first met on Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Of course, the last time anyone had mentioned Ginny dating, Ron had threatened to maim the boy involved. In gory detail.

Harry himself had seriously contemplated kicking Dean out of his reserve spot on the Quidditch team just for this offence, as well. If he hadn't been so paranoid that the Slytherins might actually manage to curse two of the other three Chasers before a match if he did, he probably would have acted on this instinct, and all.

He wasn't worried about Cooper... Jack protected his friends far more fiercely than even the Weasley family stood up for one another. It would only take two to need to bring Dean into play, though, and he didn't want to chance it.

Didn't mean he had to like the boy. They had never really been friends anyway, and Harry had no idea what Ginny saw in him.

x x x

Much like the Yule Ball, Slughorn's Christmas party was drawing the giggling girls out of the woodwork again. Harry was honestly getting scared that- as Hermione most disturbingly pointed out- one of them might try to slip him a love potion to get him to ask them. Romilda Vane was, apparently, the most likely suspect for this.

He didn't want to ask Ginny in case Ron pitched a fit, and he didn't want to ask anyone else because he didn't really feel like taking anyone else. It was just a stupid party, he really didn't see the big deal.

Still, you could never be too paranoid. He had started drinking from a flask, like Moody. He actively avoided these girls when he saw them, and they were easy to recognise because they burst into fits of giggles whenever he approached. He also had the added issue of needing to actively avoid the mistletoe that some _thoughtful_ person had decided to hang all over the place.

"Does nobody realise that stuff attracts Nargles?" he had declared loudly, when it looked like a group of these girls was going to corner him under a particularly well-placed one, "Honestly!"

He then legged it while they were too busy being confused by this statement.

"Alright, I need a date." Harry said despairingly, sitting down at the Slytherin table of all places.

It was Jack's fault. Jack was the only source of good advice on this subject (Hermione was too law-abiding and Ron wasn't even a good source of advice when he did deign to take a break from attempting to give Lavender an amateur tonsillectomy)... and Jack just had to go and be a bloody Slytherin.

"Have you considered your own house, first?" Blaise Zabini sniped coldly.

"They're all trying to poison me. I may be better off with you lot!" Harry protested, immediately regretting just how melodramatic that sounded.

"Then you probably don't want to date Ianto." Jack said unhelpfully.

Harry rolled his eyes, grumbling, "Right, that's downright disturbing."

"You could try asking Jack." Theodore Nott suggested, "He's up for anything... heard he even eyed up Mrs Norris."

"I just suggested that with a name like that she might be an illegal Animagus in hiding, and the secret lover of Argus Filch." Jack protested, "I did not express a personal interest." He paused for only a moment, then added far too brightly, "Now Sirius Black, on the other hand..."

"God, no!" Harry yelped, horrified, "Just... stop talking, please!" Jack was laughing, now. Either he thought the objection was silly, or he'd done it on purpose to get that reaction. It really was impossible to tell, with Jack.

"Hate to agree with Potter." Zabini sneered, "I have my principles, and all, but yes. Shut it, Harkness."

When Jack finally stopped laughing and wiped the grin off his face, he asked, "So why are you looking for a date, anyway?"

Harry sighed, "Because half the girls in the school are trying to trick me into taking them to Slughorn's party, and I just want them all to back off."

Jack shrugged, "You really could ask me, if you want." he suggested idly, "Not like you're talking about proposing marriage here."

Harry glowered at him.

"What?" Jack asked defensive yet somehow still amused at the same time.

"I actually thought you might be able to help me, you know." Harry grumbled.

"How? Want him to poison these other girls, first?" Nott asked, smirking... he was clearly enjoying bearing witness to this conversation entirely too much.

"Well..." Harry seriously thought about it for half a second, then realised what he was doing and quickly denied, "No! Of course not!"

"Lay off him, Nott." a fourth-year Harry didn't recognise, who had been hanging around with Jack a lot more this year, chided, "Have you any clue what the press would do to the boy-wonder if they thought he'd even considered dating another boy?" Jack scowled at this, but didn't interrupt as his classmate continued, "Oh, be accused of being the next Dark Lord and most people don't bat an eye... but date a boy? Skeeter would have a field day!"

Jack rolled his eyes in evident disdain, while the other Slytherins laughed. Harry sulked because it was probably true and he still didn't have a solution to his not-wanting-to-date-a-psycho-stalker problem.

"What about Luna?" Nott suggested, "She likes you, gods only know why. If she's interested, I'll let you borrow her."

"Borrow?" Harry asked sceptically.

"She _is_ my girlfriend." Nott said flatly, "But we have an understanding."

"That understanding being that she's crazy and in three months time you'll technically be a paedophile?" Zabini sniped.

"Why do people keep using that word?" Jack asked, staring at thin air in front of him, "It's a Muggle word, why...?" then he seemed to come to a realisation, and sighed a bit dramatically, "I blame Owen."

"We all do." the other fourth-year said dismissively, "For everything."

Harry shook his head, "Luna. Right, that's the best idea I've heard all day. Thank you, Nott."

And he quickly stood up and left the Slytherins to their own devices. As a group they were far scarier than as individuals... because as individuals they tended to talk less.

x x x

News spreads faster inside Hogwarts than anywhere else in the wizarding world... and the wizarding world tended to have one up on most Muggle forms of communication. Not all, according to Professor Burbage, but Ginny was still pretty sure that Peeves hollering at the top of his lungs about "_Potty loves Loony!_" was probably still plenty faster than this Internet she had heard stories about.

Naturally, the details took a bit longer to filter through, but only by an hour or two.

So Harry was taking Luna to the Christmas party. It took Luna herself to tell Ginny this, in her usual misty way, of course. Even though she claimed to be dating a Slytherin... said Slytherin wasn't in the Slug Club, and she sounded more excited about the party than the date. Luna just didn't think like normal people, and always spoke her mind completely uncensored. If she said she thought of Harry as just a friend, Ginny believed it.

This appeased her immediate sense of jealousy, though it did still cement her determination to make Harry jealous instead.

Ron's opinion, on the other hand, was much less refined, and far more vocal. "You could've taken anyone!" he protested loudly, just as Ginny was arriving at dinner, "Anyone! And you chose Loony Lovegood?"

Ginny quite purposefully 'accidentally' bumped into him, her elbow hitting his shoulder quite hard as she passed, "Don't call her that, Ron!" she snapped. She had been working for months on salvaging Luna's reputation, and her own brother was still undermining her. She stopped behind Harry, and added honestly, "I'm really glad you're taking her Harry, she's so excited."

Luna needed friends, and Ginny was _not_ jealous.

Okay, maybe a little, but only because if _she_ went to the party with Harry it would be a real date... not because she thought Luna was his date.

She leaned past Hermione and Seamus, and swiped some toast from the table, before quickly trotting over to the Slytherins. Sure, Jack had set the precedent years ago, by sitting at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables... but yesterday everybody's boy hero, Harry Potter, had officially endorsed the practice of not caring whose house table you sat at.

Whether Harry saw it that way or not was irrelevant... he _had_ started a fad.

Ginny passed several Gryffindors and Ravenclaws chatting with their friends at the Hufflepuff table, and a few Slytherins and Hufflepuffs at the Ravenclaw table, before finding her way to where Jack sat with his classmates. She hesitated for a moment, as he happened to be surrounded on all sides by friends- who whatever anyone says about Slytherins, acted just as civilised as the rest of the school- then she cleared her throat lightly, "Mind if I join you?"

Much like the rest of the school (since yesterday) even the Slytherins were not immune to the inter-house seating arrangements. Owen Harper was across the table from Jack, and Ianto Jones on one side of him. She also recognised Thadius Vance, Malcolm Radford, Zoe Alderton, and her own Slytherin classmates Derrin Harper and Marion Levay, as well as several first years, all trying to get in on this social clique.

Jack was _popular_... even if he didn't act like the older 'popular' kids in Gryffindor.

"Sure. Shove over, Vance." Jack said brightly. Thadius, who had been sitting right next to Jack, sulkily obeyed.

"So I was wondering..." Ginny said carefully, as she sat down, "If you're going to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

"Yes." Jack answered, sounding deeply resentful about this, "I think he knows I've been dodging him, and I wouldn't be surprised if my grade depended on it."

Some of the other Slytherins snickered at this, but Ginny persevered in her questioning, "Do you have a date?" She couldn't help noticing the way Ianto Jones froze at this question. Within a second, he was avidly pretending not to even be listening, but it was quite clear he had a vested interest in the answer.

"Oh, not again!" Jack complained, "It was bad enough at the Yule Ball, don't tell me establishing pre-determined couples before the event is mandatory for this as well?"

Ianto snorted with barely suppressed laughter, while the other students just rolled their eyes as if this was perfectly normal behaviour for Jack Harkness, and they were used to it by now.

"Well..." Ginny said, frowning, "They didn't say it was mandatory. I was just wondering, is all."

"And why are you asking me, rather than Hermione or Harry?" Jack asked, in a tone that made her think he already knew what she was trying to get at. She couldn't help the blush when Harry's name was mentioned, and he grinned when he saw it, like this was all just one big joke to him.

"Because I already know who they're going with." she answered in as close to a neutral tone as she could manage. She was sure he noticed her embarrassment, though.

Jack glanced quickly at Ianto, then stood and offered Ginny his hand, "I want to talk to you in private." he told her.

She was startled by this request. It probably meant he knew _exactly_ what she had been not-asking him, and he was being tactful and/or kind to her. She nodded, standing up and following him out of the Great Hall.

The second they were alone, Jack turned around and said quite bluntly, "I'm assuming you're not one of the girls who's been trying to force-feed Harry love potions, then?"

She bristled in indignant horror at this, "Of course not!"

"And you fancy the hell out of him, but for some strange reason you haven't asked him out, yet." he continued.

"Well... yes." she said, still quite shocked, "It's not proper for a girl to ask a boy out."

"Whoever told you that is still living in the last century... and you seemed to be trying your best a minute ago." Jack observed, smirking faintly, "So I'd like to repeat my earlier question. Why me and not him?"

"Well, he's going with Luna, isn't he?" Ginny said immediately, before blushing as she realised the real reason just couldn't go unsaid. "Besides, he doesn't really see me that way." she muttered sadly, looking at the floor.

"Okay. Assuming that's true for a minute. Why me?"

She continued to stare at the ground. She couldn't very well tell him why, now could she?

Their supposedly private conversation was interrupted at that point by Ron being dragged along by the hand, by Lavender. The two went right past them, both of them completely unaware or just plain not caring that there was anybody else there. Lavender was giggling inanely, as well, and it echoed for a moment as they rounded the corner out of sight.

Ginny stared after them with a combination of revulsion and mild despair. When would her brother get a clue, dump the ditz, and realise Hermione was just perfect for him?

"Oh... that's why." Jack said, knowingly.

Ginny turned to stare at him. "What?"

"In spite of racist stereotypes, Dean Thomas just isn't enough to make Harry jealous." Jack concluded with a bit of a sigh.

Racist stereotypes? She really didn't get that one, or how it could theoretically make Harry more jealous that her last boyfriend was black.

"I'm not going to go with you to the party just to make one of my friends jealous." Jack said, quite adamant, "I've been on the wrong end of plots like this before, and all it will achieve is to make him mad at both of us. Even if you get what you want, he'll never speak to me again."

Ginny shifted uncomfortably, scowling at the floor. She hadn't thought of that, and the last thing she wanted was to break up a perfectly good friendship just to get her way. "Sorry." she mumbled, "I didn't mean-"

"You're young." Jack said, suddenly trying to sound reassuring, "We all make mistakes, the important thing is not to try to repeat them. Jealousy never helped anyone."

x x x

"Oh my god, you were right." Ginny said, appearing as if out of nowhere, at Jack's side, "Poor Hermione!"

Because of exactly the same plan Ginny had intended to execute to get Harry's attention, Hermione had gone and taken Cormac Mc-bloody-Laggen to the party. The lecherous git of a seventh year was pawing all over her, and when she eventually did get away he proceeded to ask everyone he saw if they had seen her.

"Want me to put him off?" Jack offered, in a far too suggestive tone.

Ginny really wasn't sure what he meant, and was wary of asking... but after only a few seconds her curiosity got the better of her. "How?"

"He means he'll go over there and flirt with him." Ianto said idly, "McLaggen is straight, and to be honest, Jack is probably capable of turning anyone he damn well pleases if he sets his mind to it, so it would scare the hell out of the poor kid."

Jack just shrugged and feigned an expression of innocence that was fooling nobody. In fact, that look on a Slytherin face usually meant some serious impending doom. Ginny tried to laugh this off, though the air of smugness implied that at the very least Jack completely believed it.

"Oh, come on. You're younger than me!" she laughed, "I mean, yeah you're cute and all, but... seriously?"

"You know how Veela work?" Ianto asked, still amused.

Ginny paled at this thought. Yes, she knew. She had overheard her mother try to explain it to Ron after the Quidditch World Cup. They had some kind of intoxicating potion in their blood, which they could release at will and make men suicidally infatuated with them for a limited amount of time.

"I'll take that as a yes, and not bother explaining the rest, then." Ianto said idly.

"I wouldn't really do it." Jack added, in a way that was meant to dismiss the entire conversation.

All it really served to do was to made Ginny that much more curious as to how a _human male _ was meant to be able to do the same thing Veela did. Sure, Phlegm Delacour was mostly human and could still do it, but Veela were by nature female. No exceptions. Not even that vicious rumour about the Malfoys that Ginny honestly believed one of her own relatives had started.

"Much as I feel for Hermione." Jack continued, "She brought this on herself, and I have far better people to play with than McLaggen."

Ginny rolled her eyes and tried very hard not to laugh. Rumour- which Jack consistently refused to deny- had it that he was dating _Moaning Myrtle_... and here he was turning his nose up at McLaggen. Said a lot of things about the older boy that Ginny quite wholeheartedly agreed with, and not one of them good.

"Hey, Harry!" Jack called out, causing Ginny to jump. He then crossed the room to where Harry had just appeared with Luna literally on his arm, leaving Ginny alone with Ianto.

Ginny scowled at Harry and Luna. It really _looked_ like a date, the way she held on to him like that.

Of course, Ginny was quite sure their conversation and laughter was more likely to do with Nargles or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack than anything else. It just _looked _ convincing, and made her feel- irrationally, she kept telling herself- jealous about it all.

Then, before she knew what was going on, Jack, Harry and Luna were coming over here.

Jack carefully pulled Luna away from Harry and over to Ianto... where the three of them started talking about 'Weevils' and Doxies. She dreaded to think, but thankfully before she could contemplate further, Harry was speaking to her... and blushing quite fiercely, as well, "Er- hi, Ginny."

She blinked, a bit surprised by his sudden shyness, "Hey Harry." she said easily, having long ago grown out of her own insecurities and hero-worship of him.

"So, uh..."

Oh dear, this was downright embarrassing. She was starting to feel it in spite of her best efforts, too. Jack _had_ said it was old-fashioned to think she couldn't just ask him herself... it was obvious Harry was trying to say something utterly humiliating and terrifying, and publicly asking for a date was probably the most humiliating thing she could think of.

So before he could stammer on any further she blurted out, "I dumped Dean." He stared at her in surprise for this, and she quickly continued, "I'd rather go out with you."

The dopey grin answered her question well enough, even before he nodded, relieved, "I was just trying to ask-"

"Yeah, I kind of guessed." she said sympathetically, "You looked more scared than when you faced that dragon in the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry blushed furiously at this, but grinned all the same.

"Well it's about time, now, isn't it?" Luna chirruped brightly, "You two really ought to have gotten together last Christmas, you know."

x x x

Harry had decided that having a real date at the party was a great thing. Luna hadn't minded, of course. He had given her a free pass to attend, and she seemed to be getting on great with the token vampire that Slughorn had invited.

Discussing the Rotfang Conspiracy, no doubt.

Meanwhile, Ginny dragging him off into a corner and snogging him was infinitely better than having to pretend to socialise with Slughorn and the other guests. Unfortunately, even Ginny hadn't been enough to distract him from the argument they overheard between Malfoy and Snape. Almost... but the raised voices and even interrupted music kind of had a way of seizing the full attention of everyone in the room.

"No, I don't want your help!" Malfoy shouted, "And I'm not wasting any more of my time on this worthless excuse for a party." he snarled at Snape, before turning and storming out.

Snape rolled his eyes and chased after Malfoy.

Harry turned to Ginny, all ready to apologise and make an excuse to go and follow them... but she grinned at him, eyes alight, and eagerly asked him, "Want to follow them?" She hadn't just understood, she hadn't even waited for him to ask. She'd thought exactly the same thing and encouraged him.

There just weren't words for how good that made him feel.

"Yes." Harry said with a surprised but happy grin, "Yes I do."

"Alright, then." Ginny giggled, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the room.

He was quite sure anyone watching them got entirely the wrong impression, and he honestly considered that a better thing than if they had thought he was going to be stalking Slytherins.

Taking out the invisibility cloak and throwing it around both of them as soon as they were outside the party, Harry led Ginny quickly down the corridor, checking each door as they passed. Eventually, he heard the unmistakable intonations of Professor Snape's 'I'm-not-going-to-kill-you-that-would-be-too-kind' voice. The one he used when a Gryffindor failed to do something perfectly in his class.

Ginny pulled out what looked distinctly like an extendible ear, and set it by the door, tapped it with her wand and whispered a disillusionment spell, then led Harry off into the next room, before they began to listen at the end of the 'ear'.

"-know that someone suspects-"

"I haven't done anything obvious!" Malfoy defended adamantly, "Why would anyone think I was doing anything- don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work. I can stop you."

A brief pause, before Snape said, sounding almost amused if he didn't already seem so angry, "Ah... Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

Malfoy's answer was to change the subject, "We don't use that word in the dungeons anymore, Professor. Jack maims people for it."

Harry snorted, finding this ridiculously funny, even if he didn't know why Jack hated that particular word. He had used it before, Harry was sure.

"You are avoiding the question, Draco." Snape hissed.

"Yeah. I'm gonna keep doing that." Malfoy retorted snidely, "I'm not trying to hide anything from _him_. I just don't need _you_ butting in."

"So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco-"

"So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!" Malfoy taunted.

"You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things."

"You'd better stop telling me to come to your office then. People might get the wrong idea."

Snape had been pausing at every sentence, thinking carefully before each response, but to this he answered immediately, "You've been spending far too much time with that Harkness boy."

Ginny's hands flew up over her mouth, as she tried very hard not to laugh out loud. Harry knew Jack well enough to almost- _almost_- sympathise with Snape. Almost.

"He's been more help than you would be." Malfoy sniped. Now Harry did _not_ like the sound of that.

"Listen to me." Snape insisted, becoming more urgent now, "I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco-"

"What kind of bloody stupid..." Draco muttered, before snorting derisively, "Why would you do that? I don't need your protection. It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it, I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!"

"Perhaps if you told me what you were planning, I could help-"

"No." Draco snapped angrily, but then with a distinctly amused tone he added, "No means no, Professor."

"If you will behave like that." Snape growled, "Then go. Just know that if you change your mind, I can still help."

"Bet you'd love to tell _him_ you did most of the work, and all." Draco sniped, before storming dramatically out of the room, stepping on the invisible extendable ear, which consequently emitted a near-deafening blasting sound in both Harry and Ginny's ears.

x x x

"So, Aunt Bella's been ordered to attack a place that doesn't exist, to find some powerful artefact you claim is broken. Should I put her out of her misery, or get a good seat to watch?" Jack had been sitting in the common room minding his own business when Draco strode in and made this announcement, the day before the Christmas holidays were due to start. He had managed to both draw Jack's full attention and still not speak loudly enough for the rest of the students to hear.

Jack looked up from the book he had been reading, smirking faintly at the casual way Draco had worded this admission of involvement in said illegal activity. "It would be easier for everyone involved if you just explained the misnomer." he pointed out.

"That's what I thought." Draco shrugged sitting next to Jack, "Problem is, I need proof."

"I can get you that, if you give me a week or two." Jack offered.

"Probably not soon enough. They're planning to attack on Christmas Eve."

Jack's eyes went cold at that. "Well, then we might have a problem."

"It's only Muggles, though, isn't it? You said."

"Yes, but they're _my_ Muggles." Jack retorted, "They're not allowed to die for another four years."

Draco raised a sceptical eyebrow, "You have a timetable?" Jack just shrugged, and Draco shook his head, "I probably don't want to know, do I?"

"Probably not."

Draco rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the incredulity of it all. He just didn't understand this boy sometimes. Of course, he knew his friend- only friend, really- was always up to something extremely unorthodox, and he had come to expect the unexpected whenever Jack was involved. Still, Draco knew he was openly pro-Muggle... but now he had just admitted to planning the deaths of a group of them. To a schedule, no less!

"Don't suppose you can persuade them to postpone it?" Jack asked idly, looking down at his book. Pretending to read while he tried to think of a way out of this, no doubt. He pretended to read a lot.

"I'm not in a position to do that." Which was perfectly true. His family were all but utterly disgraced in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Bellatrix was exempt by right of marriage to a far more productive slave of the Dark Lord. Draco and his parents however, in spite of their public image, wealth and politcal power, were far from favoured at the moment.

"Christmas party in Cardiff, then. I'll invite some guests of my own." Jack said, smirking darkly, "I pity your aunt."

Draco sneered back at this, not willing to let Jack have the last word, "I pity your Muggles."

x x x


	81. Bloody Torchwood

x x x

**Chapter 81: Bloody Torchwood**

x x x

"Orchestrate a lockdown on Christmas Eve, would you?" It really was that simple, and all his past-self had to do to follow this instruction was press one measly button. One button. It was big, brightly labelled, and just begged to be pressed, in much the way that the words 'do not press this button' tended to do.

But he couldn't manage that, could he? Oh no, that would have been far too easy.

Because he was bloody _dead_.

According to the comm chatter he was spying on from old Torchwood, it sounded like a Hoix attack. They did seem to be blissfully unaware that he was in fact dead, of course... just unconscious. As if a Hoix would be that gentle. Not that old Torchwood knew the names for these creatures either way, nor that Hoix were actually _technically_ sentient. On a par with Crabbe and Goyle, but still sentient. No, to them it was just another beast to be put down.

Much like the Death Eaters thought of them, no doubt. And it had begun.

Apparently whatever tip off the Death Eaters got about this thing told them exactly where the Hub was. Carol's address book _had_ been missing from the scene of the crime, so Jack chose to hope that was where they got their information, and not some divine Seer playing for the wrong team.

Thankfully they didn't seem to know anything else... particularly how to get in. They were just being generally destructive, and terrorising random civilians passing by.

Unfortunately, the point of Jack's desire for a lockdown was not to keep the Death Eaters out... it was to keep old Torchwood in.

Because naturally, when you work for a top secret government organisation dealing with the unknown and alien threats, if you see a bunch of psychopaths waving supernatural weapons around you're just going to assume it's part of your job description to stop them. Even Jack himself would have made that mistake, if he hadn't known about magic.

Their timing couldn't have been worse.

Just seconds after the Order of the Phoenix showed up on the scene and started into an all-out curse-fight, Jack's former co-workers ran out to interfere as well. Sure, in this time they neither had a tourist office (no tourism) or a hidden lift (no perception filter yet), so the Hub was instead accessed through a different hidden lift, in the walls of an 'abandoned' building owned by the Institute.

Didn't make it any more difficult for them to rush out headlong into trouble that wasn't their business.

The battle had already gotten into full swing. The Muggles who had been attacked were still in good enough shape to run away, though it was sadly (and disturbingly) inevitable that they wouldn't get far before the Ministry caught up to them and Obliviated them. On one side of the fight there were Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and on the other Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Sirius Black, and two others- a man and a woman- who Jack didn't recognise.

You'd think the odds were stacked in the Order's favour... unless you'd seen Bellatrix in a duel. This was probably about an even match, depending on the skills of the two unknown Order members.

The real problem however was the old Torchwood attitude when it came to the unknown. If it had an alien weapon it wasn't human, simple right? No need to worry which ones were attacking and which ones were defending the innocent bystanders. Guns blazing was the default setting that Jack had worked so hard in the future to turn into just 'guns waving'. Shoot first, then don't bother with questions just go straight to the autopsy.

And so this was what they did.

It seemed that when you grew up in a prejudiced society and thought the only weapon a Muggle understood was a pitchfork, you just didn't expect this sort of behaviour. Even the Order were taken by surprise, when Alex Hopkins fired into the group of combatants.

Firing off a whole damn clip, and only managing to hit with one shot, really did nothing for Jack's already very low opinion of this man. The fact he completely missed _all_ the Death Eaters just sealed the deal.

Jack didn't stop to think about who had just been shot- if he did it would distract him- instead he joined in the battle, starting with a disarming spell on Alex, and then the same on each of the other three gun-wielding maniacs he used to work with. Bellatrix keeping her wand was honestly _less_ destructive than this lot pretending to know what they'd just been involved in.

Of course he did try her next... not that that worked.

"Do you mind?" Jack demanded angrily of his former co-workers, "You're crashing my party!"

"Your party?" Moody demanded coldly.

"Who do you think invited you, Alastor?" Jack sniped over his shoulder, "Couldn't let those three have all the fun, could I?"

"Incorrigible brat." Moody grumbled, before flinging a hex at Rabastan. The Death Eater was suitably distracted to be hit square in the chest, and knocked out by whatever Moody had thrown at him.

"I would ask what the hell you lot think you're doing." Jack growled at the old Torchwood people, while the curse fight raged behind him, "But honestly, I sometimes wonder if you even think at all."

"Who are you?" Clarissa Wash asked, frowning as if she thought he looked familiar.

"That's not the point. The point it there are only three monsters here right now, and that's entirely based on perception of humanity." he glanced at Alex, "Okay, four monsters."

Alex glowered back at him, clenching and unclenching his fist as if either wishing he still had his gun or trying to decide if it was a good idea to strike a child.

"You just shot an innocent man. Pleased with yourself?" Jack asked. A gleeful shriek from behind him and he turned just in time to throw up a shielding spell and deflect a curse from Bellatrix. "Love you too, honey!" he shouted at her, "And thank your boss for instigating the revolving door prison system, too... I'm gonna need it for flaying you alive, at my age!"

He threw a cutting curse at her, which she blocked easily.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Excuse me, I think I have a date." he laughed at the now defenceless and relatively harmless old Torchwood team.

"You really do remind me of someone." Clarissa grumbled quite clearly.

"Wonder why!" Jack shouted, getting distracted from them now, as Bellatrix took up his full attention once more.

She wasn't just duelling him this time. She was also holding off the two Order members he didn't recognise, while Moody and Shacklebolt fought her husband. She disarmed and maimed the wizard quite quickly, taking a few minutes longer to stun the witch... and just as she was about to turn her full attention to Jack once more, she looked up at the abandoned building.

Jack looked as well, and saw his own past-self raising a gun and levelling it at Bellatrix's chest.

He fired, and in an instant Bellatrix Disapparated. Clearly she had learned from their previous underestimation of the weapon, and knew better than to take the chance.

Her husband looked at where she had been a second ago, threw one last burning jinx at Shacklebolt, and also Disapparated.

"About damned time, freak!" Alex yelled, "Get them!"

"Oh why don't I just shoot you now and save us all the trouble?" Jack's past-self growled at him.

Jack didn't stick around to hear the rest of _that_ argument. His past-self had just earned at least a week of hell for those words, however satisfying they might have been. No, instead he ran over to the Order members. At least two of them had taken serious damage in that fight. The witch seemed unharmed, but Bellatrix's curse had done terrible things to the unknown wizard's face.

And Sirius Black...

There was a bullet wound in his chest, but he was still breathing.

"Hey, Muttley..." he said gently, kneeling next to him. Sirius coughed weakly, trying to grin and doing a pretty poor job of it.

"What did that Muggle do to him?" Shacklebolt asked.

"It's called a gun." Moody answered curtly, drawing Jack's rather surprised attention. He hadn't expected the old wizard to recognise it. "Bloody dangerous piece of machinery, didn't know civilians were allowed to have them?"

"Those aren't civilians." Jack answered coldly, "You can fix this, right?" he asked, before looking down at his wounded friend again.

"Not too sure. Not like a cutting curse, least those are clean." Moody grumbled.

"We'd better get him to St Mungo's." Shacklebolt said, crouching down next to Jack and taking a firm grasp of Sirius' arm.

"Careful, now, Kingsley. Don't want to move him more than necessary." Moody pointed out. So it seemed obvious he had experience with this.

"I'm going with you." Jack insisted.

"Not on my energy you don't." Shacklebolt dismissed him, before Apparating away with Sirius.

Moody nodded curtly to Jack, "Just give me a moment."

Jack sat back on the cold ground, staring at the pool of blood on the pavement in front of him. There had been something so much less real about fighting with magic. Everyone could heal up given the chance, and for the most part the damage was neither messy nor even scarring. It had almost been like putting Jack on an even footing with everyone else for a change.

Then someone just had to go and bring a gun to a curse fight.

While Moody revived the unconscious witch, bound the defeated Death Eater, and checked on the wounded wizard, Jack glowered across the street at Alex and the rest of the old Torchwood crew. His past-self had already argued his way out of the worst punishments, no doubt. He would have to get Ianto to explain to his past-self the best way to spike everyone with Retcon, just to make this whole thing go away.

"Alright there, Mr Harkness?" the still unidentified witch asked, offering him a hand to stand up. He took it, and as soon as he was on his feet they were whisked away to St Mungo's. Jack was still taking in the new scenery while she continued to speak, "My name's Hestia Jones. Heard a bit about you, Mad-Eye said you fought Lestrange before, is that true?"

Jack nodded slowly, now taking a serious look at the woman. She bore no family resemblance to anyone else he'd met by that surname, so either she married into the old pureblood family, or it was a coincidence in the way that he had a classmate named Smith who wasn't in any way related to the old lines either.

"So... reasonable restriction of underage sorcery?" Jack asked.

Hestia waved her hand dismissively, snorting as she did so, "Death Eater attacks are an exception, and no mistake. With Scrimgour in charge no one will bother you for defending yourself."

"But-"

Hestia rounded on him quite suddenly, "You. Defended. Yourself." she insisted, and he couldn't keep the smirk off his face at this. "And did quite a fine job of it, too, if you ask me. What year are you now, fifth?"

"Fourth." Jack corrected automatically. It was true that he was almost fifteen, but he was quite sure that didn't matter so much to the supposed level of his training and experience.

"Very impressive." Hestia said with a nod of approval.

But Jack was not to be sidetracked so easily from the reason he was here, "Where's Sirius?"

x x x

Jack wasn't the only member of the teenage Torchwood team to witness the fight, of course. The rest of them had watched from a (relatively) safe vantage point. Gwen had tried to run down there the moment Sirius had been shot, but Jack had already been reckless enough to get himself involved and the other three held her back both physically and with the demand to know what she thought she could do about it that Jack and the Order couldn't.

They watched as the old Torchwood staff 'escorted' a very disgruntled past-Jack back into the building their secret entrance was hidden in, before any one of them finally spoke, "Well that's that, then, right?" Owen asked.

"Assuming Jack can give Draco the proof that this was all a waste of the Death Eaters' time, of course." Tosh pointed out, frowning, "I hope Jack- the other Jack- is alright."

"You mean the one that just got dragged off by his homicidal co-workers?" Owen asked, "They don't know he can't- you know that thing only tea-boy is bloody allowed to say."

"True." Tosh pondered, "And they do still think he's a 'valuable asset'." she sneered in disgust at the words as she said them.

"I'm more worried about Sirius." Gwen put in.

"We can check up on him, no problem." Owen said, tapping his ear to remind them they had commlinks. Jack had a commlink. Jack would tell them the moment he knew anything.

"Doesn't stop me worrying, does it?" Gwen snapped back at him defensively. She was clearly really upset by the whole thing. They continued bickering as they walked away, Tosh tailing behind them uncomfortably.

None of the three noticed Ianto stay behind.

He had seen something else. It wasn't unusual for spectacles like this to draw an audience, but this one had generally failed. The blind panic of the innocent bystanders who had been dragged into it was enough to make everyone not involved flee the scene. Except for one man.

He was old, probably older than Dumbledore looked... then again, Dumbledore was rumoured to be at least fifty years older than he looked, so that was an entirely subjective assessment. This man stood tall, with short white hair and a long dark coat. Muggle clothes, Ianto noticed. If he hadn't been the only one not to run away, he might well have been able to blend into the crowd well enough.

Ianto approached the man warily, "Entertaining show?" he asked in a somewhat derisive and sarcastic tone, but still in a way that invited conversation. His tone wasn't insulting the man, but rather the events they had just witnessed.

"I've seen stranger." the man said in a softer voice. Almost as if he was more accustomed to whispers and quiet than normal speaking volume. He sounded _almost_ American, but with a bit of Italian, as well... a watered-down version of the accent everyone in Mafia movies tended to use.

"Everyone else ran away." Ianto observed.

The man turned to him with curious if morbid amusement, "You seem to be leading this conversation somewhere, and I think I would prefer to know exactly where before it continues."

"You weren't surprised by the... unusual nature of the fight." Ianto said careful not to mention either magic of aliens just yet, as he wasn't sure which one must apply and didn't want to give the other away if he could help it. "And you seemed to pay far more attention after the man in the military coat showed up." He wasn't going to name Jack first, either. It was true, however, that this spectator had most definitely seemed to perk up when Jack's past-self made his dramatic appearance on the scene.

"You know him?"

"You could say that." Ianto said a bit defensively.

"He hasn't aged a day." the man said distantly, "Never does."

"Since when?" Ianto asked, watching him carefully, evaluating his responses.

He gave Ianto a very amused smirk, and the odd glint in his eyes was telling that he doubted his next words would be believed, "Nineteen twenty-seven."

Ianto did a mental calculation, and promptly resolved himself _not_ to mention the fact that that date was precisely sixty-nine years ago. It did serve to confirm his estimate that this man was at least eighty years old, though.

He was also left with no doubt, from the distant and wistful tone the man employed to speak of him, that this was yet another of Jack's (many) exes. Hopefully not another evil ex, John Hart stalking them was bad enough to be getting on with thankyouverymuch.

"So, is there a reason you're stalking your un-aging ex-lover?" Ianto asked blandly. This surprised the old man to no end. Most likely because Ianto pulled off the just-an-innocent-kid act entirely too well since he had been de-aged.

Eventually, however, the man stopped staring at him in shock, regained his composure and answered the question with just as much brutal honesty, "I can't remember why he left me."

Ianto blinked. Twice.

Here was an interesting dilemma. He could tell the man the truth... it was obvious Jack's death was somehow involved, his tone left no doubt as to the state of his memory in other areas, and Ianto as the Secret Keeper of Jack's immortality was perfectly capable of explaining the situation. It would probably be the kinder thing to do... but would Jack approve? Probably not.

He could do the cruel thing and accuse the man of going senile anyway, as a cover story. He doubted Jack would be too thrilled with that either. Might even accuse him of being jealous or possessive, or something of the sort.

He could offer bland platitudes and hope the stalker went away. Not likely. He understood the mentality, and knew better than to expect him to be dissuaded so easily.

So instead he decided on the diplomatic solution most people generally failed to consider. "I could ask him."

"So you do know him, then?" That was more of a question than a conclusion. The man wanted to know _how_ he knew Jack.

"I wouldn't be talking to you about it, if I didn't." he evaded carefully.

"I know it was my fault. I just can't remember what I did." the man conceded, "I doubt he would want to see me again."

"Never said he would."

x x x

It was late on Christmas Eve, at the Burrow.

Everyone was sitting around the cosy fireplace, listening to Celestina Warbeck on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Harry had just finished interrogating Arthur Weasley about his continued faith that Dumbledore was right to trust Snape, and turned to Remus Lupin, opening his mouth to change the subject to something hopefully more innocent, when he heard a beeping sound in his ear. He hadn't thought to take off the commlink Jack had given him, even now when he felt perfectly safe.

It seemed neither had the twins, for both perked up attentively, all of a sudden, as well.

Then they were both making excuses to be elsewhere, and Harry followed suit quite quickly. He just made it into the other room in time to see one of them tap the thing in their ear and say, "You wanted to hear our dulcet tones, oh glorious ones?"

Harry snorted with laughter, activating his own comm and hearing Gwen Cooper's usually chirpy voice saying quite solemnly, "You three need to come to St Mungo's right away."

"Which three?" the other twin asked.

"You two lunatics, and Harry." Harper elaborated coldly.

The twins both looked up at Harry, upon hearing this request. Something was very wrong.

The fourth-years were all business and no good humour. They usually tended to talk about the most abhorrent and repulsive things as if life was all just a joke... but now they were taking things seriously. Something _terrible_ must have happened.

"We'll be there right away." one of the twins said earnestly, before both turned off the comms and gestured as one for Harry to come with them.

x x x


	82. Keep Your Friends Close

x x x

**Chapter 82: Keep Your Friends Close...**

x x x

Ianto found Jack in St Mungo's. Getting there on his own had been fun, and he was quite sure illegal, but nobody seemed to be coming to arrest him for now, and he would cheerfully feign ignorance and innocence if they did. He had absolutely no doubt that some random member of the Order of the Phoenix would claim they Apparated him here, too, if necessary... because if they didn't he would spike their drinks with something the Weasley twins made, and there would be nothing even Moody could do to prevent this.

Jack was sitting outside a ward, sulking darkly. Next to him sat Harry Potter and Remus Lupin, and across the hallway leaning against the wall stood the Weasley twins. All four of them were apparently quite upset as well.

"Is he going to be okay?" Ianto asked. Nobody needed to ask who he meant. It was perfectly obvious.

"Yeah." Jack said with a slow nod, "The bullet lodged in his left lung. Half an inch higher and he'd be D.O.A., but instead they were able to vanish the bullet and heal the wound just like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "The blood-replenishing potions will take a few hours, though."

"Unsurprisingly, they're not quite sure how the strange piece of metal got there in the first place." Lupin muttered. The morbid joke at the expense of pureblood society's ignorance of Muggle technology felt entirely hollow and out of place.

"Would you like me to cause permanent harm to Alex?" Ianto asked, sitting down next to Jack.

"Unfortunately, I need Alex alive for several reasons." Jack grumbled. This little exchange earned them both confused looks from the other four wizards present.

"You know the man who shot Sirius?" Harry demanded angrily.

"Used to work for him." Jack replied blankly, "Hate his guts, but I do need him alive... for now." At this, Harry rolled his eyes and proceeded to sulk dramatically.

"If it's any help, I didn't offer to kill him." Ianto pointed out, "Just maim horribly."

Jack smirked sideways at him, "I still need his trigger finger, brain, and legs intact. Other than that... go nuts."

"It's times like this." Fred Weasley began.

"That we really wish." George continued.

"We knew what you were talking about." Fred finished.

Jack just looked up at the pair, still half-smirking, "I already told you."

The twins exchanged a look, then turned back to Jack and as one they announced, "No you didn't!"

"Oh yes I did."

"No you didn't!"

"Oh yes I did."

"Please don't start that, Jack!" Ianto protested, "They will neither give up, nor will they comprehend how lame a joke it is."

"You didn't." Fred grumbled, pouting sulkily at the part of that rebuke that was aimed at him.

"Yeah, I think we'd remember, if you told us about some Muggle conspiracy theory." George added for good measure.

Jack looked at Harry, "Tell me you remember?"

"Well..." Harry said, feigning deep thought when it was perfectly clear he knew _exactly_ what Jack was referring to, "I do recall you saying something before the Triwizard Tournament."

"Yeah, but that was just ridiculous." Fred put in.

"There's no way that Harkness-"

"-is some kind of Muggle-"

"-evil-"

"-genius-"

"-from the future!" George agreed.

"Well... I'm not all evil." Jack admitted with a shrug.

The next few hours passed in uncomfortable silence, but eventually they were allowed to see Sirius.

Who, it turned out was perfectly cheerful about having just been _shot in the chest_. He considered it a great achievement. Apparently when you grow up in the wizarding world, it's not every major and disfiguring injury that leaves a scar, but because it wasn't caused by something that magic understood, magic had a bit of trouble fixing it completely.

The conversation had managed to include the phrase "Chicks dig scars," no fewer than seven times, before Harry and Remus both pitched synchronised fits at him for his lack of caution, and all six of them were unceremoniously ejected from the premises by the medi-witches.

x x x

"Malfoy said you were helping him with something." Harry demanded, as soon as no adults (and horrifying as the notion was, that included the twins now!) were present. It was just Harry, Jack and Ianto, in the hospital corridor.

"I'm helping him with a few things. Which one in particular were you thinking of?" Jack asked, far too calmly.

Harry hesitated. He really wasn't sure exactly what Snape and Malfoy had been arguing about... only that it was clearly something to do with Voldemort. "Er... well..."

"I've offered to teach him mental defence, like I did for you." Jack admitted, "But mostly he's been stuck in the middle of the same incident that got Sirius shot. The Death Eaters heard a rumour about something owned by one of the evil Muggle organisations I used to work for. They were grossly misinformed, and they were using Draco to get more information."

"Unfortunately, it seemed to take too long for Lord What's-His-Face's attention deficit disorder, so he went and attacked the place regardless." Ianto added darkly, "Not his brightest moment."

Harry rolled his eyes. Yes, poking fun at Voldemort was a good exercise, but now didn't seem to be the appropriate time. "What about Malfoy? I got the impression he was up to more than just spying?"

"He didn't spy on me. He outright asked me." Jack said, smirking, "The truth, in this situation, would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. And no, I don't know about anything else he's doing for Voldemort."

"You said mental defence?" Harry asked sceptically.

"He didn't seem interested." Jack shrugged, "But I did offer."

Harry sighed, defeated for now. Jack was a difficult one to judge at the best of times. Sometimes he'd just come right out and tell you everything, but he was a good actor, and if he did try to hide something Harry was quite sure nobody would ever know. Harry honestly wasn't sure what to make of it for now... and his only lead into finding out what Malfoy might have been up to had just gone cold.

Finally Harry asked the only question he could think of to that, "Why?"

Jack shrugged, "He's intelligent, he's my closest friend in my own house, and I'm pretty sure if he wanted to figure out a few of my secrets I'd be willing to tell if I knew he could keep them to himself."

Harry did _not_ like that answer. "I still don't get why you trust him."

Jack laughed, "I never said I trusted him. I know enough to consider it mutual blackmail, if I knew he could block his mind."

"This about a person you call 'friend'?" Harry asked icily.

"I'm flexible." Jack shrugged, "Depends who I'm dealing with as to how I approach them. You're trustworthy, so I don't have to play mind games to be your friend. I do like those games, though, and wouldn't turn away someone like Draco given the choice."

"Why do you think he sticks with me?" Ianto asked, clearly amused.

This was a bit worrying. Ianto did seem perfectly plain and decent on the face of things. Sure, his sense of humour was morbid and dark, but all Jack's friends were like that, even Harry was starting to develop it a bit himself. He figured this just happened if you were friends with the Slytherin for long enough. Then again, Ianto _had_ spiked the drinks of the entire school without ever admitting to how he did it.

Harry just plain wouldn't put anything past Jack, or any of his friends, anymore.

Yet this didn't feel like a reason to push him away. If anything, a connection to his enemies like this could be invaluable... and wasn't it Jack who had taught him that in the first place?

x x x

It was in this mindset that Harry returned to the Burrow... to find the Minister of Magic himself having tea with Mrs Weasley.

Rufus Scrimgeour, whom Harry had only seen in the Daily Prophet, had replaced the disgraced Cornelius Fudge after the debacle in the Ministry of Magic last summer. His presence here was entirely unexpected, and Harry was highly suspicious of it.

There wasn't much these days that he wasn't suspicious of, really. As was becoming far too much the usual, he blamed Jack for that, as well.

"Well." Scrimgeour announced cordially, "It has been quite lovely meeting you, Molly. Delightful tea, but I really don't wish to take up all your time, as the only reason we're even here is so that Percy here could see you all."

Mrs Weasley was all set to go into defensive mode, guessing just as quickly as Harry that the reason the Minister of Magic was here at all was to speak to Harry. Harry cut across her quickly, "I agree, Mrs Weasley. You really shouldn't miss the opportunity to catch up with your son."

Your no-good traitor son who would probably have been on Umbridge's side if he'd still been at Hogwarts last year. But he kept _that_ part to himself... and it was mostly Ron's opinion in any case, as Harry barely cared and would have been quite happy if Percy _had_ really come to make up with his family.

It didn't take the Minister long to latch on to this perceived agreement, and come up with the brilliantly inane excuse of a walk around the garden- in all this snow- as an excuse to get to be alone with Harry.

"I don't feel like playing games, Minister." Harry said bluntly, once they were alone, "Why are you really here?"

There was an element of relief about the man, as his shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed. Glad not to be faking cheer and pleasantries, it seemed. "Well, Harry. Rumours abound. Of course, we both know how these stories get distorted. All these whispers of a prophecy... of you being 'the Chosen One' I assume that Dumbledore has discussed these matters with you?"

Harry thought carefully about this, not meeting the man's eyes as he considered it, and eventually he decided to be honest, "Yes. Privately." the emphasis on this last word was deliberately, to discourage further questions.

Scrimgeour shrugged a bit dismissively, "Oh, of course, if it's a question of confidences. I wouldn't want you to divulge- no, no- and in any case, does it really matter whether you are 'the Chosen One' or not?"

Harry looked at him sharply, "Excuse me?"

"Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously." he back-peddled a bit, "But to the Wizarding community at large... it's all perception, isn't it? It's what people believe that's important. People believe you are 'the Chosen One,' you see. They think you quite the hero- which, of course, you are, Harry, chosen or not! How many times have you faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now? Well, anyway, the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Harry. The idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be destined, to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can't help but feel that, once you realize this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost."

Harry thought about this very carefully. It was all a question of publicity, by the sound of it. The Minister thought, with his support, people would believe everything they said. With the 'Chosen One' on their side, they would be seen as the definitive Good Guys. Pretty clear-cut, black and white... but it wasn't that easy, really, was it.

"Are you asking for a figurehead?" Harry asked, warily, "Or a real ally?"

"Well, of course, either would be appreciated." the Minister admitted, "That would depend on you, now wouldn't it?"

"I have conditions." Harry said flatly.

"And those would be?" Scrimgeour asked, eager at the prospect of coming to an agreement so easily here.

Really, he was making it up on the fly, but the first thing he asked himself when considering potential demands was... what would Jack do? His answer was out of his mouth before he could censor it, "If I agree, the Ministry works for me, not the other way around."

"I- excuse me?" the Minister asked, dumfounded.

"If I'm going to be the hero, I don't want to be _employed_ by the Ministry." Harry explained, "I want to be my own free agent. I'll consult the Ministry, and in return the Ministry will be seen to take my advice when it's given."

"That is... highly unorthodox."

Harry had to fight quite hard to resist the urge to smirk at the shock on the man's face, "There's three kinds of heroes, Minister. The servant of the establishment, which I refuse to become. The renegade, which your Ministry seems to enjoy painting Dumbledore as, and I'm sure you don't want to have to deal with another one. Or, most beneficial to both sides, the one outside the government, but still on their side. I'll take the third option, thanks."

"And you expect us to take instructions from you?" the Minister asked, stuck on that point in spite of what Harry thought was quite an inspirational speech if he did say so himself.

"Hypothetically, let's say I'm the Chosen One. Wouldn't that give me some special power or insight into whatever Voldemort's up to?" He couldn't help noticing the way Scrimgeour flinched at the name, and feeling rather disappointed at him for it.

"Well, of course. If you _were_ the Chosen One."

"Which you want everyone to believe." Harry pointed out.

"Well... what kind of suggestions would you make, if we were to make such an arrangement?"

Harry didn't even think about it before saying, "Veritaserum and Pensieves to test for Death Eaters. Stan Shunpike's being turned into a scapegoat, and there's been no evidence published against him. You'd think the Ministry would learn after what happened to my godfather."

Ah, there was the embarrassment, and defensiveness. Good, that meant he was winning. Scrimgeour rubbed the back of his neck irritably, "Well, you see, we do need to look like we're doing something, after all."

"So examine the people you've arrested." Harry said simply, "I know people say you can resist Vertiaserum, but that's like a tiny minority, and I've heard that Pensieves are supposed to be just as foolproof."

"Well, there are costs involved... Pensieves don't come cheap, you know."

"I'll buy you one. Consider it a Christmas present." Harry said sharply, "This is my condition of the agreement, and I _will_ ask for more later."

Scrimgeour only hesitated for a moment, before shrugging and nodding at the same time. It was a sign of just how desperately he wanted this publicity boost that he did finally hold out his hand to Harry, "Then we have a deal."

Harry shook his hand, "Deal."

x x x

"Jack...?" Ianto asked warily, once they had left St Mungo's and returned to the flat.

They were alone, purely because Jack had become sick of the lack of privacy, and bribed his past self to let them use the bedroom. His past self had likely misinterpreted the reason for their desire for privacy, but Ianto honestly wasn't bothered by the insinuations.

"Yes?"

"I saw someone, after the fight outside the Hub." Ianto said carefully. He was still a little unsure of how to approach this subject, but it did need to be said, even if Jack decided to do absolutely nothing about it.

Jack recognised the tone as leading to something important, "Who?"

"I didn't ask his name, but he said he knew you." Ianto said with a slight shrug, "Actually, he didn't deny when I guessed he was one of your ex-lovers."

"Really not narrowing it down, here." Jack pointed out bluntly.

Ianto gave Jack a sharp look for that, but then rolled his eyes. "Looked about ninety, said he met you seventy years ago." Rounding it up by one year to save himself from obscene jokes seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do, in Ianto's opinion. "Italian."

"Oh, him." Jack interrupted. Ianto was actually surprised that male, nineteen-twenties and Italian was all it had taken. "Wait, what was he doing there?"

"Stalking you, by the look of things. The other you, I mean." Ianto said with a shrug, "Didn't seem like the dangerous kind of stalker, either. Just the... lost without you kind."

"You know, most people wouldn't bother to differentiate their stalkers into categories." Jack pointed out, somehow distinctly colder than Ianto thought he should have sounded, "I'm guessing from the way you started this conversation that you spoke to him?"

"I would have Obliviated him if he was just another spectator for the curse-fight." Ianto admitted, "Just didn't feel right not to ask _why_ he didn't run away screaming like the others, first."

Jack rolled his eyes, disgusted and defensive, "So what did he have to say for himself?"

"He can't remember why you left him. Sounded pretty lucid besides that, so I doubt it's senility making him forget."

"I left him because he... I can't say it. The Secret." Jack said bitterly. "He then accused me of being the devil, and handed me over to a mob that spent a few weeks doing exactly the same thing to me over and over again." He literally growled, staring into the distance as if remembering this bitterly.

Ianto was shocked, and disgusted by this. "So... I'm guessing from that that he is- or at least was- Christian?" Jack nodded. Ianto never could make sense of most religious types, and he was honestly a bit confused as he asked. "And he accused a man of being the devil, with the only evidence of this being a shared ability with his _saviour?_"

Jack snorted with cold and bitter amusement, "Pretty much." He chuckled darkly, "Might not have helped that I seduced him. I'm fairly sure the popular theory is that Jesus Christ was straight."

"Really? I hadn't heard." Ianto joked darkly.

Jack actually laughed, now, and the odd silence that stretched out after it didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as Ianto would have expected. Jack, being the physical sort, leaned against him in a way that begged to be comforted, where most people would be stand-off-ish and defensive. Ianto didn't hesitated to hug him gently.

Eventually, Jack spoke, still sounding far too cold, "He doesn't know because of the Fidelius Charm."

"I assumed so." Ianto said, nodding, but not letting go of Jack.

Not until Jack himself pulled away and met his eyes. There was something terrifying in that gaze, "Tell him for me."

Ianto was taken aback by the intensity of this request, "Why? After what you just told me, I expected you to want him gone?"

"Because it will hurt him more."

Ianto leaned back a bit, surprised. Sure, he could be as vindictive as any psychopath, given the motivation... but that was just _cruel_. "It's that far in the past... does he even need to know?" he asked weakly. If what Jack said was true- if knowing would be a punishment in and of itself- wouldn't seventy years be enough for the man to have beaten himself up over it already?

"Yes." Jack said bitterly, "Because I still do."

Ianto looked away, frowning, "I don't approve of what he did to you... but I can't help but wonder what stopped you from trying to break me for betraying you just as badly when I brought Lisa into the Hub."

There was a very long pause after that, before Jack finally said softly, "Because you didn't plan to hurt anyone. You _should_ have known better, but you didn't _mean_ to cause any harm. You acted out of love." He paused, taking a deep and shaky breath, as if even the memory of what he was about to say next caused him physical pain. "This man... thought he lost me. A year later he saw me alive again. Brought me home with him, made me believe all was forgiven... then after that gave him plenty of time to think about it, he pulled a knife and stabbed me. Even if his shouting hadn't attracted a violent mob, I still would never have forgiven that."

Ianto only thought about it for a moment, before conceding, "If this is what you want."

x x x

On the last day of the Christmas holidays, Harry was invited- 'cordially', even- to the Ministry to witness the hearings of several suspected Death Eaters.

With some help from the twins, for travel purposes, Harry made a detour to Diagon Alley on his way, and purchased a Pensieve. The things really were incredibly expensive, though not a real scratch on his inheritance. He usually hated throwing money around, but this was for a good cause. Harry fully intended to keep it in his vault and only bring it out when the Ministry decided Veritaserum had failed to convict so they needed to try other methods.

Gwen had shown up a few days ago, to update him on Sirius' condition, and told him rumours- which she vehemently hoped were lies and she'd never seen it first hand- about some Muggle law enforcement officers having this problem, too. That the people who paid them expected them to make a certain number of arrests, and if there just weren't any criminals to be caught then they were considered unproductive and had to resort to less savoury means of making up the numbers.

It was disgusting, but it was also quite clear that this was just the way some bureaucratic systems seemed to work. Make the quota to look good, no matter what.

Harry would have no part in that, and determined to provide as much reasonable thought and- as Gwen worded it- 'due process' to the messed up situation as he could.

He was quite shocked when Stan Shunpike went on a ten-minute rant about the corruption of the system and the Dark Lord being the path to liberation, with only one drop of Veritaserum. There were six suspects, and through interrogation, only one of them failed to damn themselves under the influence of Veritaserum. Pleading Imperius and showing memories that proved it and placed the blame firmly on one of his fellow suspects who had already confessed.

Considering the fact that this victim had been a Slytherin, and Harry himself publicly approved of the verdict... Harry was beginning to think _this_ kind of publicity could do a lot of good.

Scrimgeour publicly praised his ingenuity as the Chosen One, ranted off every one of his already well-known heroic achievements, and with some wheedling convinced Harry to pose with him for the cover of the Prophet.

"_No, I will not sign this. If you want autographs I hear Gilderoy Lockhart's doing them again._" making the tagline of said photo was the only downside to the proceedings of that day.

x x x


	83. Thicker Than Water

x x x

**Chapter 83: Thicker Than Water**

x x x

"You're kidding me?" Jack demanded, feigning horror and revulsion, as he sat down next to Harry at the start of the new school term, with a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hand. "Front page, willingly and on purpose? Who are you and what did you do to Harry Potter?"

Ron sneered at Jack a bit, but didn't allow it to interrupt the eating of dinner in any way.

"Well, the Minister made me an unreasonable offer, and I asked myself 'what would Jack do', so I turned his offer around to my benefit and then accepted it."

Jack stared, "You asked yourself 'what would Jack do' and making a deal with the corrupt government and media was your answer?"

"Well, on the strict condition that they accept my 'suggestions' to the letter." Harry shrugged, "What's the problem? It seemed like a... Slytherin thing to do."

Ron made a choking noise, but somehow failed to stop eating. It was Hermione's turn to sneer, this time at Ron.

"Which is probably why he sees a problem with it." Owen supplied cheerfully, raising a glass as if to make a toast as he said it.

"Exactly, when were you so conniving and underhanded? That's our job!" Jack protested, laughing.

"Next thing you know, he'll hire Rita Skeeter to take his side, ah, _vehemently_, if the Minister puts up any kind of fuss." Gwen offered brightly.

"That's not such a bad idea, actually." Hermione said thoughtfully. Ron stared at her incredulously, but _still _ failed to stop eating.

"Oh, what is this, opposites day?" Ginny snorted, from her seat on Harry's other side, "You lot are all acting like snakes, and Jack over there's being... boisterous. I'm pretty sure that's one of our behaviour traits, you know, Harkness."

"Don't bet on it." Owen grumbled, smirking.

"Would you like me to tell you and Harry something very detailed that you can go do with your house prejudices?" Jack offered cheerfully, before outright settling in the seat he had acquired at the Gryffindor table, and starting to also acquire some food.

"Not in front of Ron, thanks." Ginny said cheerfully, while Harry managed to both laugh and splutter indignantly at the same time. "I think I prefer him not choking to death, if you don't mind."

Jack shrugged, "Each to their own, I suppose."

Ron flipped him off, but he remained cheerfully unrepentant.

x x x

The reason that Ron had been wolfing down his food at dinner had been quite simple. Lavender had cornered him at breakfast _and _ lunch that day, and denied him this simple pleasure by sucking on his face for the duration. Not that he minded the kissing... it was the skipping meals he so fervently objected to.

He was quite contently full, now, and wandered up to the common room at a leisurely pace, his greatest worry being the hope that Lavender wouldn't pounce-hug him within the next hour, in case this made him throw up.

He probably should have been more suspicious of the shadows along the wall that weren't cast by anything rational.

He probably ought to have noticed the way his footsteps seemed to echo more than usual.

Unfortunately, he remained blissfully unaware of these suspicious details, until he was seized by both arms and unceremoniously dragged into a nearby classroom.

Only then did his invisible stalkers remove their disillusionment charms.

"Damn it, you two, what's the big idea?" he yelled at Fred and George- though which one was which, only Percy had ever seemed able to tell.

Speak of the devil, but Percy was there as well. As were Ginny, Bill and Charlie.

"This is an intervention, little brother." one of the twins said, almost managing to sound serious for a moment. Almost.

"We think you're going way too far." the other twin agreed sagely.

"This whole Lavender thing has got to stop." the first twin continued.

"Before you really get yourself hurt."

"See, there's girls, and there's girls."

"And this girl's trouble."

"With a capital T."

"We're talking... what's the Muggle thing, Gins?"

"'Bunny boiler'." Ginny agreed, "It's a movie thing, Gwen explained it to me. Point is, she's not good for your health, Ron."

"You even got this git here?" Ron demanded, pointing at Percy, who shifted uncomfortably at the attention being drawn to him, "You really think it's that serious?"

"When Ginny told me about your girlfriend, I felt compelled to intervene." Percy said too-reasonably, "Even the twins agreed with me."

"And that's saying something." one of said twins added, as the other nodded emphatically.

"Look, we've heard all about this Lavender." Charlie spoke up now, "And honestly, what Perce told us about Lockhart's Valentine's Day 'celebration' sounds tame in comparison."

Ron flushed at this. Okay, so she might be a bit sappy. Not _that _ much, though, right?

"Yeah, Won-Won." Ginny mimicked snidely.

Okay, maybe that sappy.

"And she's the clingy sort." one of the twins pointed out.

It was Bill who continued here, "The longer you let them stay attached, the more volatile the inevitable break-up."

"Unless you want to spend the rest of your life with little Lav-Lav?" the other twin teased unrepentantly.

Ron shuddered at that thought.

"So you gonna tell her to shove it?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"Ginny!" Percy chided, horrified at her attitude, which just made Ron and the twins snicker while Ginny stood to her full height and tilted her head back to look down her nose at Percy defiantly. "I don't entirely approve of your choice of boyfriend, either." he added darkly, "However I seem to be outnumbered on the protective older brother front."

"I thought the Ministry liked Harry now?" Bill asked idly.

"Well. Yes, but he is still a rogue element." Percy sniffed.

"Girls like the bad-boys, Perce." one of the twins pointed out cheerfully, "That's why you never got a date 'til your seventh year."

Percy folded his arms defensively, and tried to look superior.

"Hey, does this mean we're talking to you again?" Ron asked him.

"I suppose it does." he admitted, as if he wasn't entirely happy with this, "I never had any ill-intentions towards any of you, but you would insist on following the worst of role models."

"I've seen worse than Dumbledore, Perce." one twin teased, smirking.

"Yeah, a lot of the Slytherins are looking up to Harkness, these days." the other pointed out.

"Even though he's still only fourth year."

"And even you never had respect in fourth year."

"You never had _our _ respect since then, either."

"Not in the least."

Percy snorted, "From what I hear, Harkness _is _ a good role-model. He gets straight-Os in all the classes that count."

"Omitting Divination, we see, Perce." Charlie pointed out.

"Probably because he failed Divination, too." Bill reminded them.

Percy persisted in spite of that, "He's on good terms with most of his teachers, runs a school club, and encourages his classmates to seek out extra credit assignments. He took over a derelict Prefect's duty, this year, to excellent standards, and even Filch seems to like him."

"I heard he made a deal with the Baron." Charlie offered as an explanation for this, "And now Peeves avoids anywhere in the castle that boy sets foot."

"Whereas _we _ made a deal with Peeves." one of the twins pointed out with pride.

"Which went positively swimmingly, I might add." the other twin agreed brightly.

"Literally." Ginny sniped at them.

Ron, most unfortunately, remembered that incident all too well, and grimaced.

"Look, we had a point here." Bill said, cutting off a potential all-out verbal war between the twins and Percy. A battle Percy _never _ won.

"Yes!" a twin agreed, turning on Ron, "Are you going to leave Lavender?"

"Or shall we start saving for your early grave right now?"

Ron rolled his eyes, "She's not _that _ bad, is she?"

"Ron." Ginny said, placing a hand on his shoulder and meeting his eyes, "Percy will tell you she's affecting your grades, which is true. Bill already warned you about the clinginess, because we all know how his sixth-year girlfriend went." Oh yes, Ron remembered. The girl in question had stormed up to the Burrow, the school holiday after Bill had dumped her, and pitched a yelling fit at the front door for almost an hour before their mom got home and gave her what for. "But far more important than all of that." Ginny continued, "_She's making you skip meals_."

Ron blanched, absolutely horrified that he hadn't realised this was a problem until now.

Of course they were right. Lavender had to go.

x x x

Ginny was at the Slytherin table again. So was Harry, because they were a couple now and couples tend to sit together at mealtimes.

Also, Ginny had warned him.

Jack, Owen and Ianto were sitting with them, more to act as a buffer between Harry and a particularly snippy Draco than anything else. Nobody knew why Draco was in a bad mood, but from what little muttering Jack had been able to make out it sounded like somebody didn't appreciate a Christmas gift that Draco had sent them.

"Here it comes..." Ginny warned them all, taking a hold of Harry's hand, "Got your silencing spells ready?"

"Naturally." Ianto said idly, "I'm sitting opposite Owen, aren't I?"

Owen rolled his eyes and turned around to get a look at the Gryffindor table.

It was relatively quiet for now, but Ron was talking to Lavender... and carefully holding her at arm's length as he spoke. Then she shoved his hands away and slapped him hard across the face.

Draco chuckled at this, and Owen kicked him under the table. The resulting glowering match could have gone on indefinitely, had Lavender's shrieking not drawn the attention of them both.

"_YOU'RE BREAKING UP WITH ME! WHY? WHAT DID I DO WRONG?_"

Ron's words weren't audible over here, but he really didn't look like he was trying to be particularly kind about it.

"_BUT I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME?_" Lavender cried, "_YOU'RE A HORRIBLE PERSON, RON WEASLEY! I HOPE NOBODY EVER LOVES YOU AGAIN! I HOPE YOU DIE ALONE!_"

She shoved him backwards onto the table- incidentally getting mashed potatoes, gravy, and a jug full of pumpkin juice all over his robes- and then stormed out of the hall in a vicious, flouncing rage.

"I thought she'd have yelled for longer..." Ginny muttered.

"She was louder than Longbottom's last Howler." Draco laughed, "Bet Weasley falls off his broom, next match. His ears'll still be ringing."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy." Harry growled.

Jack quickly grabbed Harry's wrist, because the Gryffindor boy had reached for a fork in what seemed to Jack like a threatening manner. Of course, maybe he was just paranoid from spending too much time around Owen.

"She only hit about seventy decibels." Ianto observed with apparent disinterest, "It would take a hundred to do any real damage... probably more, since as Ginny said she didn't shout for very long."

Malfoy rolled his eyes in disdain, and then stood and stalked out of the great hall. Leaving his dinner mostly untouched. A vague muttering of, "Bloody Gryffindors." could just be made out as he departed.

"I still don't get why you hang out with him." Harry growled at Jack.

"Just leave it, Harry." Ginny said gently, "He's not doing anybody any harm."

"That we can prove." Harry added darkly.

x x x

Arranging a meeting with a virtual stranger, especially a stalker who never did give you his name, was something most people would probably have trouble with. Thankfully, Ianto had the foresight to have arranged said meeting last time he saw him, before even asking Jack about it. No matter what Jack said, Ianto would have done _something _ here. Anything from Retcon to 'stay the hell away from him if you like your knees bending the right way'.

In giving himself enough time to be sure, he had arranged the meeting for the first of March, as this would be the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school term. He also decided that the best location for this was just about a mile outside the small Muggle-proof town.

As far as the stalker was concerned, this was the middle of nowhere, between a dangerous swamp (Hogsmeade) and a derelict castle in the middle of a minefield (Hogwarts). Ianto wasn't quite sure where the 'minefield' part came from. It hadn't been there when they first started at Hogwarts... but it was certainly there now, as Ianto walked out past the illusion of the sign designed to keep the Muggles out.

The big open field he had chosen as a meeting place was within view of Hogsmeade. If shit happened not only was Ianto fairly sure he could defend himself just fine, but he wasn't particularly far from the dubious illusion of relative safety provided by the 'responsible adults' of the wizarding world.

The car that pulled into the field, crushing the still frozen grass into the hard ground beneath its wheels, was _expensive_. And it had a chauffeur, as well! No wonder the stalker was able to find Jack. He probably had enough money to track down Torchwood Four if given the motivation.

Ianto sat on the fence at the edge of the field nearest Hogsmeade, waiting patiently as the man got out of the back of the car and walked over to him.

"This seems rather out of the way for such a simple matter." the man pointed out, once within earshot. And yet he was willing to make the journey. Said a lot about his faith in instinct. That he must have _known _ how important it was, even if he didn't know why.

"You'll understand why, when I tell you." Ianto said coldly, waiting that little bit longer so that he didn't have to shout to be heard, before adding, "Jack Harkness is immortal."

The man stumbled at these words, missing a step before he caught himself. Just before Ianto could react. Instinct would have caused him to use a spell to steady the man at this distance. An instinct he was thankful to avoid, and mentally kicked himself for, however much one may try to sympathise with the elderly and their tendency towards falling and injuring themselves.

It would have been beyond foolish to reveal that ability to _this _ man. Christianity and witchcraft tended not to get along with one another at the best of times, and he had already proved his lack of acceptance in the past.

Ianto watched the man lean on the fence, shocked- _physically _ shocked- as he tried to process this information.

"How did you...?" he demanded, breathing shaky from the impact of his own memories.

"We have drugs that can block out memories." Ianto said, perfectly truthfully, even if this wasn't the actual cause in this instance. "The right trigger- reminder- can counteract their effect."

The man snorted at this, "Sounds like something he would do." he was still clearly shocked.

When Ianto had told the others; Harry, the twins, even Ron and Hermione... they had all just realised they'd known all along, and that was that. Snape had been disbelieving at first, but none of them had reacted like this. Like the words had been a physical blow.

Jack was right... this had hurt him. Terribly.

Ianto wasn't sure if he should feel bad for it or not. The man _had _ betrayed Jack, after all, and that was unforgivable. Still, he couldn't help but feel some trace of empathy in spite of that.

"It makes sense, now." the man said quietly. "Strange to even be able to forget such a thing."

Ianto snorted faintly, "The wonders of technology." he said flatly, to dispell any possible theorising in the direction of the truth.

The man rolled his eyes, "He's dragged you into that strange world of his, then, has he?"

Ianto shrugged. In spite of the darker tone the man employed to say this, Ianto really never had objected to the life he led with Torchwood. Not to mention, he had gotten into it before he even met Jack. Besides, it worked both ways... he was quite sure Jack hadn't expected the wizarding world either.

"Aliens, time travel, all manner of strange things." the man continued, and Ianto raised an eyebrow at him with some scepticism. Just how much had Jack actually told him? "And he's the strangest of them all."

"Won't argue with you there."

A moment of silence, and then... "You seem awfully young."

"For what? Believing in aliens?" Ianto asked dismissively.

The silence after this was almost palpable, even if it only lasted for a couple of seconds before the man spoke once more. "For understanding my connection to him."

Ianto snorted, trying very hard not to look as defensive as he felt at this, "I've met him. At all, ever. That's enough, isn't it?" He then decided to exercise their Hogwarts cover story, just for good measure, "Besides, if you've been stalking him properly, you'll know that my friends and I have been hanging out with his son. A boy I'm _very _ close to."

"Hmm. Fair enough." the man gave him a surprisingly pitying look, "I hope for your sake that he's not too much like his father."

Ianto folded his arms defensively, "Are we done here?"

The man hesitated, then, "Almost." He reached into the pocket of his coat, and Ianto tensed for a moment half-expecting a weapon or something equally dangerous. All it was, however, was some small object from which hung a fine silver chain. "I always meant to give him this back. Never quite wanted to, but I certainly don't deserve to keep it."

He handed it over, revealing it to be a small silver pendant. Ianto examined it carefully. Inside a delicately engraved silver cage was a glass vial containing what looked suspiciously like... "Is this blood?"

"Yes."

The guilty look on his face confirmed Ianto's first guess, and when he said, "It's his, isn't it?" It really wasn't a question, so much as the obvious conclusion.

The man nodded slowly.

"I don't suppose you realise just how sick that is, do you?" Ianto asked, trying not to look amused in the least. It wasn't funny. Really.

"I didn't make it. I stole it."

"Oh, that's so much more reassuring." Ianto snorted, "You do mean the pendant, right?" Another nod. "I'll tell him that. I'm sure there's a logical explanation behind it."

"There is, yes."

"There's something you're not telling me..."

"There are some things you don't speak of, out loud." the man said, his voice low as if even this may be too much to say, "They have a surprising talent of finding out when you do."

And if that didn't sound suspicious. Jack had probably indoctrinated him so well into the aliens-are-real thing that he believed there was a technological explanation for that. There really wasn't. Not out in the middle of nowhere like this. Magic, on the other hand...

"Thanks for the warning." Ianto said warily, eyeing the pendant a moment longer, before pocketing it.

The man turned to walk away, but then stopped halfway back to the car, "Interesting thing. He's not usually too secretive about his lovers... and he seemed far too lonely, fifteen years ago." He didn't bother to press the point. Clearly he had already made up his mind on the matter.

As he turned his back once more, Ianto shouted after him, "Time travel."

The man chuckled, and Ianto barely heard him mutter, "Of course."

x x x

Jack was anxious.

Sitting in the common room, waiting to hear from Ianto, he just could not relax or concentrate on anything.

"We don't want to ask why he's not sitting still, do we?" Derrin Harper asked, peering over his homework textbook for a moment, before going back to his work.

"Do please shut up." Draco sniped. He, too, was working on something, though it didn't actually look like homework... unless Draco took Arithmancy, which Jack was fairly sure he didn't.

Jack scowled at Derrin, but didn't really care too much about the perpetual, indecent (and in this century generally considered entirely inappropriate for their age group) jokes that persisted about him. If Ianto would let him, he'd make those rumours true, so it really didn't bother him in the slightest.

A moment later, however, Pansy came zooming into the common room with a kind of unholy cheer that made Jack feel sick. That girl was a horrible and cruel person... for her to be _this _ happy, it was quite likely that someone had just died.

"You won't believe what I heard!" she cried gleefully, beckoning Crabbe, Goyle and two of her sycophantic girl friends over to where Draco was sitting. "Professor Slughorn just _poisoned _ a student!"

"Who was it?" one of the girls asked eagerly.

"Weasley." Pansy crowed with glee, "The boy- what's his name?"

"Ronald." Draco supplied, his voice oddly subdued.

"Are we talking the deadly or disfiguring kind of poison?" the other girls asked.

"Deadly." Pansy crowed joyfully. It was strange, the way Draco went so pale at this. The others in this vicious little clique were all so positively _gleeful _ at the thought. "Of course, he's claiming he didn't know the drink was poisoned... but he's a _Potions Master_, isn't he? He would know better."

"You'd think." Draco muttered faintly. He looked genuinely upset, though he was trying very hard to hide it. "Excuse me, Pans. I have... homework." he turned and left the room quickly.

Draco Malfoy just ran off, all but in tears, at the news that _Ron Weasley _ had been poisoned. Jack had never seen more suspicious behaviour in his _life_.

So naturally, he followed Draco.

x x x


	84. Monogamy Is Overrated

x x x

**Chapter 84: Monogamy Is Overrated**

x x x

Ianto walked into the Slytherin common room as if he belonged. Really, they all pretty much thought he did, by now, anyway. Only the yellow and black trim on his school robes ever said otherwise, and even though he was wearing distinctly Muggle clothes at the moment, nobody bothered to take any notice.

Not a single snide remark. Between his allegiances to Jack, Owen, and even Draco- not to mention his own abilities- they knew better.

"Where's Jack?" he asked, after failing to spot him in the common room.

"Sixth year dorms, last I saw." Theodore Nott said dismissively, "Made some piss-poor excuse and ran off as soon as Pansy told us Weasel-boy got poisoned."

"Ron Weasley was poisoned?" Ianto asked sceptically, "Oh, these are the reasons I should never leave the castle. I miss all the fun!"

"Too right!" Pansy Parkinson cheered brightly, "Shame he lived, mind you."

"Terrible shame." Ianto snarked. Surprisingly, the girl failed to pick up on the sarcasm. How she managed to survive being betrothed to Draco Malfoy without any comprehension of irony and satire was beyond him.

Ianto turned to head for the dormitories corridor, and pretended not to hear when Nott shouted after him, "I wouldn't go in there if I were you!"

The warning did, at least, brace him for the inevitable. This was Jack they were talking about, after all.

Upon entering the dorm room, he saw that one of the five beds had its curtains pulled and magically sealed. Didn't take a genius to notice the silencing spell around it, either. He did, however, know a spell to let someone hiding behind a silencing charm know you wanted their attention. Generally sounded like knocking on a door.

The instant he cast it, there was movement... and he liked to imagine some swearing, but didn't really care that much.

Sixth year boys... didn't leave a lot of options. In fact, logically it could only be either Draco or Blaise. Jack had expressed his dislike of Crabbe and Goyle often enough for Ianto to confidently rule them out, and Nott was out in the common room warning people off.

He didn't care much about Blaise. The worst possible- and ludicrously unlikely- outcome of that would be if the boy had learned too well from his black-widow mother.

Draco, on the other hand... there would need to be a damned good explanation.

The curtains flew open to reveal Jack sitting up and looking just about ready to kill. He was dressed, at least, but his clothes were predictably ruffled, and his hair doubly so. What really made Ianto's blood boil was the bruise on the side of his face. That had _not _ been there this morning, and whoever did it was going to pay.

Jack hesitated when he saw it was Ianto who had 'knocked' on the silencing spell, and then relaxed after only a second, grinning far too brightly.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ianto asked, peering past Jack to see only a few locks of blond hair visible between bedsheets and pillow. So it was Draco, then.

"No, your timing's perfect, as always." Jack purred, his tone inviting.

The bedsheet behind him pulled down enough to reveal a single glaring eye, to show that Draco strongly disapproved of Jack's blatant insinuation, "Not in my bed, Harkness." he growled.

Jack grabbed the edge of the sheet and tore it away from Draco, revealing him to- thankfully- also be fully clothed. Draco's glower did it's best to rival a Basilisk. "Hiding won't help." Jack said idly, before turning back to Ianto, "Please do join us, Ianto."

"You should be so lucky." Ianto grumbled, folding his arms in a way that he hoped looked authoritative rather than defensive.

Jack met his eyes quite seriously, "Please join us _inside the silencing spell_." he reiterated.

Ianto looked around the room, but there was nobody there. He shrugged, and obeyed, carefully climbing onto the bottom corner of the bed, before Jack pulled the silenced curtains closed once more.

Draco rather quickly sat up and scrambled to the far corner from Ianto, still sulking.

"This had better be good." Ianto said flatly.

Draco, at least, had the good grace to look guilty... but far more than that, he looked positively miserable. "It might still be, if Draco knew you're not the jealous sort." Jack said pointedly.

"Depends on what there is to be jealous of, doesn't it?" Ianto asked through gritted teeth.

"You can't blame him." Jack said, "Not considering-"

"Don't you dare tell him!" Draco yelled, "You promised-"

"I promised I would protect you. Let's see you survive five minutes without being poisoned yourself, if I don't tell him!" Jack retorted sharply. Draco backed down, shooting a wary glance at Ianto. Jack sat back with a sigh, and some faint muttering that Ianto was sure was swearing, though he couldn't make the words out.

"Tell me what?" Ianto asked carefully. He wasn't angry. He wouldn't let himself get angry... yet.

Jack nudged Draco, to try to encourage him to be the one to explain. Draco chose instead to be bloody awkward. "I fucked your boyfriend." he sneered.

Jack kicked him sharply.

Draco turned on Jack in an instant, literally pounced, and struck him across the face, _hard_. Jack laughed, grabbing Draco's wrist and twisting them, somehow managing to turn them both over so that he was on top and holding Draco, face-down, with his arms pinned against his back.

Still grinning, Jack turned to look at Ianto, "This is what I've been dealing with."

"Looks like fun." Ianto really wasn't entirely sure if he was joking or not, either. It was incredibly difficult not to stare.

"Half a year's worth of fear, anger and frustration. Probably longer than that for sexual frustration, since it seems Pansy Parkinson doesn't put out, and has offered to kill girls for so much as looking at her fiance the wrong way. So he decided to take it all out on me because I asked the wrong question." Jack grinned, twisting Draco's arm just a little more, "I let him, because I wanted an answer."

"Unless it was forty-two..." Ianto said faintly, tilting his head as he watched Draco struggle.

"Ianto!" Jack laughed, shaking his head, "My face is up here."

Ianto quickly pulled his sense of common decency out of whatever gutter it had been discarded in, and looked up at Jack. "Yes. Sorry."

"Draco... would you care to explain in a civilised manner, now?" Jack asked hopefully. Draco mumbled incoherently in the mattress. Jack interpreted this as a yes, and let him go. "Good."

Draco sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists, "Where did that come from?" he asked, staring at Jack in surprise.

"Just because I chose to play submissive, doesn't mean I can't win in a fair fight." Jack shrugged.

"Not very much incentive for me to fight fair, then, is it?" Draco asked vaguely, shifting to sit on the pillow, next to Jack, and opposite where Ianto still sat. He then spent several seconds eyeing Ianto.

Jack rolled his eyes, "He doesn't bite, you know." he told the sixth-year, "Not unless you ask him nicely, at least." Draco suddenly slumped against Jack, who instinctively wrapped his arms around him. "You can trust him, Draco." Jack promised gently.

Draco sighed, admitting defeat here, "The Dark Lord has given me a mission... and I don't think I can do it." Ianto saw the tears start to run down the boy's face as he spoke now, "But if- if I fail he'll kill me... and my family."

Ianto frowned at this, trying to look the other way as Jack hugged Draco to soothe his tears. But then after a moment, Ianto moved just a little bit closed to the pair. He couldn't stay angry, when faced with this display of genuine fear and weakness. In spite of the situation, he still saw Draco as a child and felt compelled to protect him. "Can't kill a dead man." he pointed out, smirking faintly.

"Is than an offer, Jones?" Draco asked bitterly.

"Yes." Ianto said simply. "Fake your death."

"But my-"

"Your family will be called up to Hogwarts, if you're declared dead." Ianto explained, "It's standard procedure." After his own father had been called up here about his injury in the Forbidden Forest, first year, Ianto had read up on these procedures. In '_Hogwarts: A History_'... but given Hermione's habit of saying those exact words and Draco's opinion of her, Ianto knew better than to say this in the Slytherin boy's presence.

Draco stared at him now, clearly never having even considered this option. "I'm... not sure about this." he said, with cautious hope creeping into his tone now.

Jack smiled warmly at Ianto. Not the dazzling hero smile, or the sultry seductive smile. A genuine and open smile that showed he really was happy with Ianto's choice. A smile it was absolutely impossible to stay mad at, however hard Ianto might have tried to do so in the past.

"The Dark Lord might recognise the trick." Draco said, looking up at Jack, and then to Ianto, "Unless we could convince someone loyal to him that it was true."

Jack grinned suddenly, "Ianto, do you think Owen would be up for making Polyjuice potion?" he asked far too innocently.

Ianto's eyebrows shot up as he realised what Jack was implying, "You are _not _ going to-"

"Why not?" Jack asked, turning to look at him seriously, "You know I can do it."

"Do what?" Draco asked, suddenly confused, staring from one to the other in a vain attempt to figure out what they were talking about.

Jack looked back to Draco, grinning eagerly, even as Ianto covered his face with the palm of his hand at the very thought, "I'll take your place. Make a public display of it, and believe me when I say no one will think I'm faking it."

Draco laughed nervously, "I hope we're still talking about my death here?"

"Of course." Jack dismissed, chuckling faintly, "I've done this before... I know it'll work, if we can just find a public enough setting."

Ianto groaned, "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

Jack looked up at him and answered simply, with that infuriating grin that Ianto knew damned well meant there was no talking him out of it, "Deadly serious."

x x x

Ianto left the Slytherin dungeons, and half an hour later he was summoned to the hospital wing, to find Jack sitting up in one of the beds with what looked very much like claw-marks right down the left hand side of his face.

"What the...?"

"Pansy found out." Jack explained cheerfully.

"And yet you're still alive." Ianto deadpanned.

"Yes, although I doubt I could say the same for anyone caught talking about it outside the Slytherin common room." Jack pointed out, "Unlike the rest of the school, we're capable of keeping our indiscretions quiet."

"Better not let Owen hear about it, then." Ianto said idly, smirking, "You know, I'm really glad I got to see this before Madam Pomfrey healed you."

Jack snorted, "You didn't see the worst of it." he admitted.

"As long as magic heals everything, I'm sure I never want to know." Ianto said idly. Jack raised an eyebrow at that in an amused way. If he found it funny, then the worst-case-scenario probably hadn't happened. Still, "This is bound to damage your reputation."

"She cursed me when my back was turned." Jack said with a shrug, "Besides, I wasn't expecting her to work it out so quickly."

"Jack... I can still _smell _ him on you."

"Yes, but she's only sixteen." Jack said flatly, "Unless she's been doing things that could damage her legal contract with Draco, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "So was this really all a ploy to get him to talk to you, then? You couldn't think of a better way?"

"I could think of several." Jack shrugged, "But I'm right at the most infuriating part of puberty, haven't been getting any, and he was clearly in exactly the same position. It wasn't entirely manipulative and underhanded... it was mutually beneficial."

"You could have told me if you-"

"I didn't want you to feel pressured into something you're morally opposed to." Jack looked up at him quite seriously, "You do still think I look too young, don't you?"

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed, before Ianto gave in and admitted, "Yes."

"And you probably disapprove of this on more levels than the obvious..."

"Yes." Ianto said through gritted teeth, "Malfoy's morals seem to be almost as flexible as yours... and that is really saying something."

"I'm over a hundred and seventy years old, Ianto." Jack chided, smirking, "I think I knew what I was doing."

"Still hard to look at it that way." Ianto sulked, finally sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Jack.

"So at what point will you think it's okay?" Jack asked quietly, "Will I have to wait for a specific date upon which I claim to have turned sixteen? Or, since this is the wizarding world, seventeen? Thank god we're not in America, or worse Alpha Proxima. You know, I actually don't know when my birthday is anymore... too much time-travel."

Ianto shook his head, trying not to laugh... and vaguely wondering just what exactly the age of consent was on Alpha Proxima. "I don't know anymore. You _are _ influencing my judgement every time you gripe about arbitrary age limits, you know."

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it quite sharply, biting his lip so as to resist the urge to say what would certainly have been another derogatory remark about such laws.

"I don't mind." Ianto added, smirking, "You make a lot more sense than most arguments I've heard on the subject."

Jack chuckled, and beckoned him closer. Ianto immediately, instinctively, complied, and soon Jack's arms were wrapped around his waist, and he was kissing Ianto's neck lightly. After only a few seconds, Ianto was lost in the sensations, and could almost literally taste the passion in the air. And Jack murmured lightly in his ear, "I could take you right here on this bed..."

Ianto shivered, "Mmmm, I might even say yes... if I weren't so certain that Madam Pomfrey is deliberately waiting for the Worst Possible Moment to come back in here and fix your face."

Jack snorted, leaning his head back and looking up at Ianto with a quizzical smirk, "Is it that bad?"

"No, but she is."

Jack laughed, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

And right at that very moment, Madam Pomfrey's voice called from the doorway, "Just what do you think you're doing, young man? Honestly, I leave you alone for five minutes."

Ianto checked his watch, muttering, "Four and a half." under his breath, which just made Jack snicker. Ianto shot him a sideways look, "I told you so."

"Yeah, yeah." Jack dismissed, smirking, "Later?"

"If you're very good and do exactly what the healer tells you to, then maybe." Ianto taunted, causing him to pout quite adorably.

x x x

Later wouldn't be for another four hours, as it turned out.

Ianto only discovered this through the indignant shock of being summoned from his bed in the Hufflepuff dorms, to another even more comfortable bed in their mysterious room on the seventh floor. Jack had also neglected to summon Ianto's pyjamas, and Ianto was quite certain that that was done on purpose.

"Jack!" he protested, jumping up into a sitting position when Jack tried to cuddle him, "I wish you'd warn me before doing that!"

"That's no fun." Jack pouted. His face was perfectly healed, Ianto noticed. The claw-marks he expected had probably been caused by Pansy Parkinson's _fingernails _ had vanished completely, leaving no scars whatsoever. Almost as efficiently as such wounds would vanish whenever Jack died.

Ianto grabbed a convenient pillow, and whacked Jack over the head with it, "You're impossible!" he cried, trying very hard not to laugh... and not really succeeding in this endeavour.

Jack laughed outright, tearing the pillow away from him and very quickly efficiently pinning him down to the bed, on his back. Ianto really didn't try to put up much of a fight, as Jack straddled him, holding both his wrists securely down on either side of his head.

He leaned in to kiss him, but Ianto turned his head to the side, closing his eyes, and Jack stopped. "Sorry." he said softly.

Ianto half-sighed, half-growled. "I hate my own morals, sometimes."

"I have to agree." Jack muttered vaguely, letting him go.

Ianto chuckled, "One of these days, you're going to take me by surprise, and I'll not care enough to stop you."

He turned to see an odd combination of amusement and genuinely critical fascination in Jack's eyes, "Oh yeah? Am I meant to interpret that as a good thing, or not?"

Ianto shrugged, "Probably."

Jack noticed the slightly malicious amusement in that word, and promptly hit him over the head with the pillow. "You're not being very helpful, you know."

"Thinking about it is _never _ helpful." Ianto said flatly. It was true enough, the more he thought about it the more the logic he had lived with all his life (before Jack) told him how wrong it was.

Jack growled, and rolled over so his back was turned to Ianto.

He didn't react at all when Ianto added, "You know, I never actually told you to stop, this time."

What Ianto didn't realise was that Jack was just plain sick of being teased like this, and had decided to leave it for the night and wait for Ianto to make the next move.

x x x

Unlike Jack, Draco had escaped the encounter with Pansy without any serious injury.

She had threatened to sue him for breach of contract, before he pointed out that his parents had held the upper hand in the negotiations, being the rich family her parents had wanted to get married into, and as such nowhere in the contract had it said _he _ needed to be loyal to her. If she didn't like it, he would be perfectly happy to release her from the agreement.

She slapped him and stormed off without answering that. He was quite sure she wouldn't let him off the hook so easily. Ironically, physically assaulting him was _not _ just cause for him to terminate the contract... and she damned well knew it.

But now, a week later, Draco had the misfortune of running into Ianto Jones in an otherwise abandoned corridor.

He reached for his wand immediately, but he did hesitate when Jones held up his hands to show he was unarmed. Not that that said much, considering the rumours that the older students had circulated about this one, last year.

"This plan I have for you to end up dead." he said calmly, "You need to do one more thing to make it work."

Draco snorted at the unusual choice of wording. It did make it sound like a big joke about revenge, far more than an actual plot to fake his death. He backed up a couple of steps, then beckoned Ianto to follow him into a deserted classroom. The younger boy promptly cast a dozen silencing spells on the walls and doors, before turning his attention back to Draco.

"You know, if I did want to kill you, for real, nobody would hear you scream." he pointed out, with entirely too much morbid amusement for Draco's comfort, "But seriously... we need you to get close to one of us. Jack will be impersonating you, so that won't work. What we need is an illusion of an emotional connection, between you and someone we trust completely."

"Why, exactly?" Draco asked cautiously.

"Someone we trust needs an excuse to cry over your 'corpse'."

Draco shuddered slightly at the wording, especially as it was said in such a matter-of-fact way. "Any suggestions? You don't seem the crying type, to me."

"I was thinking either Toshiko Sato, or Gwen Cooper."

"But they're both Mu-" the _Look _ Jones gave him for even thinking that word stalled him, and he corrected himself, "Muggle-borns."

"We have trust issues." Jones said flatly, "It's either one of them, or you start publicly dating me." Draco seriously started weighing up the pros and cons of that suggestion, before Jones realised what he was thinking and shook his head, "Just pick one of the girls." he ordered sharply.

"Sato." Draco said quickly. So much better for his public image that she be a Ravenclaw, rather than a Gryffindor.

"Well, either way, this is entirely for show." Jones pointed out idly, "And Owen will be out for your blood if you hurt Tosh, whether he realises he likes her yet, or not."

Draco snorted, "All part of your brilliant, evil plan, right?"

"Exactly." Jones said brightly.

x x x

**Author's Note**: Those of you who reviewed and haven't had a reply, I am so sorry. If your review was detailed I do still plan to get back to you (eventually), otherwise just know that I love every least word of encouragement and I thank you all most sincerely.

Also, we have a discussion/social group for The Magic of Torchwood, on Facebook. This now features bonus material, including 'Outtakes', and the old April Fools chapter. I'm also hoping to conjure up some more fanart to post/link there, as well. You can find this by clicking the homepage link on my profile.


	85. Dead Men Tell No Tales

x x x

**Chapter 85: Dead Men Tell No Tales**

x x x

"So it was you who was stealing our room all year." Jack asked with only mild annoyance. He had thought it was a lucky coincidence that he had managed to get back into the room after that particularly interesting day a couple of weeks ago, but Draco had just come right out and told him that he had been plotting the downfall of Albus Dumbledore in there for months.

"And it was you who made lewd remarks to Goyle while he looked like a first-year Ravenclaw girl?" Draco asked brightly.

"No." Jack admitted, a bit surprised, "I just told the pair of them Filch was appealing for the right to flog loiterers... and they were Hufflepuffs that day."

"Hmm... someone called Goyle a 'pretty girl'." Draco shrugged, "They both refused to stand guard for me after that." Jack chuckled almost sadistically at that thought. "Goyle insisted it was the Bloody Baron, too." Draco added with an amused snorted, "I honestly thought it was you. Either way, I'd like to congratulate whoever it was. Those two don't scare very easily, and it gave me a right good laugh."

"So what exactly _have _ you been doing in here, all this time, anyway?" Jack asked idly.

The doors to the room- which Draco claimed was officially named the Room of Requirement- had just opened to reveal a vast maze of old furniture and magical artefacts, piled so high in some places that he couldn't see how far up it went. He literally could not see the ceiling or the far walls at all. The dust was so thick, twisting unnaturally in shafts of sunlight from overhead, that it formed a faint grey mist after about twenty feet in all directions, oddly failing to affect the area where they stood or make them cough in any way.

"I already told you. Plotting the demise of Albus Dumbledore." Draco sniped, looking mildly revolted, "Under orders, of course." he added dourly.

"I know you told me, it's just hard to believe even Voldemort would be stupid enough to think a teenager could pull that off."

"Why do you keep saying his name?" Draco asked despairingly.

Even as they talked, he was leading Jack through the labyrinth of shelves, desks, cupboards and any other storage unit you could come up with a name for- and a few you couldn't- all laden with piles and piles of books and assorted magical rubbish.

"Because I'm not afraid of a word." Jack dismissed, as if this was the most ridiculous concept he had ever heard of. Really, it didn't even make the top ten.

"How are you not afraid of him?" Draco asked, stopping walking and turning to stare at Jack in confusion, "How can you not fear to speak his name?"

Jack rolled his eyes in mild exasperation. He was getting used to this mentality from the wizarding world, but he was still quite determined to break it wherever he encountered it. "The name is an affectation, it isn't even his real name. Fear his name, or speak it with reverence, and he holds power over you. Laugh in his face, and call him by an insulting nickname, and he's suddenly a hell of a lot less intimidating."

"You sound like you speak from experience..." Draco muttered, staring at him warily.

"Yeah... never met Voldemort- oh, stop flinching, it's only a name!- but he's not the only one to use an alias to intimidate people."

"Only a name... easy for you to say, you weren't raised with the concept that his name's all-but sacred."

"Voldemort." Jack said, watching as Draco flinched, "Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort." he glanced the around room dramatically, "Nope, didn't summon him by saying it three times. How about calling him Voldie, or what did Potter say his real name was? Tom, Thomas, Tommy-boy!"

Draco cringed, "You're insane!"

"Nope, don't think so. Not last time I checked." Jack retorted, grinning, "You're the crazy one for being afraid of a name. You know Voldemort- stop flinching already!- is a really _bad _ French translation of 'cheater of death'. Really bad, abbreviated, but Tosh thinks that's what he was getting at. So... replace the last part. Volde-_merde_."

Draco snorted with horrified laughter, "My god, you're impossible!"

"Thank you." Jack said, grinning.

Draco threw up his hands in exasperation, and turned and stormed off down the path between the piles of old and in several cases broken furniture. Jack quickly jogged after him, not wanting to be left behind and get lost. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if these walls made of junk were capable of rearranging themselves... like the rest of Hogwarts, only somehow more malevolent.

Finally, they stopped between what looked like an ornate but ancient wardrobe, and a bookcase covered in jewellery and wigs. Draco indicated that the wardrobe was in fact what they were here for.

As if the rest of the place wasn't creepy enough- the sense of there being something alive hidden just out of sight in that dusty mist, the unnerving feeling that the 'walls' would move if he wasn't careful, and the creeping darkness between the bookcases- but standing just in this particular spot added to it all by making him feel like he was being watched, in all the wrong ways.

In an attempt to dispel this feeling, he asked flippantly, "So what's in there? Narnia?"

"Do I want to ask...?" Draco asked blankly.

"It's a novel. But honestly, the movie's better." Jack dismissed, "Seriously, though. What is it?"

"It's a vanishing cabinet." Draco explained, rolling his eyes as if Jack should somehow have known this already. Like it was one of those things only Muggle-borns and idiots ever _don't _ get. "You step into it, and it sets you outside the real world for a time. People used to use them to hide, back in the days when the Death Eaters would randomly raid their homes. Thing is, there are rare occasions when they come in pairs... and this is one of those sets. You can step into one cabinet..."

"And out through the other one." Jack guessed reasonably.

"Exactly." Draco nodded, but then added somewhat deflated, "When they're working. Peeves broke this one a few years ago. I've spent the entire year trying to fix it, so that the Death Eaters can use its sister in Borgin and Burke's to get into Hogwarts undetected."

"All year?" Jack asked, amused, "You really don't know how to use this room, do you?"

Draco gave him a vicious glare for that. Jack did not deign to explain himself, however. "That's not even the point. I could make this work, easily. I've got it all figured out."

"So what is the problem, then?" Jack asked, shifting a little bit uncomfortably. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, the feeling that there was a terrible predator in the room just waiting with keen and malevolent intelligence. It was not a comfortable sensation.

"Well, he wanted _me _ to be the one to personally murder the headmaster." Draco said flatly, "That's the part I've been agonising over. I know I have no chance of succeeding at _that _ part of the deal."

"But sneaking homicidal maniacs into Hogwarts, no problem, right?" Jack asked, amused.

Draco rolled his eyes, "That would be my second issue. Entirely aside from the part where I'm expected to be capable of defeating a wizard who has taken on the Dark Lord and not only survived, but drawn a stalemate through raw magical power... _twice_. I also heard the names of those _he _ planned to send for this mission."

"And...?"

"Fenrir Greyback."

"Who?" Jack asked blankly.

Draco gave him a sceptical look, and scoffed disbelievingly, "Don't tell me you've never heard of him?"

"Nope. Never." Jack said with a flippant shrug. He didn't really feel as calm as he acted, though. That sense of dread in the air was getting stronger, somehow.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Fenrir Greyback is the most well-known and most _vile _ werewolf in Britain. Or most of Europe, for that matter. He is known for deliberately staking out the homes of people who offend him, on the full moon, and hunting their children. Letting an animal like him loose in Hogwarts is just asking for trouble."

"And you still respect Voldemort enough to avoid using his name." Jack said with some exasperation. In spite of his total irreverence, Jack felt a chill up his spine when he said the name, that time.

"I fear his insanity enough." Draco sniped back.

"Fair point." Jack conceded, "From all I've heard, he sounds like a bloody lunatic." He shivered slightly, and looked around suddenly for the source of that feeling. It was _not _ his own emotion. Something else here was affecting him.

"Is it me..." Draco asked slowly, "Or did it just get colder in here?"

Jack frowned, his eyes landing on the bookcase covered in jewellery. He could swear the _shadows themselves _ were avoiding one particular, old and tarnished silver tiara. It wasn't glowing, it wasn't giving off any kind of light... the dust and the darkness simple _avoided _ it. Just looking at the thing made him feel suddenly quite ill.

"It started when I insulted Voldemort." Jack said carefully, "The deranged ophiophiliac megalomaniac bastard with an Oedipus complex."

The shadows around the tiara literally recoiled, and Jack felt that same chill once more. Like death itself was trying to reach out to him.

"What's an Oedipus complex?" Draco asked blankly. He _got _ the rest of the insult, by the sound of it. Being pureblood, the literal meaning of the word 'bastard' most likely wasn't lost on him, either.

"Someone who wants to murder their father and have sex with their mother." Jack explained vaguely, shivering once more as he said it. He reached out and picked up the tiara, feeling intense cold biting into his hand as he did so, "I think this piece of jewellery is loyal to your Dark Lord, Draco."

"Ha bloody ha." Draco sneered.

"I'm not kidding." Jack said flatly, "Look at it."

Draco barely glanced at it, and backed off when Jack held it out to him, "I don't want to."

Jack chuckled, "I'll bet you don't." He turned it over in his hands, and read the inscription. '_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_'. "Well damn."

"What?" Draco asked suddenly looking in spite of himself.

"The Baron asked me to find this for him." Jack laughed, "That was ridiculously easy! I sort of half-expected to have to infiltrate Voldemort's ranks, and possibly even try to seduce either him or your Aunt Bella, to find out where he hid this damn thing."

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain right up his arm, like ice burning up through the bone, and he dropped the tiara. Diadem, the Baron had called it.

"Uncooperative little-" he hissed, "He didn't tell me it was sentient." He knelt next to it, noticing that while the shadows he himself cast on the diadem was perfectly normal, the general darkness of the ground seemed to cringe away from it.

Shadows. Plural. He was casting three of them.

He looked up at the ceiling and saw the shafts of light coming in only from one side. "Draco... I think we should take this delightfully friendly and interesting artefact, and leave. Now."

"Huh? Why?"

"Just do as I say." Jack said in the tone of false calm, hiding fear that's usually more terrifying for the fact you try to hide it. That in itself usually inspired total obedience, though... which was always a benefit.

Draco nodded, and quickly started to lead the way back out of the Room of Requirement.

By the time he reached the exit, Draco seemed to still be unaffected, but Jack now noticed _four _ shadows at his own feet. He glowered down at the ground, vaguely wondering if there was a spell to kill these things... but then he remembered a detail from a minute ago, and a fully-formed and brilliant plan came to mind.

He whispered some quite thoroughly obscene inter-species and pro-Muggle innuendos to the diadem itself, then held it low to the ground.

It worked. Made him feel like some murderous beast made of dry ice was clawing up his arms and face, but the shadows dispersed almost immediately, and he quickly left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The diadem clutched firmly in fingers that now felt so numb he was surprised they didn't fall off.

"What was that?" Draco asked, scowling.

"The shadows." Jack said quietly, slumping down to the ground, his back to the wall opposite the door. "I've heard about them before, but never seen them. Monsters that swarm in the darkness and are capable of stripping all living flesh from their victim in seconds."

Draco shuddered at the thought, "I've never seen anything like that, in there, before."

Jack frowned, "The dust and mist... was it always like that?" Draco nodded. "If you've been in and out of there all year... I wonder why they attacked me."

"Maybe they think you'd taste better."

Jack looked up at him with a twisted smirk, "Do _you _ think that?"

Draco sneered at him, but didn't comment. Jack shook his head, and looked down at the diadem in his hands, "I suppose I should take this to the Baron, then."

Draco frowned, and after a couple of seconds hesitation, he knelt next to Jack, "You alright there, Jack?"

He snorted, "I've had worse dates." he sniped weakly. Only half-hearted, really. "It feels like this thing is cutting into my hands... like ice burning right up my arms."

"Maybe you should set it down...?" Draco suggested, trying to guide his hand towards the ground without actually touching the diadem himself.

"I... really don't want to, though." Jack said with a deep frown, "It feels..." The fact that the vast collection of pop-culture references available to his mind nearly made him say the word 'precious' really freaked him out a bit, and he suddenly did drop it. Rubbing his hands together they suddenly felt warm again, as if there had never been any cause for pain in the first place. It was quite jarring, really.

"The Baron always did have strange tastes." Draco muttered darkly, trying to break the tension.

"Hmm. According to legend, though, that... thing was meant to belong to Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Can't be right." Draco said derisively, "Even I can tell there's something off about it. Every time you said _his _ name, it sends chills up my spine."

Jack thought about it for a moment, then shakily stood up, picking the diadem up through his robe rather than with his bare hands. It didn't burn him with the cold that way. "I'll try and figure out what _he _ did to it."

Of course, with all their plans to fake Draco's death, the team didn't have time to analyse the diadem, so it got set aside in a safe corner of the Chamber of Secrets, along with all of Owen's other 'on hold' projects. These projects were mostly potions, and included the likes of Felix Felicis, and an unnamed potion invented by Godric Gryffindor's grandson, which Owen refused to identify, beyond the fact that he was making it 'for fun' rather than for anything practical.

They were careful to keep these projects and dangerous artefacts a safe distance from one another, just to be sure.

x x x

The Slytherin/Hufflepuff Quidditch match was about to begin, and the Torchwood team, plus Draco Malfoy were huddled together near the entrance to the Slytherin changing rooms, out of sight of the stands where the rest of the school had gathered. It had been just over a month since Jack and Ianto had promised to help Draco out of his minor moral misunderstanding with the Dark Lord, and today they would follow through on it.

"Here we go, just need the- ugh- part of the person you're turning into." Owen said, offering Jack a small flask of potion. Jack sniffed it tentatively, "Yeah, it's disgusting." Owen confirmed when Jack wrinkled his nose at it.

Jack held the flask out to Draco. Both of them were wearing identical sets of Draco's own Quidditch robes, which were noticeably too big for Jack. Draco carefully plucked a single hair from his head and dropping it into the flask. The potion made a disturbing hissing, sizzling noise, and its rank odour was replaced by a scent not too dissimilar to Draco's own.

"I don't like this, Jack." Gwen pointed out dourly.

"We're saving lives, Gwen." he observed, "Alright, not necessarily innocent lives, but still." he shrugged, glancing at Draco who smirked faintly.

"You're sure that potion is going to work?" Draco asked Owen, nervously. He was blatantly uncomfortable with the concept of working with the two Gryffindors here, but he seemed to have accepted Jack's word for it that they were on the same side, and since he had been friends with Jack he had seen some evidence of just how this strange clique operated together quite seamlessly.

"Of course I'm sure." Owen said defensively, "I'm the only Gryffindor to get straight-Os in Snape's potions class. Ever." he said with pride, "I know what I'm doing."

"Alright, we all know the plan?" Jack asked, "Tosh, remember to get this flask away from me before anyone else gets near."

Tosh nodded. She had been spending the last three weeks hanging around with Draco, to give the impression that they were close, so she could play her part believably.

"The rest of you, you've got an hour to make the switch, at best." Jack said, before flinching slightly and adding, "Maybe ten minutes at worst, if the potion doesn't inhibit my... natural talents." They hadn't explained this to Draco, and that showed on the boy's face... but they weren't about to explain now, either.

They all nodded solemnly.

"Trust me, I took that into account." Ianto said simply, "It _will _ be one hour."

Jack gave him a slightly fearful look for that. Honestly, the longer it rendered him temporarily-dead the more damaging and/or painful it usually was.

But then he forced a false grin. "Let's go then." he said, raising the flask of Polyjuice potion as if making a toast. He took a mouthful of the stuff, which didn't taste half as bad as Owen had led him to believe it should... then he doubled over in pain. It felt like his entire body was melting.

When the pain faded and he stood up straight again, he looked at his hands, slightly stunned. Gwen offered him a hand-mirror, and when he looked, he saw Draco Malfoy's face staring back at him.

"This is... different." he chuckled, noticing that even his voice- though interestingly enough not his accent- had changed to match Draco's. As he was trying to get accustomed to his new appearance- body in general, it even felt different- Gwen, Owen and Tosh led the real Draco away, out of sight.

He turned to Ianto, "You've got the next part covered?"

"I told you, never doubt me." Ianto said, grinning. It didn't quite reach his eyes. "I have connections."

"You scare me sometimes, Ianto." Jack said, laughing nervously, "Just... promise I won't see it coming, and it'll be quick."

"I promise." Ianto said, sadly. Jack knew how much Ianto hated seeing him die, and to be the cause of it this time- Jack hadn't wanted to know the details, only that Ianto had volunteered a form of death that should be both dramatic and quick- he knew this must be making him feel terrible.

"I'll be fine." Jack said gently, "You know me."

x x x

Severus Snape was watching the Quidditch match with mild disinterest. Slytherin were blocking every goal and had even scored twice... but he wasn't paying attention to the Chasers.

His young charge, Draco Malfoy, whom he had made an Unbreakable Vow to protect, was flying off-form. Too low, and wavering a bit as if unsure. Severus sighed, trying to keep the dramatic emotion behind it hidden from others. The poor boy was probably pushing himself too hard in his attempt to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes.

Severus actually saw the golden snitch fly right past Draco, without the young Seeker even noticing it. But then, just as Draco flew past the Ravenclaw stands near his own team's goalposts, something truly horrifying happened.

A Bludger soared up from the fray below, and struck Draco with phenomenal force on the back of the head, knocking him off his broom. Severus reacted instantly, drawing his wand and casting a slowing spell on the Slytherin Seeker as he fell... but he had a dreadful feeling that it was too little, too late.

The entire crowd gasped in shock and immediately began buzzing with conversation, trying to figure out what was happening and why.

When the boy landed lightly on the ground, the Ravenclaw fourth-year that Draco had been flirting with for almost a month rushed out onto the field, shrieking, "Draco! No!" She put a hand to his cheek and then yelled in horror. Even from this distance, Severus could see the blood on the girl's hand, before she flung herself over Draco and began to sob.

Seconds later, Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey had joined her. Severus turned and swept down the stairs to join them as well.

He emerged onto the pitch, wishing the terrified girl would just stop screaming, so that perhaps he could think. "He's dead, Severus." Madam Pomfrey said, shocked, "The Bludger cracked his skull. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. He was gone before he even fell off his broom."

Severus felt sickened at this news. He had promised to protect Draco, but there was no way he could have foreseen a sporting accident like this. Nothing he could have possibly done to save the boy.

Instead, he took his anger out on the poor girl, grabbing her arm and dragging her away from Draco's body, "Pull yourself together, you silly girl." he hissed darkly, but she somehow managed to start crying all the more for his words.

Then another student ran out onto the pitch. The Hufflepuff boy, Ianto Jones, hardly ever seen outside the company of one of Severus' other favoured students, Jack Harkness... and for reasons they both made quite obvious. Yet here he was alone. He put an arm around the girl, "Come on, Tosh. Please." he said to her, gently, leading her away. Severus glowered at the two fourth-years, but allowed them to leave.

He had far more pressing matters to deal with.

x x x

What Gwen referred to as 'the hysterical female act'- a skill she had taught Tosh herself- worked incredibly effectively, and Tosh was left alone to mourn 'Draco'. The instant this was so, the other three had brought the real Draco into the hospital wing, a simple charm from Tosh to make his hair look bloodied, then they gave him Owen's best Draught of Living Death (not one of them mentioned to Draco that Slughorn's star student, Harry Potter, had helped to brew it... nor had they mentioned to Harry why they wanted it) and snuck Jack out.

All according to plan.

And not a moment too soon, either. Seconds after hiding in a disused classroom, Jack melted back to look like himself... and immediately woke from the dead. He reached a hand to the back of his head as he looked up at them all, turning specifically to Ianto, "Cracked skull?" he asked, "How'd you manage that?"

"It was a Bludger." Gwen explained, "But Ianto won't tell us how he did it."

Ianto just shrugged, "What can I say? I'm that good."

"You mean that evil, mate." Owen offered, turning to the others, "It's really worrying that he can plot murder like this, you know."

"Very." Jack said, grinning as if proud of Ianto for this. He took the bundle of spare clothes they had brought for him, and within a minute he was dressed in his usual school robes. The spare Quidditch robes, as they were evidence, were promptly incinerated.

"Job well done, I think." Gwen said, a bit edgily. The method had been most unorthodox, and she'd been very uncomfortable with it all, but they had succeeded in their plan.

The reason the Fidelius charm wasn't altering their perception of the death this time was, as Ianto had very carefully researched beforehand, because nobody thought they had seen Jack Harkness die. All those affected by the charm were absolutely certain that they had witnessed Draco Malfoy's death. The entire school had seen it.

There was no way that Voldemort could think it was a hoax, now.

x x x


	86. Bad Faith

x x x

**Chapter 86: Bad Faith**

x x x

Lucius Malfoy was absolutely livid, horrified, pained, and a whole host of other negative emotions. He wanted to kill someone, but the witnesses had clearly stated that no one had actually _hit _ that Bludger at his son. It had gone after him all by itself. Of course there was to be an enquiry, but that didn't help matters now.

Narcissa was a wreck, sobbing uncontrollably, even as they entered Hogwarts. If the circumstances had been less dire, he would consider the behaviour embarrassing... but had circumstances been less dire, he doubted his wife would show such a blatant public display of emotion.

As was only to be expected, the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was waiting there for them.

"Lucius, Narcissa." he said in what was obviously meant to sound like a comforting tone. It didn't quite manage to seem believable, in Lucius' opinion, "I am sorry that we must meet in such circumstances."

Lucius wanted to rip this man's tongue out for daring to speak to him so... amicably, right now. Unfortunately, regardless of what Lucius was certain was obvious animosity on his own part, Dumbledore continued.

Lucius tuned out the inane prattle. It was a nauseating combination of inane pleasantries, false condolences, and misplaced blame upon the Dark Lord. Of course, now the Dark Lord can control Bludgers from four hundred miles away, and chooses to exercise this frivolous power against one of his own loyal servants. Made perfect sense.

Lucius wanted to murder the senile old bastard who called himself headmaster.

When they were finally led to the room where their son was being kept, Lucius turned a very cold stare on Dumbledore, and the old man actually took the hint, leaving them alone. Lucius led his tearful wife into the bare room. No portraits, he noticed... interpreting that detail as no spies for Dumbledore.

But they stopped short when he saw that someone else was here, in a chair next to where Draco's body had been laid out. Another student, wearing Slytherin robes, sitting still as a statue, just watching Draco's face. It was eerie, in a way.

Then as soon as the door closed behind Lucius, the other boy- and now Lucius saw his face- looked up at them both. Jack Harkness stood slowly, formally. "I'm sorry for this." he said quietly.

"You say that as if it was your fault." Lucius hissed darkly, noticing distantly how his wife moved silently, gliding like a ghost to Draco's other side, tears running down her face. Harkness, who kept his focus on Lucius, blinked once... not showing any sign of denial or defence, nor even surprise at the accusation, and Lucius suddenly realised that this was exactly what the boy was implying.

But before threats or curses could get past Lucius' utter shock, Harkness held his hands up defensively, unarmed, all-but surrendering as he asked a question that seemed entirely out of place, "Can I assume that Professor Dumbledore tried to persuade you that this was the Dark Lord's work, and that you really should turncoat against him?"

Lucius snorted in disgust, "Yes." he hissed, drawing his wand and aiming it at Harkness' heart. The boy watched this, but strangely he didn't react to it, "I don't believe him, but we have little choice in the matter now."

Harkness nodded slowly, glancing at Draco, "Draco told me that he was afraid if he failed in his mission, the Dark Lord would kill all three of you. He told me everything..."

"Why-?" Narcissa choked out, the word sounding more like a sob than a question.

But Harkness asked another question, instead of answering, "You will betray Voldemort?"

Lucius flinched at the name, stunned that the boy had the nerve to say it. Only the Order of the Phoenix said that name, and the boy's tone in referring to Dumbledore been derisive at best. "You did this." he accused darkly, "Just to deprive the Dark Lord of a few servants?"

Harkness was getting a bit edgy, now, watching Lucius' wand warily, like the dangerous weapon they all knew it was, "I'm sorry for hurting both of you like this." he said quietly, as good as admitting to it. Lucius opened his mouth to cast a curse at the boy, but Harkness continued to speak, a bit faster now, "But it was what Draco wanted."

Narcissa began crying more audibly, now, sobbing over their son's body. "How dare you-" Lucius started, but Harkness interrupted him quickly.

"He's not dead."

This silenced Narcissa and made both of them turn at once to stare at Draco, "The accident was an elaborate hoax for the Dark Lord's benefit. If we had told anyone- even you- then he would have known as well, and he would never have allowed you to come here."

Lucius stared at the boy, utterly dumbstruck. The sheer nerve of saying such a thing, when the evidence of their son's death was laying right next to him, and everyone at Hogwarts was a witness to it! And Narcissa was staring at Harkness now, with hope in her eyes... false hope, Lucius thought darkly. How dare this child play such cruel games with them!

Harkness glanced cautiously from Lucius to Narcissa and back again, before hiding his uncertainty and speaking with the same measured calm that he had before, "I know there's an enchantment to reveal the use of Draught of Living Death... I'd be afraid to get it wrong, trying it myself."

Lucius dared glance at Draco's body, now. He truly did look dead, and it hurt so deeply to even think that. But false hope was somehow worse. He didn't dare trust the boy.

Narcissa, on the other hand... she drew her wand the instant the boy had finished speaking, and started whispering the enchantment. A pale white light shimmered over Draco, revealing that Harkness had spoken the truth, and Narcissa cried with joy at this. Even if the potion had been imbibed, that effect would only appear if the subject was still living _as well_.

Lucius lowered his wand, stunned, "But the Bludger...?" he asked, not taking his eyes from his son now.

Harkness relaxed, now, grinning even, "We're just that good." he said smugly.

Lucius looked at him sharply, "We?"

"You think Draco and I could do this alone? Neither of us can make that potion, for a start." Harkness said, almost ecstatic in his relief that they believed him now... and it was perfectly clear that he saw this as a great victory worth celebrating, and was almost as relieved to drop the facade of mourning.

"Who else, then?" Lucius asked, curious, "You can't be part of Dumbledore's little Phoenix group?"

"I certainly am not." Harkness said, grinning, "I don't trust him in the slightest. Only four people outside this room know that Draco is still alive, and I would trust each one of them to the ends of the Earth."

Lucius snorted, "Is the correct phrase not to trust them with your life?"

"My life's not that valuable." Harkness said, shrugging innocently, causing Lucius to snort with an emotion somewhere between amusement and relief. "If it was, someone else would have been here to face you with the news."

Narcissa made a near-hysterical, slightly strangled, whimpering giggling sound, "You did all of this to get us away from the Dark Lord?" she asked. She was clutching Draco's hand now, and wiping at the tears on her face with her free hand.

"Yes." Harkness said, nodding, "He wanted out, and this was the only way we could think of."

"Incredibly effective." Lucius had to admit, "And very brave of you to face us now."

Harkness shrugged, "You know enough from the last time we met, Mr Malfoy." he said idly, smirking a bit smugly, but then he turned his head to the side slightly, one hand moving up to his ear, and frowning, "I think you need to put on the sad faces, again, now... we're about to have company."

He backed up quickly into a corner, behind a bookcase, completely out of sight... and not a moment too soon as the door swung open a second later. In the doorway stood Severus Snape, who scanned the room intently- spending perhaps a moment longer gazing at the bookcase Harkness had hidden behind, before turning to face Lucius.

"I am terribly sorry for your loss, Lucius." he said. Unlike Dumbledore who was trying to use the situation to his advantage, and Harkness who had orchestrated the entire damned thing, Severus was genuinely upset by what had transpired here.

Narcissa, meanwhile, was refusing to look at Severus. In fact, she was biting her nails- a habit she had never indulged in, before to Lucius' knowledge- in a nervous and... almost guilty fashion.

He would not break the illusion Draco and Harkness had worked so hard for by calling her out when she might just be having trouble hiding her relief that Draco was alive... but Lucius was sure there was more to it than that, and he _would _ be asking her later.

"I am loathe to bring this up now, Lucius." Severus said, sounding genuinely pained by his own words, "However, if you do accept the Headmaster's... generous offer-" oh, the sarcasm could melt steel, and that was one of the reasons they had been friends at school, in spite of the fact that Lucius was four years older than Severus. "-you do understand the consequences."

"Yes." Lucius gave him a dark look. Deep down, he was somewhat sadistically amused by Severus' dilemma, though he knew better than to show it, given the situation. Nobody knew where Severus' true loyalties truly lay, but he had needed, for many years now, to at least offer the illusion to both sides. "Do you suppose he is likely to curse the messenger, if we do defy him?"

"Very much so, I think." Severus said, entirely too tense.

"Then I suggest Crabbe or Goyle break the news." Lucius said, affecting a bitterness in his tone that he didn't really feel. Normally, this sort of suggestion would be his idea of a cruel joke. "You have _many _ sub-standard papers to grade, no doubt, and couldn't possibly have had the time to meet with us."

Severus raised an eyebrow at this, but then averted his eyes in obvious discomfort. Clearly he thought the situation deserved a more sombre approach. Lucius had used sadism and satire as a defence mechanism in the past, but Severus had always preferred outright psychological abuse. "I do appreciate your concern." he said bitterly.

"You should leave." Lucius said, turning his attention back to staring at thin air, about a foot to the left of the bed on which Draco lay. "It wouldn't do for you to know about our decision before everyone else, would it?"

"You are aware, I'm sure, that this was not the Dark Lord's fault?"

"Of course." Lucius hissed through gritted teeth, "But I do believe my life, not to mention Narcissa's, depended upon his orders. Orders which my son is no longer able to fulfil."

Severus didn't answer that. Simply sighed, and then swept out of the room. Making significantly more noise than usual, his footsteps heavier and the door slamming a bit harder than necessary. Severus was usually the stealthy one, but that... was as close to an all-out temper tantrum as Lucius had ever seen him.

x x x

"So, Harry..."

"No." Harry said determinedly, turning to face Jack, drawing his wand defensively, and backing away a couple of steps, "Whatever you're after, Jack. No."

"But-"

"Look, I made the potion because Slughorn gave Harper and me extra credit." Harry said quickly, "But I _have _ heard the rumour about you and Malfoy, and-"

"Who the hell started that, anyway?" Jack demanded, "You'd think they'd have a bit more respect for the dead."

"I heard it from Parvati." Harry admitted, shrugging slightly, before becoming defensive again, "But whatever evil scheme you're angling for, I'm not going to help!"

Jack rolled his eyes, "Harry... Parvati Patil speaks in two languages. Fashion Magazine, and Fictional Gossip. I'd think after last year you'd know better than to believe every rumour my house starts."

"Pansy Parkinson's calling you 'Kiss of Death'." Harry said a bit derisively, one eyebrow raised as if daring Jack to deny it.

Jack did not answer right away. In fact, he looked furious... and kind of hurt. "Bitch." he muttered so softly under his breath that Harry barely heard it. But then he shook his head, "Look, that is entirely irrelevant. I did not kill Draco Malfoy... and I'm kind of surprised you'd be offended if I had."

"I didn't wish him dead!" Harry snapped, "I just... wanted someone to catch him before he did something evil and Death-Eater-y."

"Look, I need you to do something for me." Jack said.

"Here we go." Harry rolled his eyes.

"I need you to restart the D.A."

Harry blinked, "Huh? Why?"

"Because I need somewhere secret... somewhere safe." Jack explained, "And it would really be of great benefit to the whole anti-Voldemort cause."

"Secret?" Harry repeated, "But that was just because of Umbridge."

"Well, Hogwarts is clearly not perfectly safe, if cursed jewellery and poisoned mead can get in, is it?"

Harry blinked a few times, "And you think the D.A. would be safe?"

"I think it would be beneficial. I already know that room can become completely impervious to anyone the user doesn't want to find it. I just think the... human element would help."

"You really are up to something evil, aren't you?" Harry asked coldly.

"Yes. Kind of." Jack shrugged, "Depends how you define evil."

Harry snorted, "Right. Look, the Minister of bloody Magic said he wanted to see me after classes today, but I'll try to get the D.A. together by next week, alright?"

"Wow." Jack took a step back, "You really have grown up, haven't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, feeling almost indignant at this statement.

"You're organised... you're in control. You're not the scared kid I met in the Triwizard Tournament anymore, you really do know what you're doing."

"So...?"

Jack blinked, "Nothing. Just took me by surprise, that's all." he smiled faintly, "Authority looks good on you."

Before Harry could react to that, Jack just turned and walked off, leaving him to wonder exactly what he meant by it.

The more he thought about the way Jack had said those things, the more like Sirius he had sounded. He had seemed like a proud parent, or other older relative... rather than the usual conclusion people tended to jump to where Jack was concerned.

x x x

Harry did arrange the D.A. meeting, as Jack had asked, though he did get there a few minutes late.

He was greeted by the sound of Ianto Jones cheerfully telling the rest of them, "Hufflepuff are loving this... the two best teams in the school have lost to them this year. Sure, they don't show it, because they're too decent to celebrate something they won because of a death- however much they disliked Malfoy- but they're still loving it."

Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott were both trying very hard not to look guilty, which lent a lot of credibility to this sentiment.

"Actually, according to the league tables." Cho Chang put in, "Unless Gryffindor get one hundred and ninety points, or Ravenclaw get two hundred and twenty points, in the final match, Hufflepuff have already won."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the Quidditch fanatics of the group, which was only dispelled by Ron's announcement of, "Yeah, well either way, Slytherin lose!"

Jack- who was standing right next to Ianto in a perfectly boyfriend-like way that made any of the rumours the Slytherin girls had been putting about seem utterly absurd- laughed, "Yeah, I think I'm going to defect again."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Jack... you had a reason for the D.A. to get back together?" he asked.

"Yes, I did." Jack agreed, nodding.

Suddenly a second door, which Harry had not noticed before, opened. The entire D.A. were already present and accounted for and they all knew it. So at this unexpected arrival they all turned their wands on the door instantly. Excellent reactions. Harry was honestly proud.

It took him a minute to realise who this was, because it sure looked like Draco Malfoy.

Then he realised it _was _ Malfoy.

Polyjuice potion required the person you were impersonating to still be alive. There was no way to make an illusion of a person this perfect without Polyjuice. And he wasn't transparent, so not a ghost either.

"What the-?" Ron asked, shocked.

"Jack told me to quote some Muggle line that I'm betting only Granger would get, so I won't do it. But basically I faked my death."

"Let me guess." Hermione offered, shooting a sideways glance at Jack, "'Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated'?"

"It's one of my favourites." Jack admitted flatly, "But you misquoted."

Hermione looked horrified at this, and Jack simply smirked.

A few Ravenclaws exchanged confused looks, and it was Luna who nodded sagely and agreed, "Yes, it does seem like only Hermione recognised it."

While Hermione was too busy being indignant about dead American novelists, the rest of the D.A. was wisely more concerned with the fact that Draco Malfoy was standing in their midst. Very much alive.

"How'd he survive, anyway?" Ernie demanded, "We all saw him get hit by a Bludger."

"Never underestimate Ianto Jones. That's all I'm bloody saying." Owen answered, causing the rest of the D.A. to start whispering excitedly.

"You faked his death?" Cho asked Ianto, who nodded. "Why?"

"Because _someone _ was going to really kill me, if they didn't." Malfoy answered coldly.

"They?" Ron demanded.

"It was a team effort." Jack said with a smirk.

"I had nothing to do with the Bludger, mate." Owen defended, "That part scared the fuck outta me."

"Language!" Tosh snapped at him. Owen actually managed to look a bit sheepish at this.

"Who was going to kill you?" Harry asked, deciding someone needed to take control of this situation _away _ from Malfoy. As the centre of attention- and one who adored the spotlight- Malfoy looked like he was enjoying himself way too much.

"Who do you think?" Malfoy sneered.

Harry shook his head slowly, not sure how to answer.

"Voldemort." Jack said, causing half the room to flinch or cringe in some way.

"But..." Harry started.

"But he's a Death Eater!" Ron shouted over him, "Why'd You-Know-Who want to kill one of his own?"

"It was a punishment." Malfoy answered darkly, "My father... 'disappointed' him, at the Department of Mysteries. So he decided forcing me to attempt an impossible task, with the threat of death if I failed, was the best way to put us in our place, and then have a legitimate excuse for some random acts of violence when I fail at the end of the year."

"Fucking sick." Owen muttered, earning himself a smack upside the head each from Tosh and Gwen.

"So it seems..." Malfoy said, ignoring Owen, and carefully taking a step closer to Harry, hands held out to show he was unarmed, "We have a mutual enemy."

Harry glowered at Malfoy for several seconds, "How much do you know about the Death Eaters?"

"I lived at their base of operations all summer." Malfoy answered, taking another step closer. "I know names, crimes, even a few plans. If you want information to fight against the Dark Lord... I can help you there."

Not even Ron dared snipe, now, in spite of Malfoy's deliberate choice of words. The entire room was deathly silent. All waiting to see how Harry reacted to this offer.

Last time Malfoy had said those words, on the Hogwarts Express before they had even been Sorted, the offer itself had felt like an insult. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry wondered what would have happened if he had taken it at face value instead. Would they still have been enemies, if it turned out now, years later, that they needed to become allies?

Harry held out his hand to Malfoy, who smiled. Somewhere between genuine and bitter... like he was thinking exactly the same thing as Harry.

And Malfoy shook his hand.

It was as if the entire room let out a collective breath it had been holding. People started talking again, Hermione dragged a silently fuming Ron away and started hissing urgently in his ear. Gwen and Tosh actually high-fived, like this was some kind of long-term plan those five had been cooking up for months.

Harry wouldn't doubt it for a second. He had learned not to put anything past Jack Harkness and his friends.

Malfoy snorted with a weak kind of laughter, "Took you long enough, Potter."

"We can work together. We still don't have to like each other." Harry retorted coldly.

Malfoy shrugged, "Fine by me."

x x x


	87. The Weakest Link

x x x

**Chapter 87: The Weakest Link**

x x x

"It's called consolidation." Jack said flatly, "And yes, I do think it's a good idea."

"But they're Slytherins!" Ron Weasley protested for the dozenth time.

"Thanks, don't think we'd have noticed that without your brilliant insight, Weasley." Thadius Vance sniped darkly.

Ron all-but growled at him.

After the first D.A. meeting this year had revolved almost entirely around Draco Malfoy, the second had gone quite smoothly. Now, however, their third meeting had been interrupted by a number of unwanted guests. Slytherins, to be specific. Nine of them.

Except they had been invited. By Jack.

He had been entirely too polite in introducing them all. Theodore Nott, Millicent Bullstrode, Thadius Vance, Derrin Harper, Malcolm Radford, Zoe Alderton, Alexander Smith, Tracey Davis, and Astoria Greengrass.

Ron didn't trust a single bloody one of them.

Harry, on the other hand, was taking it surprisingly well. "This was your plan, all along, wasn't it?"

"You know what they call it when you exclude a group of people for something they have no control over?" Gwen asked, taking the damn Slytherins' side.

"In this case it's justified!" Ron snapped, "You can't trust a Slytherin!"

"What house was Peter Pettigrew in?" Jack asked, too innocently.

Ron hesitated, "What? Er- Gryffindor."

"Barty Crouch Junior?" Jack continued calmly.

"I dunno!" Ron protested.

"Hufflepuff, Ron." Hermione said coolly.

"Rita Skeeter?" Jack offered, "She may not be a Death Eater, but I think we can agree that she is pure evil." The nods and murmurs of agreement were pretty well justified, even Ron would have to admit.

"Ravenclaw." Hermione answered again.

"What house was Rufus Scrimgeour in?" Jack asked now.

"Slytherin." Harry answered.

"What?" Ron yelped, "He was?"

"Yes." Harry said, calmly turning to stare at Ron, "He told me so, last week."

Ianto spoke up now, "Who's your favourite Quidditch player, Ron?"

"Er- Joey Jenkins. He's Beater for the Chudley Cannons."

"Guess what house he was in." Ianto said, smirking entirely too smugly.

"No bloody way!" Ron protested, horrified.

Derrin Harper snorted, "Why else d'you sodding think he makes all those illegal head shots? He's not really incompetent. He's _famous for being _ incompetent, and he damned well knows it. His career was built on being a running gag, and he's the highest paid member of the bloody team because he always draws the crowds. Would you go to a Cannons game if Jumped-Up Joey wasn't playing?"

Ron sulked a bit, and didn't answer.

"'Course you flacking wouldn't!"

Was it Ron's imagination, or did the other Harper grin just a bit too broadly at that?

"They do make a good point, Ron." Harry said, frowning, "If they're all serious about it, then I say let them join."

"What if one of them rats on us, huh?" Ron demanded.

"I've spent the better part of my spare time this year hanging out with them." Jack said calmly, "Although I do define spare time as not including extra-curricular projects I personally deem important, so I did have a lot less of it than you'd think, but that's not the point. I've only brought nine people, out of twenty-six that I originally invited to my anti-Slug-Club."

Bullstrode and Greengrass both giggled at the name. It was still a fair sight better than 'Slug Club', in Ron's opinion, and all.

"These are the ones I think we can trust." Jack explained with emphasis. He smirked, "Besides, I came in here before any of you, and made sure the room only allowed people who wanted a world without Voldemort to enter."

The Slytherins there all looked at each other, mostly amused, a few still scared of the name, but in general they seemed to be re-evaluating their housemates based on this new information. Like even _they _ had expected at least one junior Death Eater among the lot of them.

Ron continued to scowl at them, "I don't like this, but I didn't like Malfoy joining either." he grumbled, looking to Harry.

"If you trust them, Jack..." Harry said carefully, "I'm willing to give them the chance to prove themselves."

x x x

The very next day, a buzzing of conversation began in the hushed corners of the Slytherin common room.

Voldemort was seriously pissed off.

He had given orders to Crabbe and Goyle, through their parents. Somehow he had found out that Draco Malfoy was still alive, and they were to find and eliminate him. They both seemed reluctant to either murder someone on school grounds in case they got caught, or to disobey orders in case worse happened, hence they had asked Pansy for advice.

Pansy had offered to do the killing for them, and was now working on it.

Meanwhile, a few other Slytherin girls had overheard and spread the word. It quickly spread out to the Great Hall, and eventually even the D.A. heard the news.

Draco had literally been living in the Room of Requirement since his supposed death, and only the D.A. and his parents had known that he was still alive. He was minding his own business. In fact, at Tosh's insistence, he had continued to do his school work, which was brought to him by Nott, who took all the same classes that he did. Aside from having to endure the presence of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs for a couple of hours a week, he had rather enjoyed the calm and solitude.

He needed it, after the stress of the year so far.

But then the entire population of the ludicrously named 'Dumbledore's Army' piled into the room uninvited.

"Do you mind?" he sneered when one of the Hufflepuffs nearly kicked him as they all shoved into the room. But then he realised they were all yelling at each other. Something bad had happened. Something very bad.

"_ALRIGHT, EVERYBODY, QUIET!_" Potter yelled, with a Sonorus charm for good measure. Everybody immediately shut up, much to Draco's relief. Potter dispelled the charm, and spoke at a reasonable volume, but in a tone of authority that brooked no argument, "We all know what happened, the point is we need to find out how."

"It was one of them!" Ron Weasley snarled, pointing at the group of Slytherins, who had clustered together almost as soon as they had entered the room.

Draco stood slowly, glaring daggers at Weasley, "What, exactly, are you throwing wild accusations about, now, Weasley?" He only just restrained himself from using an insulting nickname, but he did still manage to infuse the real name with as much venom as humanly possible.

"Voldemort found out you're not as dead as he'd like." Jack answered, feigning calm and casual. He was good at it, but Draco could see the anger- and behind that, genuine concern- in his eyes. "The day after our housemates found out about it... either they're very fast, or someone's trying to frame them."

Draco slowly turned to stare at his fellow Slytherins.

Alderton might be from an old line on her mother's side, but her father was a Mudblood and she was about as openly pro-Muggle as you got in Slytherin house (unless your name was Jack Harkness). It was no secret that Radford fancied her, and shared her political views, in spite of the fact he was a proper pureblood.

He couldn't say anything for certain about the other three girls, except that Bullstrode _loathed _ Pansy, and neither Davis nor Greengrass seemed to pay the least bit of attention to the world outside fashion.

Harper was pureblood and proud of it, but had been heard calling the Dark Lord as many foul names as he called Mudbloods. Draco was sure, having met his Gryffindor counterpart, that this was a hereditary trait.

Vance was infamous, and there was no way the real Death Eaters would have let him get close enough to pass information, if he'd tried.

Smith was a quiet one, and you never could tell with the quiet ones. Then again, when they were dangerous they tended to have their own agenda, rather than serving someone else's.

Nott's father was a Death Eater, but last summer he had told Draco about his Squib-little-sister. He doubted the cause of blood-purity was one that Nott particularly cared for after that.

"No, I don't see it, Jack. You picked them too well for that." he said finally.

"You're not seriously telling me you trust this lot with your life, are you?" Weasley demanded.

"No, but I have some fairly serious doubts that if any of them wanted me dead, the Dark Lord would be their weapon of choice."

Vance snorted at that one. Greengrass giggled rather cutely, while the others either smirked or rolled their eyes. "No flacking kidding!" Derrin Harper crowed.

"Oh, you are a funny one." Luna Lovegood murmured mistily, smiling faintly.

"Is everyone here?" Tosh asked, looking around the room.

Suddenly the sound of bolts locking echoed, and Draco looked to see that the doors had sealed themselves off. "What the-?" Potter asked, staring at the door incredulously.

Jack stepped into the middle of the room, facing Harry, "If nobody outside this room knew that Draco was alive- except his parents, and I'm willing to bet they value his life more than that- then the traitor is here somewhere. Whichever house you think they're in."

"Right, so what do we do, break out the Veritaserum?" Terry Boot- one of the Ravenclaws- asked derisively.

"Yeah, sure, why not." Owen Harper sniped back, "Just give me a month or so to brew it and we're all set."

"Nobody is leaving this room until we find out who did it." Jack said coldly, "The room is perfectly capable of sustaining us all for a lifetime. So until someone comes clean, we're missing classes. We're missing Quidditch, school clubs, letters from our families. The summer holidays, if necessary."

"You can't do that!" Padma Patil shrieked in horror.

"Oh yes I can." Jack said, smirking darkly, "And I will, too."

"Jack, this is a bit extreme, don't you think?" Gwen asked, gently placing a hand on his arm, as if she thought it would help him see reason.

He looked at her carefully, "I don't think you'd be saying that if you were in Draco's position."

Ianto snorted, and Jack shot him a very amused 'shut up' kind of look.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Look, I'm all for extreme measures to find out who did this, but I think the Veritaserum's a much better idea, since it wouldn't involve me sharing living space with a bunch of people who really kind of hate me."

Jack raised an eyebrow sceptically, "It takes a month."

"And we have a comprehensive list of suspects." Draco pointed out, "If any one of them suddenly disappears, we'll know exactly why."

"No. You're not going to reason with me." Jack said, folding his arms petulantly, "I know this method works. I have done it before."

"It's true." Tosh admitted, "He did lock all five of us in, once, to find out who put fish-food in his hand-in-a-jar."

"I did it." Owen shrugged, "And I'd do it again, I tell you!" he crowed, like a bloody loon. It was clearly meant to be a joke of some kind. Most of the Mudbloods in the room did laugh.

Draco rolled his eyes, "This is a bit more serious than- wait, why did you have a hand in a jar?"

Jack chuckled darkly, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"I think I'd rather not, actually." Draco sneered. Knowing Jack... yes, definitely better not asking.

"Alright." Owen cracked his knuckled, "I'm going to start singing..."

Everyone turned to stare at him in horror.

And he followed through on this threat, as well. He started singing.

Draco didn't recognise the song, but he did recognise that Owen Bloody Harper was singing it completely out of key. It was almost painful. And it didn't stop, he kept going back and singing the same lines over and over again.

Draco tried to tune it out and look away, and most of the other students did the same.

"I may have underestimated Gryffindors." he conceded to Jack, "Your friend is evil."

x x x

Four hours had passed, and Owen Bloody Harper had not got bored yet.

The room had conjured up sleeping bags and pillows, and some people had said pillows over their heads to try to block out the noise. Tosh was the only person in the room unbothered by it, and when she confessed to using what Muggles called a 'CD player', she then offered to share it with Draco for a few minutes... then Jack... then Gwen... then Ianto... then even Potter.

"Thought you hated Muggle things?" Potter asked him, once Tosh reclaimed her music-making technology.

"Muggle things..." Draco held up one hand, palm upwards as if holding or weighing an object. "Owen Harper." He held up the other hand in the same way. Then raised the first hand and dropped the second to the ground.

Potter snorted, "It could be worse. I don't think anyone here knows the Cruciatus curse."

Draco just gave him a 'you're kidding, right?' look.

"You know it, don't you?" Potter said flatly. Draco nodded. Potter shrugged, "I've still had worse nights."

"You're starting to sound as bad as Jack." Draco snorted derisively.

"I was talking about the night Voldemort used my blood in a spell to bring him back from the dead, and then cast the Cruciatus curse on me four times in a row."

Draco stared blankly at that for a minute. "Y'know what, I'm starting to enjoy this song."

x x x

Two more hours passed.

"How much longer is he going to torture us?" Ginny cried, a pillow firmly over each ear, yet still she could hear Owen Bloody Harper singing 'Dance Like A Hippogriff' completely off-key. She wondered how much longer he even _could _ keep going. "If he keeps it up, he'll ruin all my favourite songs!"

"Relax, Ginny." Gwen reassured, "He's never heard a thing by Celestina Warbeck.

Ginny slumped and feigned sobbing. She hated Celestina Warbeck. Everybody thought she liked that mouldy old cow, but it was her _mum _ that liked those corny old songs, not her!

It could be worse, she would grant it that. Snape's potions classes had been worse... but they had also been shorter.

She had been through longer, more traumatic deals, too. Her entire first year had been a hundred times worse than Owen Harper singing... but it still made her want to suffocate him with a pillow. Or force-feed the pillow to him... whole.

"I'm sorry!" a boy whimpered from across the room, "I'm so sorry, please make him stop!"

It was Michael Corner.

Ginny stared incredulously, even as Owen failed to stop singing.

"Why should I?" Jack asked, demonstrating for the dozenth that he felt he had total authority over his closest friends.

"I did it. I'm sorry. Please." Michael begged.

Jack looked over at Owen, who stopped immediately. "Eh, good thing too. I was running out of songs that weren't rap."

Every single Muggle-born shuddered in horror.

"Owen. Please go away now." Gwen said in a too-gentle tone of false calm that made it quite perfectly clear she wanted to rip out his eyes and tongue with her bare hands.

Everyone was watching Michael, now, though.

Harry, Jack and Malfoy had all come over to stand around him, and he kind of looked small and terrified. Ginny might have pitied him, if she didn't despise traitors so much.

"Why did you do it?" Harry asked.

"I- Death Eaters attacked my family over the Easter holidays. They called dad a blood traitor. Wanted to make an example of us." Michael admitted, shaking a bit. "I- I told them I knew about Malfoy, so they'd let us go."

"And did they?" Malfoy asked sceptically. Michael nodded. Well, obviously. He was here, wasn't it? "And you really think your family is safe, now?" Malfoy sneering, "I am surprised."

Harry gave Malfoy a dark look, but then shook his head, "You know, this isn't really that big a deal, since you kind of had to stay in here if you wanted to pretend to still be dead, anyway. The only problem was we had to find out who betrayed us."

"So you're... not going to punish him?" Malfoy asked sceptically.

"He's out of the D.A." Harry answered, "But I'm not going to go around hurting people just because Voldemort threatened their families."

"So now all the Death Eaters' allies will know to use that excuse if they ever do anything against you." Malfoy grumbled.

Harry did actually seem to think about it for a minute, then turned around and walked across the room to Jack's friends. "Owen."

"Oh god no!" Ginny cried, feigning horror.

"I do want some Veritaserum anyway." Harry said, falsely cheerful, "Just in case Malfoy's right."

"Better paranoid than dead." Owen agreed, "I'm sure we'll have some by the end of the year, especially if you loan me that book."

"Book?" Malfoy and Ginny asked together. They exchanged a dark look, but then both turned back to Harry, expectantly.

But it was Jack who answered, "It's... probably better if you don't ask."

Now _that _ was worrying.

x x x

Since Torchwood had as good as claimed the Chamber of Secrets as their temporary base, with Harry Potter as good as an honorary member of the team, they had been using it quite often, during term.

The top-secret side of Tosh's tech research had moved down here. Owen brewed his Polyjuice and Draught of Living Death- among other things- down here. Ianto had taken to spending a lot of time alone with Salazar Slytherin's old notes, probably because he wanted to maintain his claim to knowing everything.

All of this had been done quite deliberately to leave the D.A. room otherwise free for, well, the D.A.

Now Gwen, Owen, Jack and Tosh were gathered in one of the many small side-rooms of the Chamber of Secrets laboratory, which they had discovered over the last few months.

"I have no idea what this thing is, Jack." Tosh said, eyeing the diadem warily, "It passes the Torchwood One standard tests for grade three intelligence- self-preservation instinct, word-recognition, and political allegiances-"

"Since when did that last one count as a sign of intelligence?" Owen interrupted.

Tosh half-scowled at him, while trying not to laugh at the joke in spite of herself. Then she decided to just continue as if he hadn't spoken, "And for all I know it could rank higher. It's not like it has any recognisable way of communicating with us."

"No mouth, like the Sorting Hat." Gwen added idly.

"Now there's an idea." Jack said, reaching for the diadem.

Tosh snatched it out of his reach, before he could even try it, "No, Jack, you are not putting an unidentified dangerous magical object on your head!"

"Says the girl who put an unidentified dangerous alien object round her neck." he retorted, making another grab for the diadem.

If anything, this remark redoubled her determination, and she managed to dodge out of his reach, "This isn't a game, Jack!" she insisted, "We have no idea what it could do to you! And that necklace was entirely different, she already proved it was safe before giving it to me! You're just jealous because for a little while there I was getting some and you weren't!"

"So your little alien ex-con girlfriend teaching you to rape your friends' minds, that was just a game, was it?" he snarled.

"Jack! Stop it!" Gwen snapped at him, "Lay off her!"

"You stay out of this!" he snapped at her, "You have no idea what you're talking about, Gwen, you never do, you selfish-" But then he stopped very suddenly.

What the _hell?_

He almost called her a Mudblood. Specifically 'Mudblood bitch'. He had come within a hair's breadth of using a racist and derogatory term he hadn't even known about four years ago, against one of his closest friends. And he had verbally assaulted Tosh- the one member of the team he would honestly have used the word 'innocent' to describe. And she had given as good as she got.

This was not right. Why was he so angry?

He suddenly realised just how ridiculous this argument had become far too quickly, and consciously unclenched his fists, taking a step back from both girls. "Put it down, Tosh." he said, trying to sound calm and kind. It didn't quite come out that way, though.

She hesitated, glancing at the diadem clutched tightly in her hands, then back up to him, "I... yes." she dropped it onto the table in the middle of the room, and stared resentfully at it. "Sorry."

"Anyone else here ever watch Lord of the Rings?" Owen asked, repeating a sentiment he had voiced earlier in the year.

In a whole other context, but if the irony fits.

"I almost called it Precious, when I first found it." Jack said, trying to pass it off as a joke, "And I think we can safely assume it doesn't like us very much."

"No shit, Sherlock." Owen muttered under his breath. Out of the four of them present, Owen had been the only one not to join in the argument. If anything, he seemed by far the most rational of them all, right now. "I say we burn it."

"Without finding out what it actually is, first?" Tosh protested.

"It's trouble. That not enough?" Owen asked her.

"I hate to say this... but Owen's right." Gwen agreed, "I've never felt so angry, before."

"We do need to learn what it is." Jack said carefully, "I'll speak to the Baron about it. In the meantime, we lock it away. Nobody is to go near it. No experiments, no touching, don't even look at it."

"Just to be paranoid." Owen snorted.

Jack snorted, smirking faintly, "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't out to get you, Owen."

x x x


	88. Wind Beneath My Wings

x x x

**Chapter 88: Wind Beneath My Wings  
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x x x

Unfortunately, the Bloody Baron had, for reasons best known to himself, been suspiciously absent ever since Jack decided to go and speak with him.

It was getting quite frustrating. And after about a week of nothing productive- save regular classes and lessons, which had become so routine as to be entirely boring- Jack was disturbed late in the evening, about an hour before curfew, in the middle of one of his attempts to stalk the Baron, by a beeping of his commlink.

"Jack..." Ianto said warily. It was a secure channel, just the two of them. "Come down to the Chamber of Secrets. Alone."

"Why?"

"Just come down here. Please."

Jack shrugged and made his way out to the marker by the lake. He used his wrist strap to play back the hissing sound that was the password. He teleported down into the plinth room, to find Ianto standing in the middle of the open room in something of a state of shock. Obviously, he only come down here because Ianto had called him... but he really had not expected to find what he saw now.

Ianto had _wings_.

Real honest-to-god big feathery wings, growing out of his back. The plumage was mostly white and grey, shading smoothly down from pure white at the wing bones to a relatively stark line of almost black at the tips. Shiny and sleek, more like a water bird than the typical images of winged humanoids. Jack thought it was quite beautiful, really.

The way he held them was odd, too. One wing was curled back, while the other was stretched out and forwards, as if Ianto himself had been examining it... and he continued to stare with silent awe at this new appendage until Jack cleared his throat pointedly.

Then he looked up, startled, and the wings both curled back as if by instinct. "Uh... hi, Jack."

"Well... this isn't what I expected..." Jack said warily, watching the wings far more than Ianto himself, "How'd you do it?"

"Ah... partial Animagus transformation." Ianto said, slowly unfurling both wings, to give Jack a better look. The span of each wing was about one and a half times his height, and they really were quite impressive to look at. Jack only just resisted the instinct to step forward and stroke the feathers. "I was trying to do the whole thing, but it sort of got stuck, and now I can't turn back."

"So... your Animagus is some kind of bird?" Jack asked, stepping forward but just about managing to keep his hands to himself as he eyed the wings. Ianto was far too shaken about this to be all that likely to react well to sexual insinuations about sentient avian life-forms.

"Albatross." Ianto said bluntly, glancing over his shoulder, "I'm guessing sooty albatross, by the colouring."

"McGonagall's gonna pitch a fit." Jack chuckled. Oh, he just couldn't resist, and reached a hand out towards Ianto's left wing, "May I?"

The wings shifted, almost like if he was really a bird he'd be ruffling feathers indignantly... but then, "Yeah, I guess."

When he lightly stroked the sleek feathers, the wing arched a little, into his touch. "What's it feel like?" Jack asked, slightly awed, and if he was honest with himself- which he was really trying not to be right now- a bit aroused.

"Kind of feels like you're touching my back, where the wings grew out of. Except I can see you're not... and the feathers... I- I don't know." He met Jack's eyes with a slightly shaky and rather self-depreciating smile, "This is so weird."

Jack grinned, "Can you fly, like this?"

"Doubt it." Ianto said, frowning slightly, "Birds can only fly because their bones are hollow, they weigh far less than mammals of the same size. Might be able to glide if I'm very _very _ lucky, but the sheer force required to lift a human from a standing point... wings this size would never be able to-"

Jack cut him off quickly, "Okay, I get it, Yan." he sighed, and ran his fingers over the feathers one last time, before turning to fully face Ianto himself, "Have you any idea why the spell failed?"

"I need more practice with wandless Transfiguration. I should have started out smaller." Ianto groaned, "Oh god, you're right. McGonagall's gonna kill me."

"It could have been worse. Least you got a nice animal." Jack said, grinning conspiratorially, "I hear Rita Skeeter can turn into a beetle... and I can't help wondering why she'd want to."

Ianto choked with laughter, "You've got a point there, I guess."

"Kind of look angelic, really..." Jack said softly, leaning that little bit closer, to kiss Ianto.

But then...

"Alright, enough of that." a sharp voice called out from nearby.

Both boys were immediately on alert, drawing wands and turning to face the source of the unfamiliar voice. Ianto's wings arched up behind him like a bird of prey preparing to attack.

"Really, what you do when I'm not spying on you is your own business, but I'd rather not witness this little display of ornithophilia, however sweet it may seem."

"Well, someone had to say that word." Ianto conceded, shooting a dark glance at Jack as if he had been expecting it from him.

The stranger stepped out of the shadows, but that revealed very little, as they were wearing a dark hooded robe. Whoever they were, they were sporting a rather typical old-movie-villain goatee, and a distinctly masculine voice. This wasn't one hundred percent conclusive, in Jack's opinion of gender... but still, for now he would consider the stranger male.

"Who are you?" Jack asked carefully.

"A friend." the man said, smiling faintly, "And one who can help your aspiring Animagus out of his current predicament, if you so desire."

"Who said we wanted to fix it right away?" Jack asked smirking. Almost leering, actually... so many things he could think of to do to someone with wings, and finally he had the chance.

"I'd rather learn to be able to do it at will, than be stuck this way." Ianto pointed out sharply, "Or worse, not find out what I did wrong." Jack conceded to this logic, and reluctantly reigned in all wing-related fetishes for the time being.

"Well then I can certainly help." the stranger said in a surprisingly gentle tone, "It always did unsettle me, the trend of modern education to flow with the weakest student, and leave the best to wait. I would have begun training in any advanced subject from first year, for those who were willing to put in the extra effort to learn. Full Animagism in fourth year students has happened as recently as twenty years ago, I see no reason not to aid one who aspires so determinedly to rise above the rest."

As he spoke he slowly walked towards them. Closer and closer, until he was only a few feet away. Though he seemed to sense the invisible line not to cross before Jack's defensive instinct would have kicked in, and stopped just short of it.

"Who are you?" Jack repeated, this time with warning in his tone.

The stranger lowered the hood of his robe to reveal a man who looked no older than twenty himself. His hair was shiny black, and tied back. His face was pale and thin, but he looked in perfect health. Rather handsome, if equally eerie. Something about him screamed both wrong and heart-wrenchingly familiar to Jack's mind.

"_What _ are you?" Jack felt himself asking without ever even thinking the words.

"No less human than you." the man said calmly, with a hint of a smirk that told Jack there was far more than just human in him. "Avian Animagism is a much trickier talent than mammalian." he said, calmly turning to Ianto, as if Jack's question was entirely irrelevant. "Consider yourself lucky you weren't one of the rarer aquatic or insectoid Animagi, as they are far more difficult to master. Entirely too many limbs, or a total transformation of the very concept of mobility. Or even both, in some cases."

"You mean... the wings make it harder?" Ianto asked, frowning.

"The wings are by far the most difficult part of the process you shall face." the man answered, nodding, "But it is not the growing of the wings. That part, as I'm sure you are aware, is relatively simple. The problem comes with learning to use them. You see, any old quadruped is easy enough for a human to comprehend, as we evolved from much the same relatively recently in the grand scheme of things. Entirely new appendages, however, are far more complex to control for one whose mind is not designed for the task."

"You sound like you speak from experience." Jack said warily.

"Indeed I do." the man said, smiling mysteriously for a moment... before transforming in a flash of fire. When the flames dissipated, the man was replaced by a brilliant golden-red bird, hovering in the air before them. The most beautiful bird either of them had ever seen, its feathers shimmering as if on fire.

"A phoenix!" Ianto gasped, shocked and taking a step back, "I didn't think that was possible."

The bird bowed its head and in a flash it was human again. The man stood before them looking immensely smug. "One cannot become a magical creature through Animagism, unless one shares the trait which makes that creature unique. It is possible to become a dragon Animagus by undergoing a long and arduous process of alchemically transforming the body to allow the caster to breath fire. It is possible for those with Gorgon ancestry to have an affinity for basilisk Animagism, though Gorgon-blood is all but extinct in this age."

"And a phoenix?" Ianto asked.

"You'd need to be able to Regenerate." Jack said sharply.

The man merely smiled at that statement. "A word I tend to avoid using. The last man who did so warned me off my research, quite... vehemently."

Jack grinned darkly at that, "I'll bet he did."

"You're Salazar Slytherin." Ianto said quietly, "Aren't you?"

"And people these days deride the intelligence of Lady Helga's house." the man snorted, smirking, "Yes, I am indeed Salazar Slytherin. In the flesh."

"You don't look a thing like you're statue." Ianto pointed out, glancing in the direction of the atrium that led to the sewers below the castle.

Salazar nodded to Jack, "You understand, don't you?"

"Regeneration changes your face." Jack said bluntly, shifting from one foot to the other defensively. He really didn't feel at all comfortable with this situation. Jack's experience of people capable of Regenerating was rather limited. To two individuals, specifically... one an angel, the other a demon. He had no expectations of anything short of either extreme... and the rumours about Salazar Slytherin were not exactly flattering of his morals.

"Correct." Salazar said, watching Jack just as carefully, "It's difficult to tell with phoenixes, as most birds do tend to look similar to a human eye, but every death and fiery rebirth bears a new face upon an old mind."

"Who did you meet?" Jack asked softly.

"The one who warned me off my research?" Salazar asked, before shrugging lightly, "He never did give me a name, I'm afraid. Does it matter?"

"Only to me, apparently." Jack muttered.

Ianto frowned, glancing from one to the other, "Uh... hate to break up this wonderfully informative discussion. Really. But I still have wings, and I'd like to neither have to explain them when I get back to the castle, nor miss curfew, if that's alright with you two?"

x x x

It only took a wave of Salazar's hand to remove the wings from Ianto's back... but over the course of the next few weeks, they returned to the Chamber of Secrets, and both studied the art of Animagism from the old master of the subject. It turned out, to both their surprise, that Salazar was an excellent teacher. All the rumours about him being a hateful old git that made Snape look cuddly by comparison were pure and utter rubbish.

Really, when they thought about it, the team- the whole team- came to the agreement that a man who became a legend for founding a school _had _ to have been a good teacher. It was just common sense.

Ianto progressed far faster than Jack, who could barely even achieve the basic steps required before attempting the transformations, while it only took a few weeks before Ianto could conjure and dismiss the wings at will. Entirely wandlessly, which did lead to alternate lessons from Salazar, on the subject of wandless magic in general.

As they had both heard many times of magic in general, it was all about willpower. Want something to happen badly enough- and 'badly enough' usually meant triggering the fight-or-flight reflex- and if it's within your body's magical power to influence, it will happen.

This inevitably led to Jack making jokes about taking 'fight-or-flight' literally, when it came to Ianto's Animagism. Ianto did not appreciate these jokes, though Salazar seemed to take some quiet amusement in their bickering.

On the day when Ianto finally learned the complete Animagus transformation, just less than a month after their first meeting, Jack finally asked the question that had been gnawing at him all this time, "Voldemort." he said bluntly, "Tell me you've heard of him."

The bird Ianto had become glided down from where he had been practicing flying, and rather clumsily landed next to Jack. He had been going a bit too fast, and almost went face-first into the floor... almost. Shifting back to human form, Ianto shook his head, and hastily moved from kneeling- the landing had been _that _ bad- to sitting by Jack, waiting attentively for an answer to this question as well.

"Of course I have heard of him." Salazar sneered in disgust, "He is living proof against his own prejudice. Evidence of just how far the great bloodlines can fall."

"Well you're not vain at all, are you?" Ianto sniped, grinning.

"I've said it every day since we met." Salazar said casually, "And I shall say it again. You should have been in my house."

"So why haven't you tried to stop him?" Jack asked bluntly.

"Because I don't exist, and I like it that way." Salazar said bluntly, "As the phoenix, on the other hand..."

Jack and Ianto both looked at each other, and suddenly the pieces seemed to fit, "You're Fawkes!" Ianto announced.

"Dumbledore's pet." Jack said, smirking.

"The first headmaster in over a century worthy of my direct aid, and even he does not believe the bird a _pet_."

"So the basilisk...?" Jack asked, frowning, "It was your pet, wasn't it?"

"More of a science project, really." Salazar answered, "By its nature, it tended to prefer larger prey than I could safely provide, so when someone came along offering it the opportunity to kill humans, I could no longer control it." he frowned, "I do regret its loss, but I believe I did the right thing in helping Harry Potter to put the beast down."

"What? You couldn't do it on your own?" Ianto asked indignantly, "You had to drag a twelve-year-old kid into it?"

"He was hardly dragged." Salazar retorted, "And as a matter of fact, I could not kill it myself. Very few things can kill a basilisk, and I had access to none of them. While I did bring him the means to call it, the sword he used could only be summoned by a worthy student of Gryffindor."

x x x

It seemed like a fairly ordinary night, to Harry. Exams were over and done with. He had finally persuaded Hermione to leave him alone about the Half-Blood Prince's potions book, by offering to bring up her House Elf rights campaign next time he was at the Ministry.

But just now, one of the Beaters on his Quidditch team had given him a note from Dumbledore.

"And people wonder why the Slytherins started those rumours." Ginny muttered, teasing, "He's sending you love-notes!"

"Shut up!" Harry protested, laughing all the same, "It's just extra Defence lessons."

Ginny read over his shoulder and then protested, "Right now? But I just got back from charms club!"

Harry was honestly happy that Ginny wanted to spend time with him. He certainly wanted to spend every spare moment with her. Still, these lessons had been very important, and they usually gave more warning than this. It must be urgent. Maybe Dumbledore had found one of the Horcruxes? Either way, he was sure he shouldn't just leave it. "I'll be back before you know it, Ginny. Promise."

"You better." she all but ordered, "Or our headmaster won't know what hit him."

"Bet it'll be a bat-bogey." Ron put in snidely. He was still a bit sulky about his sister dating his best friend, but Harry was fairly sure this was in no small part because Ron himself was still single after dumping Lavender.

"I'll bat-bogey you, in a minute." she taunted right back.

Harry left them to it, knowing full well that if Hermione didn't break it up, they could both take care of themselves just fine in a curse-fight, and it wasn't as if either of them would be aiming to do any real damage. To each other, at least... the common room was an entirely different matter.

He hurried up to the gargoyle statue, pausing just outside to compose himself, before saying the password and jogging lightly up the stairs. He was eager to see what Dumbledore wanted. Whether it _was _ a Horcrux, or just new information, it was all valuable to their goals.

When he opened the door to the office itself he saw Dumbledore standing, staring distantly out the window. A long black travelling cloak held over one arm.

He didn't turn to look at Harry when he spoke, "Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me."

So it _was _ a Horcrux, then.

The sense of relief at no longer being kept in the dark and treated like a child who couldn't fight for himself was almost overwhelming. He barely stopped himself from grinning at the thought. Too morbid, really- they were talking about going out and hunting an evil artefact that held a piece of his worst enemy's soul, this wasn't supposed to be a game.

Didn't stop the thrill of excitement running through him at the idea.

"Right now?" Harry asked, mimicking Ginny's earlier concern. He had promised her he wouldn't be long.

"Only if you wish to, of course."

"Of course I do!" Harry said quickly, "So you've found one, then? You've found a Horcrux?"

"I believe so."

Harry half laughed, a bit nervous but still eager. "So which one is it? Where is it?"

Even as he spoke, he gave a slight flick of his wrist and a wordless summoning spell- it was Ianto who had shown him how to hide his wand up his sleeve so it looked like you were casting wandlessly, also so you didn't need to be good at a quick-draw- and he knew his own travelling cloak was zooming through the castle on its way to him.

"I am not sure which it is- though I think we can rule out the snake- but I believe it to be hidden in a cave on the coast many miles from here. A cave I have been trying to locate for a very long time. The cave in which Tom Riddle once terrorised two children from his orphanage on their annual trip, you remember?"

"Yes." Harry said, nodding quickly, "How is it protected?"

"I do not know. I have suspicions that may be entirely wrong." The way Dumbledore hesitated now made Harry feel a bit sick. Dumbledore didn't do nervous, yet he was obviously wary now. "Harry, I promised you that you could come with me, and I stand by that promise, but it would be very wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous."

"I know." Harry said with a sharp nod. "I want to go."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I take you with me on one condition: that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question."

Harry blinked once. Pointedly averting his eyes so that the Legilimens wouldn't see as he mentally cursed Jack seven different ways. Then he shook his head, "Depends on the orders."

"Harry, this is a serious matter." Dumbledore said urgently, "If you come with me, I must know. If I tell you to run, hide, go back. Will you?"

"Yes." Harry answered immediately.

"If I tell you to hide, you will do so?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to flee, you will obey?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to leave me, and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?" Harry met his gaze again. The eerie glittering of his eyes was strangely absent... he was deadly serious.

It took a moment for him to think it over. To realistically conceive of a situation in which that order would even be given, let alone obeyed. Eventually, however, he reluctantly conceded, "Yes."

At that moment, the door blew open as if by a breeze, and Harry's cloak soared in and landed on his arm like a well-trained owl. Dumbledore, for his part, looked entirely unsurprised.

"Ready when you are, sir." Harry said, trying not to look too smug about it.

x x x


	89. Cold Blood

x x x

**Chapter 89: Cold Blood**

x x x

Jack was summoned to the headmaster's office, early on the evening after the last day of exams.

Mark Avery spent the ten minutes after Jack left the dungeons making snide remarks about this, which eventually led to Ianto literally cursing his mouth off.

Nobody was especially bothered by this in the common room, because firstly, Ianto was just a snake in badger's clothing, and secondly, they all disliked Avery on one level or another. Even his fellow Junior Death Eaters had reason to laugh and applaud when he was suddenly both temporarily disfigured _and _ unable to speak.

When Jack returned, he looked kind of shaken, and immediately ordered, "Ianto. Outside. Now."

"Oooh, what did you do, Jones?" Pansy crowed bitterly.

"You might want to be more worried about what I'm going to do, Pansy." Ianto sniped back, "I know a dozen different ways to kill a person without magic or poison, and I might feel like practicing later."

"And I thought my last conversation was disturbing..." Jack muttered, as Ianto walked past him and out of the common room, before he followed.

"She started it." Ianto replied coldly, keeping step with Jack as he led the way far more quickly than necessary, up to the entrance hall.

"You're bitter."

"I was down in the Chamber, earlier. I blame your jewellery."

Jack stopped just before they reached the giant double-doors that led out of the castle, "To be fair, it's not mine."

"We need to get rid of it, Jack."

"I couldn't agree more. I've just found out what it is."

Ianto stared at this, "And?"

"You know that book Tosh bought me from Knockturn Alley?" Jack asked, pushing the door open, "The part that had me laughing for a week, and threatening to introduce the Slytherins to Dungeons and Dragons?"

"Yes..."

"It's that."

"Bugger!"

"Maybe later." Jack offered, with completely false cheer. The rest of their walk to the lake was silent, and cold.

Finally, Jack stopped by the plinth that led them down to the chamber, "And Dumbledore was very helpful. Told me exactly how do destroy it, and everything."

"Yeah?"

"Not intentionally. I didn't tell him I had it." Jack shrugged, and tapped the button on his Vortex Manipulator that played back the hissed password. In a flash they were down in the Chamber of Secrets. As soon as they walked into the room that held the diadem, Ianto got that familiar, ominous feeling of being watched.

"It makes me feel terrible, down here." he said softly, "Since you got that thing."

"You didn't seem too bothered when we were learning Animagism."

"That was in the other room. This... it feels like it's reaching out to me... trying to get into my head." He tilted his head slightly, and shot Jack a sidelong glance, "Like it's telling me I'm a monster just like it."

"Just don't listen to it." Jack said bitterly, "I've been told worse this evening."

"Like?" Ianto asked, surprised.

"My meeting with the headmaster was... very informative." Jack picked up the box containing the diadem, and carefully unlocked it. Lifting open the lid, he shivered visibly, before lightly running his fingertips over the cold metal. Ianto had never touched the thing, but even from his safe distance of a few feet away, it radiated cold. "There are only five ways to destroy one of these things. Only two that don't ruin the object they've defiled."

"Yes?"

Jack looked up, smiling bitterly, "Dumbledore said... Basilisk venom, Nundu Blood, Fiendfyre, Avada Kedavra, or a Dementor's Kiss."

"We have a dead Basilisk, just over there." Ianto pointed behind him, out in the direction of the sewer entrance, "All of the others would be hell to do."

"Not really." Jack looked back down at the diadem, now, "I've read up on the Unforgivable curses. You just have to really want to murder the victim in cold blood. Righteous anger doesn't work... but that won't be a problem."

"Jack..."

Jack snorted bitterly, "I wasn't always a good person, Ianto. I've told you that before, and honestly, sometimes I doubt I'm a good person even now." He drew his wand, aiming it at the diadem, "The killing curse doesn't leave a mark."

"You're that desperate to keep the diadem intact?" Ianto asked sceptically.

"I made a promise." He took a deep breath, wand still pointed at the diadem, then closed his eyes and smiled coldly. It was downright scary to see Jack like this. Honestly hateful and cold. And when he did utter the words, "Avada Kedavra." it was soft, quiet, said almost lovingly.

The flash of acid green light illuminated the entire room, an echoing sound like rushing wind, and then it was over. The room began to feel warmer... the awful creeping feeling in the back of Ianto's mind, like he'd forgotten something terrible, the chill on his skin like heavy rain on a cold night... it all faded away like a bad dream.

Jack just stared at the diadem for a moment longer, before laughing almost nervously, "Easier than I expected. From what I read, these things are supposed to defend themselves."

Silence fell for a moment... then finally Ianto worked up the will to speak, "You implied there was more to your conversation with Dumbledore than just this?"

"Yeah... I just..." Jack shook his head, covering his face with one hand as he did so. He tried to laugh again, but it still sounded hollow. "Wanted to use my frustration for that bit of justifiable homicide, before you had the chance to try to calm my down."

"What did he say that was so bad?" Ianto asked warily.

"You mean aside from the fact that Voldemort has made _six _ of these cursed things, he expects Harry Potter- a sixteen-year-old!- to be able to help hunt them down and destroy them, and oh yeah, he used to have an unrequited crush on the second most heinous human being of the nineteen forties?"

"Second?"

"Grindelwald."

"Right." Ianto rolled his eyes. If you heard the rest of the wizarding world tell the story, either Hitler was a pawn, or they had outright never heard of the Muggle tyrant of that time. Somehow, he wasn't that surprised about Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Jack had insinuated his opinion of the headmaster's sexuality often enough, and he and Grindelwald were about the same age.

Jack snorted, "He told me just what a manipulative bastard he really is."

"Oh?" Ianto asked, "I thought we already knew."

Jack looked at him coldly, a deep-seated bitterness in that distant stare, "A while ago, Harry asked him to tell either Ron, Hermione, or myself, if there was anything he needed to know but couldn't be told. I'm the only one he decided to tell this lovely detail to, because he thinks- rightly so, knowing Weasley- that either of the other two would just go straight to Harry with the information."

"But not you?"

"He made an educated guess, based on my house and the brief glimpse he got of my mind over a year ago, that I could keep a secret."

"And...?"

"And of course, I'm going to tell you everything, because you're even better than me about it."

Ianto chuckled darkly at that. His best example of keeping terrible things secret had been Lisa... and they all knew how that had gone. Still, Jack trusted him with his immortality, and he wasn't about to break a habit of a lifetime by going and telling people anything they neither needed to know nor had asked for.

Jack sighed, slumping against the nearest wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. He looked pained and lost. "Harry has to die."

"What?" Ianto yelped, shocked. He was sure he had misheard that.

Jack looked up at him, still bitter, "That thing-" he pointed to the diadem, "They call it a Horcrux. Voldemort made six of them... deliberately. And one accidentally."

"How do you tear your soul apart _accidentally?_" Ianto sniped. Yes, he had 'borrowed' the book Tosh had bought for Jack. Jack might not even had known about said borrowing until now, he was never really sure how much Jack actually knew without letting on.

"I asked the same thing." Jack said, "Apparently it works in three steps. One step is a series of long, complex incantations and rituals to prepare the object you want to defile- this can be done before or after the second step... which is simple cold-blooded murder. The third step is to guide the fragment of soul into the object."

Ianto moved a little closer, kneeling next to Jack, listening intently.

"The only way Dumbledore theorised that this could have happened was that Voldemort prepared the rituals beforehand, cast the killing curse at Harry. The curse rebounded, and Voldemort died. The fragment of his soul was successfully torn away from him, but with no guidance it went for the nearest living thing."

"Which was Harry." Ianto realised, stunned.

Jack nodded slowly, "And the only way for Voldemort to die is if all his Horcruxes are destroyed first. Including Harry."

"And Dumbledore knew all along?"

Jack nodded once more, slower this time. After a moment, he snorted, still bitter, "It's a stupid spell, really. In theory, it could be done against the murderer's will."

"What?" Ianto asked blankly.

"If one person set up the rituals beforehand, tricked another into committing the murder in the right place at the right time... then the first person could still finish the spell without the killer being any the wiser. Dumbledore did say you wouldn't even feel any different with just one... although on Voldemort, it kind of shows."

Ianto stared at him, "Why would anyone do that?" he asked, before recognising a more relevant question and adding, "What made you think this?"

Jack shook his head, "Just logic. I wonder if anyone else in this backwards community has ever heard of the concept."

"Well, perhaps there's a _logical _ way to deal with the situation, without letting someone we care about die?"

Jack gave him an oddly evaluating look for that. Was he surprised that Ianto cared about Harry? Surprised at the suggestion of applying logic to magic? Or just trying to figure out how already?

Finally, when Jack didn't speak, Ianto put a hand on his shoulder gently, "We'll figure something out. It's what we do, right?"

Jack snorted bitterly, "Right."

x x x

Harry wore the invisibility cloak over his regular cloak. Concealment, _and _ a resistance to freezing to death in a cave... though other forms of death in a cave were still quite probable.

Dumbledore led him quickly down to the Hog's Head, explaining that nobody would be particularly surprised that he came down here, making it the perfect cover and excuse for leaving school grounds. Harry himself, naturally, not even being seen to leave.

From there, they Apparated to a precarious ledge on a cliff face, by the ocean.

"What do you think?" Dumbledore asked perfectly calm and polite, as if he was asking some trivial question about the weather.

"They brought the kids from the orphanage here?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Not here, precisely. There is a village of sorts about halfway along the cliffs behind us." Dumbledore answered, "I believe the orphans were taken there for a little sea air and a view of the waves. No, I think it was only ever Tom Riddle and his youthful victims who visited this spot. No Muggle could reach this rock unless they were uncommonly good mountaineers, and boats cannot approach the cliffs, the waters around them are too dangerous. I imagine that Riddle climbed down; magic would have served better than ropes. And he brought two small children with him, probably for the pleasure of terrorising them. I think the journey alone would have done it, don't you?"

Harry looked up at the cliff face above them, "I've seen worse." he said flatly.

Admittedly, that had been after he came to Hogwarts. The hidden passage beneath the third floor corridor. The Chamber of Secrets. The Shrieking Shack and the werewolf. The graveyard. And that cliff face would probably have been enough to give him nightmares when he was younger, too.

Not now, though. His nightmares now made this look like a walk in the park.

If Dumbledore noticed his line of thought, he pretended not to. "But Riddle's final destination- and ours- lies a little further on." He beckoned Harry to follow, and prepared to climb down the treacherous rock they stood on.

"Wait." Harry said quickly, crouching down at the edge, "Where, exactly, are we going?"

Dumbledore gave him an odd look, but then gestured across the water, casting a magical light to illuminate a crack between the rock faces. The entrance to the cave, Harry realised. And the ocean water went right on into the cave, no safe place to stand.

It wasn't that he minded the idea of getting wet, but... if there was another way.

Harry nodded, and waved his hand, wand still up his sleeve, thinking 'Leviosa'. A small pebble flew up from in front of him, and down to that spot, landing exactly where he wanted it to, in the water in front of the cave. "It's safe to levitate, isn't it?" he asked.

Dumbledore was still watching him, now with fascination, "It would appear so."

Harry pointed his wand at the entrance to the cave, and cast a freezing charm. It took a few seconds for the magic to reach that far, but then the water turned to ice, leaving a solid platform to stand on.

Then he stood up again, and this time far more carefully cast the levitation charm... on Dumbledore. It worked, exactly as it always had when he had practiced it in the D.A., and in nearly no time at all, Dumbledore was standing on the icy ledge in front of the cave, looking somewhat amused.

A second later, and Harry found his own feet leaving the ground as Dumbledore mimicked the spell to lift him down to the ledge.

"An excellent idea, Harry." he said approvingly, "And I must say, I do approve of your caution, as well." he added.

Harry looked back at the roiling waves and jagged rocks behind them, and thought about that for a second. Yeah, not testing first could have been bad... but he honestly wasn't sure where he picked up the 'look before you leap' mentality. It certainly hadn't been from anyone in Gryffindor house.

But now Dumbledore's attention was firmly on the cave ahead of them. He cast the Lumos charm, and led the way inside. It took a few more uses of the freezing charm to be able to walk all the way in without having to swim, but eventually they reached what appeared to be steps out of the water, and solid rock beneath their feet.

It might have been cold outside, but in here it felt downright unnaturally so.

Harry watched as Dumbledore looked around the cave, turning on the spot and eyeing the walls intently, wand held high as it scanning the area around him. "Yes, this is the place."

"Is that why it's so cold?" Harry asked warily.

Dumbledore spared him a glance, before nodding slightly, "Indeed." He then resumed his search of the cave.

Whatever he was looking for wasn't something the eye could see, otherwise Harry was sure they both would have noticed it by now.

"This is merely the antechamber, the entrance hall. We need to penetrate the inner place. Now it is Lord Voldemort's obstacles that stand in our way, rather than those nature made."

Harry stood back and watched, as Dumbledore began not only scanning the walls with his wand, but now touching them with his cursed and blackened hand as well. He wished he knew how that worked. Being able to sense magic would be so useful.

Then, as Dumbledore's hand brushed over a particular piece of stone, Harry felt a sharp chill through his scar. "There." he said suddenly.

Dumbledore looked at him, but it was not with approval, but rather caution and... pity? "You believe so?"

Harry nodded.

Another revealing spell from Dumbledore, and the wall began to glow, revealing an archway as if lit from behind through cracks in the stone. "It would seem you are correct, Harry. May I ask how you recognised it so readily?"

"My scar." Harry answered bluntly.

"Ah, I thought as much."

And just like that, Dumbledore's attention was back on the wall, as if he was somehow reading the magic there. Harry waited, more impatient with the fact he didn't know what exactly was going on, rather than the fact it was taking so long.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Dumbledore spoke rather derisively, "Oh, surely not. So crude."

"What is it, Professor?"

"I rather think... that we are required to make payment to pass." Harry did _not _ like the way those words were accompanied by the sudden appearance of a small silver dagger in Dumbledore's hand.

"What kind of payment?" Harry asked warily.

"Blood, if I am not much mistaken."

"You're right. That's crude." Harry said, somewhere between disgusted and defensive.

The look on Dumbledore's face was more of disdain, as if he had thought better of Voldemort's standards. "The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered, is that your enemy must weaken him- or her- self to enter. Once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury."

"Yeah, but still, if you can avoid it..."

"Sometimes, however, it is unavoidable." Dumbledore said, calmly pulling back the sleeve of his injured arm.

"Does it have to be human?" Harry asked suddenly. What if they used some kind of animal blood like there were tons of in the potions labs at Hogwarts? Or... like catch a seagull or something?

Dumbledore gave him a bemused look for that, "I'm afraid so. The incantation was quite specific."

Harry rolled his eyes, disgusted with Voldemort for daring to prevent loopholes like that. "Then let me do it." He wasn't entirely sure why, but the thought of someone else hurting themselves when he could do himself instead... it was just unacceptable.

But Dumbledore simply smiled, ignored the offer, and cut into his wrist. A deep cut across the wrist, and the blood all but flew up onto the wall. "You are very kind, Harry... but your blood is worth more than mine. Ah, that seems to have done the trick, doesn't it?" With a wave of his wand, the wound healed almost instantly, and Harry began to wonder what on Earth was the point of that?

"Pretty pointless, if you ask me." Harry muttered, watching as the wall faded away, disappearing into thin air, leaving a neat and perfect archway.

"How so?"

"A blood sacrificed, designed to 'weaken the victim'... which only took a few drops and could be healed in the blink of an eye?" he asked sceptically.

"You may have a point there." Dumbledore said with a faint smile. A brief pause, then, "After me, I think."

It was unnaturally dark beyond the archway. Oppressively so, in a way that made the wand-light barely reach far enough for them to see their own feet. Still, they were able to see, from the distant greenish glow, that they were standing on the edge of a still black lake... and that greenish light from coming from what Harry would guess was the very middle of it.

Dumbledore beckoned him to follow, "Let us walk. Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me."

Harry followed close behind him around the edge of the lake, keeping close to the wall. He glanced down at the water warily. It was so still it looked like black glass, and felt like it absorbed all the sound around them.

Unnaturally dark. Unnaturally silent.

Well Voldemort sure knew how to play to the basic human fears. Nothing was quite so creepy as a _lack _ of senses.

"Let me guess..." he said, scowling, "It's in the middle of the lake?"

"That would seem most likely." Dumbledore agreed, "The question is, how do we get to it?"

"I suppose a summoning charm is too easy?" Harry asked.

"You could certainly try."

Harry shrugged, "As long as it couldn't hurt...?" Dumbledore didn't answer that, making Harry quite sure that while he was confident enough that they should at least try it, he could not confirm that it was completely safe. Harry didn't let that bother him- he had known this would be dangerous, after all- and waving his wand, "Accio Horcrux!"

A cracking crashing sound echoed through the cave as something broke the surface of the water. Something pale and sinister, but too far away to make out. It leapt high up out of the water and dived back down again, like some unholy perversion of a dolphin. Harry did not get a good enough look to confirm what it actually was... only that it definitely _wasn't _ a dolphin. It just jumped like one.

Harry jumped back in shock at the sight of it, backing right up into the harsh stone wall.

Once it disappeared beneath the water, the ripples smoothed out far faster than was natural, leaving no evidence that it had ever been there.

"That can't be good." Harry muttered, glancing up at Dumbledore, "What was it?"

"Something, I think, that is ready to respond should we attempt to seize the Horcrux."

Harry made a deliberate effort to try to calm down, but his heart was still racing from the shock, "Did you think that would happen?"

"I thought something would happen if we made an obvious attempt to get our hands on the Horcrux. A Summoning Charm was by far the simplest way of finding out what we are facing."

"Because... it attacked the charm instead of us, right?"

"Precisely."

"But we still don't know what that thing was."

"What those things are, you mean." Dumbledore corrected, glancing briefly at the unnaturally still water, "I doubt very much that there is only one of them. Shall we walk on?"

"What if we tried to freeze the lake? Trap them down there?"

Dumbledore looked like he was thinking about it for a moment. Harry was sure it wouldn't be that easy, though, and it seemed Dumbledore agreed, "I doubt very much that this water would react in the predictable way."

Harry nodded slowly. As far as he was concerned, the monsters and magic in it made it not-water, really. Rather think of it as liquid death, considering the circumstances.

They continued further around the edge of the lake, and as they reached what felt like the far side from where they had entered- though Harry really couldn't tell for certain, only that it felt like it curved around about that much at a guess- Dumbledore stopped suddenly.

Harry stopped right behind him, "Have you found something?"

"I do believe so, Harry." Dumbledore reached out and his hand grasped around something invisible. A tap of his wand and a revealing spell, and the invisible thing turned out to be an old thick, almost ghostly green chain running from his hand down into the water. A second tap and the chain started to pull through his hand, dragging something up from the depths as it went.

Harry tensed, holding his own wand tightly, just in case. Anything that came out of that water was likely Very Bad. Better safe than sorry, right?

A moment later, it turned out to be nothing more than a boat. Matching the chain in every way, particularly the unsettling green glow. It floated with barely a ripple on the black not-water of the lake, and came to rest right in front of them.

"How did you know that was there?" Harry asked. He hadn't seen anything until Dumbledore had made the chain appear, and he really wished he could spot these things for himself.

"Magic always leaves traces." Dumbledore answered, infuriatingly vague as usual. "Sometimes very distinctive traces. I taught Tom Riddle. I know his style."

Harry eyed the boat sceptically. It looked like it was made for ghosts, rather than living people. "Is this boat safe?"

"Oh yes, I think so." Dumbledore said with a confidence Harry wished he could feel. "Voldemort needed to create a means to cross the lake without attracting the wrath of those creatures he had placed within it, in case he ever wanted to visit or remove his Horcrux."

"Why?" Harry asked, frowning, "I mean, if it's so perfectly protected even he couldn't get to it himself, wouldn't that be better than leaving loopholes?" Dumbledore gave him a questioning look, and Harry added by way of explanation, "If I was him, I'd bury it in concrete under a major building site, or something."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Ah, but Voldemort has pride, and a need to control. He would want to be able to check on it for himself."

"Well, you know what they say about pride." Harry muttered, trying not to smirk too much. If what Dumbledore said was true, then this would be a lot easier than it could have been. Sure, it would still be ridiculously dangerous, but at least it would be _possible_. "So the things in the water won't do anything to us if we cross in Voldemort's boat?"

"I think we must resign ourselves to the fact that they will, at some point, realize we are not Lord Voldemort. Thus far, however, we have done well. They have allowed us to raise the boat."

"But why have they let us?"

"Voldemort would have been reasonably confident that none but a very great wizard would have been able to find the boat." Dumbledore said, "I think he would have been prepared to risk what was, to his mind, the most unlikely possibility that somebody else would find it, knowing that he had set other obstacles ahead that only he would be able to penetrate. We shall see whether he was right."

It seemed like they were prepared to take an awfully big risk trusting Voldemort's ego to be that great. Then again, Voldemort's ego could theoretically be photographed from space, so it was probably a relatively safe bet. Still, he eyed the boat sceptically, "It doesn't look like it was built for two people. Will it hold both of us? Will we be too heavy together?"

Dumbledore shook his head, chuckling, "Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it."

"But then-?"

"I do not think you will count, Harry. You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place. I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine."

"He never expected a one-year-old to beat him, either." Harry muttered, "What if he came back and changed it since? Besides, he wasn't even Hogwarts age when he found this place before."

Dumbledore sighed slightly, "The enchantment on the boat specifically counts only adult wizards Harry."

So he _did _ know. It was better to hear that than to be given vague allusions to an imaginary psychological advantage.

"Still seems too easy." Harry muttered, eyeing the boat once more.

"Voldemort's mistake, Harry, Voldemort's mistake. Age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth." He gestured to the boat, "Now, you first this time, and be careful not to touch the water."

Well, he knew it was going to be dangerous. Fine, then.

Harry climbed into the boat and edged right up to the prow, allowing room for Dumbledore to sit behind him. The instant Dumbledore had settled, the boat began to move on its own, gliding quickly across the black glass-like surface, towards the green glow in the centre of the lake.

x x x


	90. Liquid Nightmares

x x x

**Chapter 90: Liquid Nightmares**

x x x

Jack had been sleeping comfortably in his own bed in the Slytherin dorms, when suddenly he found himself lying on a cold floor in a well-lit room.

"Damn it, Harkness! Ever heard of pyjamas?" Draco Malfoy's voice demanded irritably.

A second later, and Jack was fully clothed, very much against his will. So naturally, he assumed this was the Room of Requirement, then.

He picked himself up, glancing down to see these were actually his own clothes, "So you _do _ know how to use this room, then?" he asked Draco, with a bit of a smirk.

Draco rolled his eyes, "I summoned you here for a _reason_."

"Oh yeah?" Jack smirked, eyeing Draco up suggestively.

"Not that." Draco dismissed, "I've got a girlfriend now... and that's your fault, too, by the way."

"How so?"

"You invited her to Potter's little vigilante group."

"Who? Millicent? Tracy?"

"Astoria."

"Bit young for you, isn't she?"

"She's older than you!"

"Looks can be deceiving." Jack waved dismissively, "So why did you feel the need to interrupt my beauty-sleep?"

"The Dark Lord is here."

Jack almost literally jumped at that, "_Here?_"

"Well... very close. Somewhere near the grounds."

"How can you tell?"

"I felt the Dark Mark burn twice tonight. Someone summoned him- ordinary Death Eaters can't tell where those summons come from, but we do feel them- and then he summoned the rest of his inner circle, from somewhere within a mile of here." Draco began to pace irritably, "If he's here..."

"That means he thinks there's an advantage to be had _right now_."

Draco frowned, looking around at him, "Not what I was going to say... but a good point."

"Ianto." Jack's hand had moved up to his ear, and he was quite eternally thankful that he slept with the commlink in.

"Yes?" Ianto answered promptly.

"Don't suppose you could check the perimeter of the castle grounds for me?"

"In the middle of the bloody night? I'll freeze my tail-feathers off!"

"I'll kiss them better."

"I do _not _ want to know what he just said, do I?" Draco muttered.

"Why do you want me to do this, Jack?" Ianto asked balefully, "Give me a good reason and I will."

"Draco says Voldemort's nearby."

"Funny coincidence... a little bird tells me Dumbledore left the castle about an hour ago."

Jack stared at thin air, "Well, there's the reason for the timing." he said to Draco, "Dumbledore's gone."

"He's been disappearing all year. Why now?" Draco asked, scowling.

"Ianto, could you look? Just... stay inside the shielding spells."

"Of course." Ianto answered, before cutting the commlink.

"And what do we do, if he _is _ here?" Draco asked bitterly. He sounded like he fully expected to be told he had to fight.

"As long as the spells around the school hold, I'm not sure what he hopes to accomplish." Jack admitted, shrugging, "Can never be too paranoid, though. I'm going to warn people."

"By 'people', do you mean those children that call themselves 'Dumbledore's Army', or, you know, competent adults?"

"Why not both?" Jack asked, smirking, "I've seen less competent adults than Dennis Creevey... and that is saying something."

"True. I have met Cornelius Fudge." Draco agreed, "What about me?"

"Just stay here. If I think you can help in a way nobody else in the entire building can... I'll send for you."

Draco _really _ sulked at that. So calling him a coward, when he obviously _was _ being one, seemed to be just the way to get him to seriously think about helping for the hell of it. Good to know.

x x x

Within fifteen minutes, all the teachers (minus Snape), and the D.A. (minus Ianto) were gathered in the entrance hall of the school.

"What's going on?" Ginny demanded.

"Voldemort's here." Jack answered for what felt like the dozenth time.

He hadn't managed to get everyone now present out of their beds without giving a good explanation first, so most of the teachers had already elicited the full details... with the exception of _how _ he knew, of course. The D.A. had kind of gone and rounded each other up, though, he had only to run down to the Slytherin and Hufflepuff dorms to get the students from those houses, while Tosh, Owen and Gwen had roused those in their respective houses.

But now the bird that was Ianto's Animagus form soared in through an upper window and swept down towards the ground. Pulling up just before landing, he changed back into his human form right in front of everyone, landing neatly on his feet in the middle of the transformation.

"Shut up, Owen." he said, pointing a warning finger at Owen, before anyone could speak. He then quickly added, "Sorry, Professor McGonagall." and finally he turned to Jack, "You were right. There's about twenty of them out there. Including Voldemort, Fenrir Greyback, the entire Lestrange family, and Antonin Dolohov."

Whispers burst out among the students, not all of them about the current predicament. Suddenly finding out that your classmate can turn into a bird is probably pretty gossip-worthy to the people who indulge in that particular vice. McGonagall looked like she couldn't decide between pride and fury at Ianto's behaviour.

Everyone seemed to know the reputation of the Lestranges and Greyback. Only Harry, Ron, Hermione, Gwen, Owen, Tosh and Ianto knew just what Dolohov had done to earn specific mention. He was the one who had killed Jack in the Department of Mysteries. And Harry wasn't here.

"Where's Harry?" Jack asked, as he realised this.

The Gryffindor students all looked around at each other, and finally Ginny answered, "He got a note to go to Dumbledore's office. We haven't seen him since."

"What do we do now?" Ron asked, looking around for someone to give them direction.

"If we're really lucky, absolutely nothing." Jack said, glancing at the teachers.

"Yes, exactly." Flitwick agreed, "The castle's defences were designed to withstand a great deal of punishment."

"While we understand your desire to help, Harkness." McGonagall said coldly, "It would be wise for you all to return to your dormitories, for your own protection."

There was a tense silence as the determined students stared off against the group of teachers. Finally, it was Susan Bones of Hufflepuff who asked, "You really believe any one of us is going to listen to that advice?"

"We're not leaving." Thadius Vance agreed quite vehemently.

"We have the advantage of numbers, and we've had extra training beyond our school work." Cho Chang insisted.

"Voldemort better _hope _ he can't break in here." Owen crowed, "Or we'll kick his bony old behind!"

Professors McGonagall and Sinistra both fought back the urge to laugh at this. Sprout outright chuckled. "Well, they seem determined, eh?" Slughorn conceded.

"If it comes to a fight, you will at least stay behind us." McGonagall commanded.

"And wear these." Ginny added, holding up a pile of mundane-looking berets.

"Huh?" Owen peered at them.

"Fred and George's new shield hats." Ron mumbled, "Work like the headless ones, except the spell gets the whole body."

"Do they come in red?" Jack asked.

x x x

Harry watched the too-smooth not-water warily, and felt his heart jump into his throat when he saw something drift just below the surface. It looked like a _hand_.

"Professor..." he said nervously.

"Harry?"

"I think I saw a hand in the water... a human hand."

"Yes, I am sure you did." Dumbledore replied far too calmly.

Harry briefly wondered what would happen if he vomited in the sinister lake. He felt like he might just need to. "So that thing that jumped out of the water-?" But then he saw another one. A whole, blatantly dead, body, floating just below the surface. "What are they?"

They couldn't _just _ be bodies. Dead bodies _don't jump_.

Dumbledore hesitated, before answering, "I believe they are Inferi. Magically animate corpses. However, we do not need to worry about them at the moment."

"At the moment." Harry said flatly, "You mean they'll attack once we take the Horcrux?"

"I expect so." Dumbledore agreed, "However, like many creatures that dwell in cold and darkness, they fear light and warmth, which we shall therefore call to our aid should the need arise."

"Fire, right?" If it doesn't bleed, it'll burn. That was what Owen often said about dangerous magical things. And Neville's extra-credit Herbology projects, which generally _weren't _ dangerous, but Owen acted like they were.

"Exactly."

A minute later, the boat came to a gentle stop, nudging into a small crop of rock from which the green light originated.

"Careful not to touch the water." Dumbledore reminded him, as he climbed carefully out of the boat. The green glow was coming from a pedestal in the centre of the island. As they approached it, Harry realised it held a basin of some kind of rich emerald green liquid. It _looked _ poisonous.

He frowned deeply at the liquid, half-expecting it to move... maybe leap out of the basin at them.

But instead of asking what it was, he waited, watching as Dumbledore examined it. Giving the older wizard time to think and figure it out. Harry had no clue what it was, or why it was there, but he was beginning to get the sinking sensation that the Horcrux was _in _ that green liquid.

Finally, Dumbledore turned to him, and explained, "This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature. I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk."

Harry immediately scoffed, "It's obviously poisoned!"

Dumbledore looked back at the potion, and nodded, "That is the likely conclusion, yes. Though I doubt it would be immediately fatal."

"This is Voldemort we're talking about." Harry pointed out flatly.

"Lord Voldemort would want to keep whomever reached this island alive long enough to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through his defences." Dumbledore explained, far too calmly given the situation, "And, most importantly of all, why they were so intent upon emptying the basin. Do not forget that Lord Voldemort believes that he alone knows about his Horcruxes."

"There has to be another way, besides _drinking poison_." Harry insisted.

"Alas, Harry." Dumbledore said sadly, "It is not always the case that we are offered a third option."

Third? Well, Harry supposed walking away and letting Voldemort live- and therefore win- did count, but that wasn't a _valid _ option.

"There has to be something." Harry looked around, frowning. Unfortunately nothing came to mind.

"I am afraid, Harry, that only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths." Dumbledore continued, "Undoubtedly, this potion must act in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux. It might paralyze me, cause me to forget what I am here for, create so much pain I am distracted, or render me incapable in some other way. This being the case, Harry, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?"

"It won't kill you immediately?" Harry asked, for reassurance. If it had to be done, and damn but he wished it didn't, he wasn't going to be the one to walk away and hand Voldemort the wizarding world on a silver platter. "We could still get you to the hospital wing, right?"

"I think I would rather, Professor Snape. He has a much more extensive knowledge of poisons than Poppy."

Harry shrugged, not wanting to agree to that even though he wouldn't doubt it for a second.

"Yes, Harry. I am quite certain that it will not kill me instantly."

Quite certain. Not really close enough, but what choice did they have? Harry nodded slowly, "Alright then."

Dumbledore gave him an oddly evaluating look, "You will ensure that I continue to drink the potion?"

"I don't like it, but we don't have much choice." Harry said bitterly.

And now he saw approval in the old man's eyes. It wasn't for his readiness to obey... but for his understanding of what must be done, in spite of his disdain for the situation he had found himself in.

He watched resentfully as Dumbledore conjured a crystal goblet, filled it from the otherwise impenetrable basin of poison, toasted to Harry's good health, then drained the goblet in one go. Harry winced in anticipation.

It wasn't clear just how badly he was affected, but Dumbledore did seem to waver, even as he filled and drank a second goblet of the vile green liquid. And a third. Harry was just beginning to think Dumbledore might be able to handle it without his help, when suddenly he stumbled.

Some of the green liquid spilled out of the goblet as he fell to his knees, and Harry saw the basin refil a little... it looked like- and Harry hoped that- it was only by the amount spilled and not extra as punishment. Harry grit his teeth and picked up the goblet. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to hurt anyone let alone the man who had helped and taught him so much.

He resented Dumbledore for making him have to do this.

He filled the goblet up from the basin and knelt next to where Dumbledore was now sitting on the ground. He looked terrified. "Drink this, Professor." he said firmly. Trying to make it sound like an order.

"I don't want... Don't make me..."

"The sooner this is over, the sooner you'll get better. Drink it." Harry insisted, trying not to think about it too much.

Dumbledore took the goblet and drained it quickly.

Harry stood up and refilled it again. This time the refusal was more vehement, but repeating the same argument worked.

"Make it stop, make it stop."

"It'll stop when the potion's all gone." Harry insisted. Once more, Dumbledore reacted as if being promised this potion was the cure rather than the cause, seizing the goblet and draining it immediately. And then he screamed.

Harry cringed, horrified.

"It's all my fault, all my fault," Dumbledore whimpered, as if in agony. "Please make it stop, I know I did wrong, oh please make it stop and I'll never, never again..."

A part of Harry's mind wanted to know _what _ 'never again', but he was far too concerned at the moment with getting this nightmare over and done with as quickly as possible, so he kept on reassuring him that the sooner he drank this despicable potion the sooner it would all be over.

It was the truth, after all. That was probably why it felt so cruel.

Finally, the goblet scraped the bottom of the basin, and Harry saw a gleam of silver there. He was able to reach in and snatch up the object, full goblet still in his other hand. He glanced at the potion sceptically, "Yeah... right." He dumped it back into the basin, seeing no reason for it to actually be drunk now that they had what they came for, and turned to see Dumbledore still crying in pain on the ground.

He quickly pocketed the Horcrux and knelt next to Dumbledore again, "Professor? Professor, we've done it. We can go now."

It took a moment for Dumbledore to respond, but when he did it was a pained gasp, "Water."

Harry immediately grabbed the goblet, and conjured water into it, but when he offered it to Dumbledore the water disappeared before he could drink it. He tried twice more, and then even tried conjuring the water directly into Dumbledore's mouth, but each time the water vanished before it could do any good.

Harry glowered at the lake around him. He _knew _ what Voldemort wanted his victims to do here. There had to be another way.

Dumbledore had said there was a Muggle town up the street. Towns had shops, and shops sold all kinds of things, including bottled water. His aunt loved the stuff, because she thought it was 'better' than tap water. Harry had never noticed the difference. He thought very carefully about this bottled water, and cast, "Accio."

It took a while, but after about a minute of trying not to panic as Dumbledore's breathing got weaker and weaker, the object he had summoned game zooming into the cave.

Harry tried not to think about what may or may not have been damaged at the poor innocent Muggles' shop on its journey here... but any concerns he may have had for anyone but himself and Dumbledore evaporated in an instant, as one of those damned corpses- Inferi, Dumbledore had called them- leapt up out of the lake and snatched the bottle out of the air.

Not fair!

Dumbledore was moving, now. Able to move was an improvement, right? Unfortunately, he was trying to reach the edge of the lake himself.

"No!" Harry shouted, deliberately getting in his way. "If you can move, get in the boat, we'll get water when we're out of here!"

Didn't work. Dumbledore just collapsed to the floor and started sobbing again.

Voldemort really had thought the loopholes for this one through, hadn't he?

There had to be something he was missing.

If the only water they were allowed was from the lake- and Harry questioned its safety to drink, even if the corpses floating in it didn't attack them for touching it- then exactly how did Dumbledore's theory that Voldemort wanted anyone who came in here to survive work out?

It didn't, did it? Dumbledore had been _wrong_.

And now his breathing was slowing again. Shallow desperate gasps.

Harry ran through everything they'd done tonight, to try to see if he'd missed anything Dumbledore had told him. Anything at all that could save them.

Then it hit him.

_Fire!_

He knew _several different _ spells that conjured fire, and those things in the water were vulnerable to it. If they attacked, now he knew how to defend himself.

He quickly picked up the goblet in his left hand, wand ready in his right, and scooped up a cupful of water as fast as he could. He was less surprised than you really ought to be when a dead and half-rotted hand swiped out of the water and grabbed at his leg. He backed up quickly, casting "Incendio!" at it. A ball of fire hit the creature's leg, setting its wet robes into raging flames and causing it to fall face-down, sliding back into the water.

He knelt next to Dumbledore, and tipped the water into his mouth.

A glance up told him two more of the Inferi had come out of the water. "Flagrate!" the jet of flame, flew straight at the nearest one, blazing across its chest.

It burned like a brand, cutting deep but not setting light to much else, and caused it to stumble back into the water flailing in apparent pain.

"Inflammare!" The third one wasn't so badly affected, barely set its hair on fire. While it did stumble around instead of attacking, it didn't look too badly damaged.

Dumbledore was sitting up under his own power, now, as a dozen more Inferi staggered out of the lake.

Harry stood up straight and yelled, "Flagrate!" slicing the air across so the lash of fire flew out like a whip and struck five of the things at once.

His next try, he focused harder, really threw all his energy into it, though this time he didn't even try to say the word. He managed to spin around, so it threw the whip of fire around in a circle, out from himself and over Dumbledore's head, so it struck every single creature approaching them.

Harry scowled at the lake, as more of the things started to crawl up onto the surface. There had to be a more permanent solution. And if you can't freeze the lake over... well, why not do the opposite?

Hermione's favourite fuel-less waterproof fire spell was in the first-year Standard Book of Spells. He threw another whip of Flagrate at the Inferi, then cast the cold fire spell out at the lake itself.

And just like that, it was over.

The bluebell flames shimmering along the surface of the water. Either it did harm them like real fire, or the Inferi just didn't want to risk it. Either way, the cave was now fully illuminated right out to the shores by glistening blue light that completely obliterated the terrible darkness and silence of earlier.

The merry crackling of the dancing firelight was downright heart-warming.

Harry turned to see Dumbledore sitting up quite attentively, smiling with pride, "Very well done, Harry." he said, his voice far weaker than his expression let on.

"Are you alright, Professor?" Harry asked, moving quickly to help him as he picked himself up to stand.

"Better, for now, I believe. We should return to Hogwarts immediately." He moved to the pedestal, but Harry stopped him.

"I got it already." he showed Dumbledore the locket he had plucked from the basin of poison.

Dumbledore nodded approvingly, "Then let us leave." They both climbed into the boat, and as they floated across the shimmering lake, Dumbledore added with an attempt at cheer that didn't manage to reach his eyes, "I must say, Harry... I do like what you've done with the place."

x x x


	91. The Lightning Struck Tower

x x x

**Chapter 91: The Lightning-Struck Tower**

x x x

Draco Malfoy was no Gryffindor... but damnit, he wasn't a coward either!

In spite of Jack's oh-so-chivalrous offer to keep him hidden and safe from the big bad Death Eaters, Draco had decided it was worth the risk to venture out into the castle. He was good at disillusionment charms, had his own broomstick, and probably a better idea of what was about to happen than Jack did.

It wasn't like Jack had given him time to explain it properly.

So he found his way to Dumbledore's office, and was entirely unsurprised to find it was unlocked and unguarded. The room was quiet and still. Even the man sitting in the Headmaster's chair was unmoving.

Professor Snape was waiting for Dumbledore to return, while everyone else panicked.

Snape had mentioned the Unbreakable Vow to him, and he had asked his mother about it after she had been told about his faked death. He _knew _ what Snape had to do, and it seemed he had predicted correctly how it would be done.

The mission Draco had failed to complete... to murder Albus Dumbledore, and let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

Snape's exceptional senses were not in his hearing or eyesight, but purely telepathic. Legilimency. Draco was exceptionally good at blanking out his mind. While Jack would claim that thinking the _wrong _ things was more effective for protection... Draco knew that thinking _nothing _ was so very much better for concealment. Snape didn't even notice as he moved silently around the room, to hide in a corner behind the now deserted perch upon which Dumbledore's pet phoenix usually resided.

Minutes ticked by slowly, and Draco seriously considered trying to curse Snape before anything bad happened. He _liked _ Snape as a person, as a teacher, as a friend of the family. He didn't _want _ to hurt him... but he didn't want the Dark Lord victorious, either.

Before he could decide, the door flew open, admitting Dumbledore and Potter to the small office. It looked like Dumbledore was already wounded, and Potter was bearing some of his weight to help him even so much as walk.

"Ah, Severus. I am glad you are here." Dumbledore said, his voice weak and sorely lacking that usual cheer and amusement that had so often annoyed Draco in the past.

Snape stared at Potter for all of a second, before turning his full attention to Dumbledore, and at least appearing to be genuinely concerned, "What have you done to yourself this time?"

"Ah, more of the same, I do believe." Dumbledore dismissed lightly, "If I could trouble you for a diagnosis?"

"Naturally." Snape sneered. Draco could diagnose a few mental issues in the old man right now, but he really didn't want to draw attention to himself.

Snape scanned Dumbledore with his wand, muttering under his breath. It took a few minutes, but finally he announced, "Do you have any idea what you drank, tonight?"

"It wasn't Butterbeer, that's for sure." Potter sniped darkly.

"It is poison." Snape announced coldly, "A slow and terrible poison that eventually drives its victim into violent delirium." he sighed, sounding thoroughly exasperated with the headmaster's stupidity. Draco wholly empathised. "It was once popular among dark wizards, who would feed it to unwitting Muggles and watch them slowly go insane, sometimes over a duration of weeks or months. Eventually, their minds would snap, they would murder everyone they care about, and finally commit suicide. It is less... potent on victims with magical blood, but there is no antidote, and the victim _always _ loses the will to live in the end."

Potter snorted bitterly, fighting back tears by the look of it. He turned to Dumbledore, voice cracking as he said, "This is the last time I take your word on Voldemort's motivations. You know that, right? You said it wouldn't be fatal!"

"It still will not be the cause of my death, Harry." Dumbledore said with a deep sigh.

"Did you not hear me?" Snape snarled, "There _IS NO ANTIDOTE!_"

Dumbledore just looked up at Snape coldly.

Snape returned his gaze, his expression becoming bitter and twisted as he did so. "Well, if you insist. I would so hate to see this poison take effect while two of your precious students were present."

"Two?" Potter demanded.

So much for stealth. Draco dropped the concealment spell, drawing his wand on Snape. "I know what you're planning to do." he said bitterly, "I came to stop you."

"So you would sentence _me _ to death, instead of allowing me to put a dying old _fool _ out of his misery? Is that it, Draco?"

"He's not a fool!" Potter snapped angrily.

"On that, Harry, I am afraid we must disagree." Dumbledore said weakly yet somehow he still looked like he found it funny, "I was indeed mistaken, regarding the poison."

"One mistake..." Potter muttered.

"I know they're waiting for you at the gates." Draco said coldly, to Snape, "If we let you go, they'll get in."

"Who?" Potter asked.

"Death Eaters." Draco said bitterly.

"If you do not allow Severus to complete his mission, Mr Malfoy, then the Vow he made for you will kill him."

"Shut up, old man!" Draco snarled, "I'm sick of all of this! All of you think you can play some twisted game of chess with people's lives. You even think you're expendable yourself!"

"But I am." Dumbledore retorted blandly, "I am old, frail, dying. It is my time."

"Wait a minute..." Potter interrupted, "Snape's meant to kill you? And you want to _let _ him?"

"That is correct, Harry."

Potter stared at Snape in shock, "Why?"

"I made a Vow to protect Draco. A caveat of that was that, should he fail in his mission assigned by the Dark Lord, that I should complete it." Snape sneered bitterly, "At the time, I was unaware of the... specifics of the mission."

"You just assumed you'd be more competent at whatever it was than me, right?" Draco sniped bitterly.

"I had hoped it would be a simpler task, one that would neither endanger you, nor require my intervention." Snape admitted.

Draco shook his head and looked at Dumbledore, "You want to die?" he asked sceptically.

"I am dying." the old man admitted, "It is simply a matter of convenience for both Severus and myself that it be immediate."

Draco lowered his wand slowly, turning now to scowl at Snape, "Who's side are you on?"

"The winning side." Severus answered, with a faint smirk.

"I know it's not in your nature, since you're Slytherin and all." Potter sniped, "But right now would be a _really _ good time for an honest answer."

Severus looked at Potter with a twisted sneer of both distaste and deep emotional pain, "A battle lost tonight could lead to a war won the end. I would see the Dark Lord dead, if it takes my own last breath to do so."

Potter looked from Snape to Dumbledore and back again, then very resentfully backed down, "I don't like this."

"Neither do I." Snape admitted, drawing his wand and aiming it at Dumbledore. Potter looked away, but Draco did not. He watched with terrifying fascination and awe as Severus said the fatal words, "Avada Kedavra."

A flare of green light and a rush of sound. Potter flinched, while Draco simply stared. And Dumbledore- one of the greatest wizards of their time- was dead.

Potter dared to look, and immediately covered his mouth as if he was going to be sick, once again trying to fight back tears.

"What about the Death Eaters?" Draco asked coldly.

"I will open the gate." Snape admitted, "Whether they make it through or not... is not my concern."

Draco frowned, but then nodded, "I'd suggest you leave the building through the side doors to the Quidditch pitch. There's probably a small army assembled in the Entrance Hall by now."

Potter looked up at Draco in shock, "You're just going to _let _ him go? Let the Death Eaters in?"

"They'll go for the main entrance." Draco explained, "And the castle is well defended. Letting the Death Eaters in is still a requirement of the Vow. Which would you prefer, Potter? Allow a powerful ally to die for your principles, or take a risk to keep a valuable spy?"

Snape looked rather proud of Draco, there. Almost a smile, even.

Potter stepped aside, still looking ten different kinds of bitter and resentful. "Run... because I will chase you."

"Let's see how good you really are, then, Potter." Snape challenged, before turning and running from the room.

Draco and Potter stared at each other for a moment. The painful truth and cold understanding hanging thick in the air between them. Then, after he seemed to deem enough time had passed to give chase, Potter all but ordered, "Warn the others."

Draco nodded, hating to take orders from Harry Potter of all people, but knowing it was the right move to make here regardless of who actually said it, and they both ran out of the room together.

x x x

The plan had changed, but not the eventual goal. The treachery of the Malfoys would not stop Lord Voldemort from destroying his enemies. It merely added them to the list of enemies.

His patience was wearing thin, but finally he saw the sign.

The Dark Mark flew over the castle, and a lone figure ran towards the gate. Snape cast a spell at the gates, and they swung open with a blast of magic and a clash of metal. Severus ran past the other Death Eaters, turning to stop at Lord Voldemort's side, ready to fight.

A wave of Lord Voldemort's hand, a command to advance, to attack, and all but Severus advanced into the castle grounds. He turned to Snape, "You have done well tonight, Severus. You will leave, now. Return to the Manor."

Snape bowed and disapparated.

Voldmort followed his servants into the grounds.

As they approached the castle, however, something unexpected happened.

Up ahead of them, Dumbledore's accursed bird, Fawkes, soared down towards them, a trail of fire blazing behind it. From behind them something else, shimmering black magical energy, swirling like shadow and dust, tore through the air along ground-level. Both circled the group of Death Eaters, before landing side by side in front of them.

Both transformed into humans. Two men. The phoenix became a tall, black-haired young man wearing shimmering green robes. The shadows became a shorter, blond, more like middle-aged man wearing Muggle clothes and a stark red cloak with gold trim.

"I would say sorry for crashing your party." the blond said coldly, "Except... no I'm not."

"Do I know you?" the taller man- Fawkes?- asked coolly.

"Not yet. You ought to look forward to it, though." the blond answered with sardonic cheer, "Who's first?" he asked, turning to the Death Eaters.

The taller man shook his head, "This is your one chance to leave." he growled, directed at Voldemort specifically.

Voldemort stepped forward to confront them himself, "And just why should I listen to you?" he demanded.

"You _want _ the list?" the blond mocked.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_" Voldemort yelled, wand aimed at the blond. But the man dissolved into the same black smoke he had flown as, and the curse went right through it.

Laughing, he reappeared a moment later, "Can't kill what you can't touch!"

"Is there a reason you're provoking him?" the taller man asked coldly.

"Because I've always wanted to." the blond retorted, still laughing.

"I don't work with Gryffindors." the taller man hissed darkly.

"Then fight with me. It'll be fun." he turned to Voldemort, "Was that your best shot? Come on, come get me!"

Fenrir Greyback lunged at him, without orders, swiping clawed hands towards the blond man's throat. But a blast of magic sent the hapless werewolf flying ten feet backwards. Jugson and Nott barely avoided being barrelled over in the process.

"I came out here to enforce a peaceful resolution." the taller man snapped.

"And I came to play, because I knew any such attempt would fail."

"_SILENCE!_" Voldemort snarled at them both.

Footsteps running behind them drew their attention to five members of the Order of the Phoenix arriving on the scene. The Death Eaters turned and a fight began behind him. Voldemort continued to stare down the two strangers.

"Who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare." the blond growled.

"He means that in a combative way, I can tell." the taller man sneered, "I'm your _ego's _ worst nightmare." The blond snickered at that.

Voldemort eyed the darker haired man with careful calculation. "You think to scare me? You underestimate my power."

A wave of his wand and both men were sent flying before either could react.

The blond recovered first, and with a wave of his _hand_, he sent a wordless curse at Voldemort. A curse which he only just managed to block. Perhaps he had underestimated them, but he would not be defeated by this _Mudblood_... or Dumbledore's mangy pet bird! Within seconds, another curse had sent the blond to the ground again. "Avada-"

Before he could complete the killing curse upon his prone victim, a disarming spell struck him from _above_.

He looked up but saw nothing there. The distraction was all it took for the taller man to recover and throw another curse at him. He dodged, and raced to recover his own wand. Neither one moved fast enough to stop him, and the second he had it, he took off, flying for the gates. He didn't care about his servants, they would survive or they were unworthy. He would escape this ambush, and find out who these mysterious assailants were.

The shadows that he knew were the blond man followed him closely for a short distance, but then stopped and turned back to the fray below.

Allowing Voldemort to make his escape.

x x x

Salazar watched, recovering quickly enough himself, as the blond stranger dove at the Death Eaters and as he landed sent a wave of kinetic energy out in all directions, knocking them over with ease. Resolving into human form, the man turned and threw out a series of stunning curses around him, striking the Death Eaters with exceptional aim.

He just caught Greyback as he had been preparing to pounce on a wounded and defenceless enemy. A red-head he recognised from his time in the Headmaster's office as Bill Weasley.

The battle was done mere seconds after the blond man had deigned to join it.

Just as Salazar had learned to do over the centuries, this man could and did use focused and powerful magic without the aid of a wand. He fought with reckless abandon, the initial attack dependent as much on the physical as the magical. A true Gryffindor, if ever Salazar had seen one. He even wore the house colours proudly.

The Order of the Phoenix, as Albus Dumbledore had so named them, were left to their own devices to recuperate, as the man sauntered smugly over to Salazar, "Didn't see you get your hands dirty."

"You expected me to?" Salazar asked sceptically. The man acted as if he knew him. If that were true, he should know better.

"Not really. Must be boring, though."

Suddenly the bird that was young Ianto Jones' Animagus form landed next to them and transformed into the human boy, "You owe me your life, Hart. Just so you know." he informed the blond coldly.

"Oh, do I?" the man asked, arching an eyebrow at this statement.

"He was going to kill you." Ianto said flatly, "I interrupted him."

"How?" Hart demanded.

"I was watching from overhead." Ianto explained, smirking smugly, "I transformed, cast a disarming spell and turned back into a bird before I fell too far. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Hart looked both oddly admiring of this feat, but at the same time a bit uncomfortable, "I don't owe anyone anything." he snapped.

"Perhaps we should leave." Salazar said coldly, "I have no interest in continuing this conversation with you." he glowered at Hart, "And the others are starting to notice us."

"Obliviate is always useful." Ianto offered.

"Not this time, I don't think." Salazar said softly.

Hart shrugged, "Catch you later, Eye-Candy." and with that he seemed to dissolve into smoke again, soaring away towards the gate.

Salazar resolved to find out how he did that. It could be useful, but then he gave Ianto an amused sort of look, "Well done. It is always fulfilling to save a life. Maybe not do it again, for that one, though."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Ianto smirked darkly.

Salazar laughed, and turned away from the scene, walking towards the forest. He would transform there, away from prying eyes.

x x x

Jack had been on-edge, waiting inside the castle with the teachers and the rest of the D.A. Ianto was out there watching, hopefully to gather information. Hopefully still safe.

Draco had run down the marble staircase minutes ago, telling them that Snape had betrayed them and was going to let the Death Eaters in. He said he had tried to stop Snape, but... well, Jack wasn't so sure about that. The teachers were a bit shocked to see him, but they had all heard the rumours that his death was a ruse. Not all of them had believed it, but the rumours probably softened the blow of the truth.

Now, however, Ianto flew in through the window and landed next to Jack, becoming human once more, he looked kind of tired, "It's over. They ran away."

"What happened?" Colin Creevey piped up before anyone else could ask.

"The Death Eaters were all defeated. Voldemort ran away."

Suddenly a crowing voice echoed from above.

"_Jingle Bells,_  
><em>The Dark Lord smells, A million miles away!<em>  
><em>Faced with some kids,<em>  
><em>He ran and hid,<em>  
><em>Chicken shit all the way!<em>"

"_PEEVES!_" McGonagall yelled.

"It's not Christmas, Peeves." Luna said, smiling mistily, as if she believed this was the only possible reason McGonagall could have had for shouting at him.

"I like that song." Owen grinned.

The D.A. couldn't seem to decide between giggling at the words, and blind terror at Owen saying he liked a song. At least the Torchwood team all settled for laughter.

Peeves floated off, cheerfully continuing to sing.

"_Jingle Bells,_  
><em>The Dark Lord smells,<em>  
><em>Of stale feet and decay!<em>  
><em>With garlic breath,<em>  
><em>That smells like death,<em>  
><em>And that's on a good day!<em>"

Just then the front doors creaked open, and Harry, Tonks, and- well, most likely another Weasley, but Jack wouldn't swear to it- walked in. "That was quite a show!" Tonks said, out of breath.

"Snape got away." Harry growled bitterly.

"It could have been worse." she told him, "At least you stayed hidden until You-Know-Who left."

"Don't know why I did." Harry muttered, "Even Ianto took a pot-shot at him."

Ianto leaned over and stage-whispered to Jack, "I think he's figured out I'm an Animagus."

"You did _what?_" Jack yelled, horrified.

"He was suitably distracted, I was forty-feet in the air... and if I hadn't done it, someone would have died."

"Forty feet in the air?" Susan Bones asked.

"It's _fun _ casting curses in freefall." Ianto said with false cheer that made it sound like it might well have been downright terrifying.

"You must be _really _ confident about that Animagism thing, bird-boy." Owen grumbled.

"Yes. Yes, I am." Ianto nodded, "And if you call me that again, I'll shove a fork somewhere you won't like."

Everyone was in good humour, now. The tale of dramatic battle was enough to put even those who hadn't participated into a state of victorious euphoria.

All except Harry and Draco.

When Jack noticed this, he frowned, "Harry...?" Harry looked at him, and he could see a deep pain in the boy's eyes, "What happened?"

Harry blinked, and looked away, swallowing hard. It looked like he was trying not to cry.

Jack looked at Draco. The only other one not to have already started celebrating. Draco scowled, shaking his head slightly and refusing to answer.

"Now isn't the time." Harry all-but whispered, bitter and pained, "Let them celebrate."

x x x

The news of Dumbledore's death came out a couple of hours later, after the other students had finally gone to bed.

It was Harry who explained. Not that he had wanted to of course. At least it had happened somewhere students wouldn't be likely to stumble upon the body. Certainly not now that the teachers knew it had happened.

Harry made his way up to the Room of Requirement, thoroughly exhausted and the last thing he wanted was to see his friends throwing a party over the victory when he knew what they had lost tonight. Of course, there was another reason he came here, of all places.

"Can't sleep, either, Potter?" Malfoy asked bitterly, as Harry closed the door behind him.

"Can't stand the thought of a victory party right now." he admitted.

"Bet you any money, if they knew the whole story, half MY house would throw the party for _that_."

Harry rolled his eyes in disgust. "Only half?"

"Three fifths. Maybe."

Harry shook his head and sat down on a chair that probably hadn't been there a minute ago. It was identical to the ones in Gryffindor Tower, he vaguely noticed.

Malfoy pretended to ignore him, as he pulled the locket out of his pocket and frowned at it. It didn't look right at all. It was smaller than the one he had seen in the Pensieve, and plain. Lacking the distinctive decorative 'S' of Slytherin's locket. He remembered a couple of scanning spells the D.A. had studied at Malfoy's prompting, to detect dark magic. Now he cast one of them over the locket.

Absolutely nothing happened... besides Malfoy taking notice that he was up to something.

"What've you got there?" Malfoy asked.

Harry glowered at him for half a second, then turned his attention back tot he locket and opened it. It just held a scrap of paper. "Nothing." he muttered, snapping it closed and pocketing it again.

"You're a terrible liar, Potter."

"And I'm starting to think you're a kleptomaniac, Malfoy."

"A what?"

"It's a Muggle word. Means compulsive thief. You just want it 'cause it's shiny."

"Yes." Malfoy admitted blithely, "I am, actually. What tipped you off? Was it Longbottom's Rememberall? Or when I stole Goyle's Christmas presents while you were impersonating him, second year?"

"How did you-?"

"You have _no idea _ how those two behave in private." Malfoy said flatly, tilting his head to one side in a way that gave Harry the impression this knowledge he lacked was something that should have been obvious, and he should be ashamed of himself for not figuring it out.

Harry ignored the insinuation completely, and just shrugged.

"So what've you got there, then?"

"None of your damned business!" Harry snarled.

Malfoy shrugged, "Fine. I'll just ask Jack to 'interrogate' you later. You'll like that."

Harry scowled, and decided he _really _ didn't want to know what that meant. "If you must know, it's the reason Dumbledore was away from the castle tonight. He was looking for a dangerous magical artefact, and we got a cheap fake instead!"

He carefully slipped the piece of paper out of the locket, without removing it from his pocket. Let the paper fall into his pocket as he pulled out the fake Horcrux. "See for yourself, if you don't believe me!"

He threw the now-empty fake-locket at Malfoy, who caught it easily.

"It's meant to be dangerous?" Malfoy asked sceptically.

Harry nodded.

Malfoy shrugged and set the locket on a table that _definitely _ hadn't been there a moment ago, then he started casting a bunch of wordless spells at it. "Traces of poison on it... harmless to touch. I would _really _ wash my hands if I were you, though." Harry clenched his fists at that statement. Not just because it reminded him of the effects of that poison, but from some genuine fear of it, as well. "Other than that... nothing."

"I thought so..." Harry admitted.

"Why, what was it meant to be?"

"Nevermind." Harry sulked, about to fold his arms before he remembered the aforementioned poison. Then he realised he would probably have to burn these robes already anyway, so he just went ahead and assumed the arms-folded sulking posture.

Malfoy shrugged, "Whatever." he left the locket sitting where it was, cast a scouring spell on his own hands, and then went back to where he had been sitting a minute ago. He even had the nerve to pick up a book to read.

"This doesn't upset you?" Harry demanded.

"What doesn't?" Malfoy asked, looking up at him blankly.

"Everything that's happened tonight. Voldemort breaking into school grounds. Dumbledore-" he couldn't say it.

Silence echoed for several seconds after his failure to finish that sentence.

Finally, Malfoy said quietly, "Everybody dies. It's just a matter of how and when."

Harry snorted in disgusted disapproval of this blithe dismissal.

"I'd personally prefer to be asleep, and somewhere at least over fifty when it happens to me..." Malfoy continued idly, "But we don't always get what we want."

Harry stared at him in shock... but then he saw Malfoy's hands were shaking slightly, and suddenly realised that this was just a front. A mask to hide what Malfoy perceived as weakness.

Harry decided, for perhaps the first time since they'd met, not to push him.

x x x


	92. Windows To The Soul

x x x

**Chapter 92: Windows To The Soul**

x x x

Draco _did _ actually tell Jack that Harry was hiding something. He did even suggest Jack would be better at extracting information from him... in a way emphatically not at all similar to that which he used to get Draco to confess to plotting Albus Dumbledore's murder.

Jack couldn't agree more with that emphasis.

He had told Draco the very idea was ridiculous. And it was... for entirely other reasons from those Draco must have assumed.

He would admit there weren't many people he wouldn't sleep with, and he had originally turned Harry down (for only a kiss, but it still counted) because he thought of him as a child. Now Harry was certainly _not _ a child anymore, either physically or emotionally, but Jack still considered Harry to be more like family.

Now, he sought Harry out in Gryffindor Tower.

"He's not even awake yet, leave him alone!" Ron protested, though nowhere near as viciously as he might have a couple of years ago.

Jack ignored the protest, and promptly locked Ron out of the Gryffindor sixth-year dormitory. When he approached the only bed with the curtains pulled, he was surprised to see a total lack of security spells on it or its curtains. Unlike anyone in Slytherin house, Harry _trusted _ his roommates, and it seemed they honoured that trust.

"Harry?"

With absolutely no time taken to hide anything or act suspiciously, Harry pulled a curtain back to reveal he had been sitting up, with a piece of parchment in his hand and a couple of books on the bed. He looked upset, shaken even, but determined. Without any help at all from his go-to bookaholic, Hermione, he was researching something that outranked his grief.

The open book was the potions text Owen raved about, the one sitting further away and closed was titled '_Magick Most Horrible_'.

"Extra credit?" Jack asked sceptically.

"Who let you in?"

"I let myself in. To be fair, Ron did try to stop me."

Harry shook his head and folded up the parchment a bit too pointedly. "I think Dumbledore confiscated the important books."

"Oh?"

"I doubt you can help."

Jack snorted, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Harry and peering at the open page in the potions book. The barely legible handwriting all over it went on about detecting dark magic and poisons. "Try me." he said blithely.

"Ever heard of a Horcrux?"

"Damn, you're trusting." Jack muttered, "Yes, I have." He carefully didn't meet Harry's inquisitive stare at this obviously unexpected answer.

"Not surprising, I guess. You are... cursed... yourself, right?"

"I told you how that happened. I didn't even know about Horcruxes until-" he stopped. He did not want to tell Harry how he had learned that. It was still too fresh in his mind, and even if Dumbledore was dead- had damned well planned it, from what he had heard from Draco- he knew telling Harry everything he knew on the subject was the _last _ thing he should do.

Harry shook his head, "Doesn't matter. I wouldn't have told you if I thought you were that bad."

"Told me what?"

Harry seemed to steel himself, before launching into the explanation, "Voldemort wanted to split his soul into seven pieces. Something about seven being one of the most powerful magical numbers. So instead of just making _one _ Horcrux... he wanted to make six. According to what Dumbledore told me, he probably managed to get five of them before failing to kill me. Then when he came back, he made Nagini- his pet snake- into one, as well."

If Harry hadn't looked so upset right now, probably more from talking about Dumbledore than from talking about Voldemort and Horcruxes, Jack might have outright scoffed or laughed at that idea. "Why would he use a living- therefore mortal- creature as a vessel to anchor his soul? Especially if he already had five perfectly functional ones sitting around?"

Harry stared at thin air for a second, before answering in a too-measured tone, "You mean besides the fact I destroyed one, without knowing what it was, when I was twelve? I have no idea."

Jack smiled faintly, "I like making so-called evil geniuses look like morons. And Voldemort's been giving me a lot of ammunition lately."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, giving him a sidelong look.

"I got my hands on one of his Horcruxes earlier in the year. Had to do some research to find out what it was, and technically you should thank _Draco _ for helping me find it, but once I knew what it was I destroyed it. I was going to tell you, but... well, then Voldemort attacked the castle."

Harry snorted derisively, "How easy was it to find?"

"Find? Really easy. Steal... quite life-threatening."

Harry shook his head, "Malfoy? Really?"

"If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure he didn't _mean _ to help you in any way." Jack offered with a faint smirk. When Harry didn't answer that, Jack tried another question, "What do you know about them?"

"There was a book- that's the one I destroyed in second year. A ring, which Dumbledore destroyed."

"A ring? Now that's just downright cliche."

"I'm quite sure I don't want to ask why." Harry said, looking like he couldn't decide between smiling or crying. He just about managed to do neither. "There's also the snake... a cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, something of Ravenclaw's... and a locket he inherited from Salazar Slytherin. Dumbledore and I were looking for the locket last night. We found this, instead."

Harry handed the piece of parchment over to Jack, who took it wordlessly, and read.

'_To the Dark Lord _  
><em>I know I will be dead long before you <em>_read this  
>but I want you to know that <em>_it was I who discovered your secret._  
><em>I have stolen the real Horcrux and <em>_intend to destroy it as soon as I __can._  
><em>I face death in the hope that when <em>_you meet your match  
>you will be <em>_mortal once more._  
><em>R.A.B.<em>'

"Who's R.A.B.?" Jack asked.

"No idea." Harry admitted bitterly, his voice cracking as he said it, "Dumbledore weakened himself for nothing."

"He planned it." Jack said softly, "He left, last night, _expecting _ to die."

Harry turned and stared at Jack, eyes wide with surprise but shining with anger, "What?"

"He spoke to me, before you left. Told me about the Horcruxes, though not in as much detail as he told you." Jack looked away, not wanting to meet Harry's eyes as he said this. Didn't want to give away the pain and pity he felt at the terrible knowledge. "That's why I only dispelled the diadem last night- it was the one from Ravenclaw, the relic is still intact but the dark magic is gone now."

"What makes you think he didn't plan to come back?" Harry snapped, not taking the bait of a potential change of subject.

"Remember how you asked him to tell me, Ron, or Hermione, if there was ever anything you couldn't afford to know?" Jack asked. He only saw out of the corner of his eye that Harry nodded, because he was still avoiding meeting his gaze. "He told me something. The fact that he relinquished such vital information to a _fourth year _ must have meant he was desperate for someone to know. Someone to be able to tell you... eventually."

Harry scowled. "And you can't tell me now?"

"That's right."

"You were right, weren't you? He was manipulating us all along, wasn't he?"

"Probably." Jack shrugged, "Doesn't necessarily mean he was wrong, though."

Harry looked like he was about to say something, but then bit his lip to stop himself, and shook his head, "I still trust you. If you say I can't know yet, then I believe you."

"Thousands wouldn't." Jack muttered, a twisted and bitterly ironic smile on his lips.

Harry sniffed and turned away, "Right. Three down... we're already halfway there, and it only took what, fifteen years?" Unspoken in the despairing silence, Jack could literally feel the words 'and how many lives?'

"We already know what the others are." Jack said, trying to sound reassuring. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry shrugged him off. Silence echoed between them for a moment before Jack spoke again, more softly, "You've been through a lot, Harry. It doesn't have to be me, but you can't afford to push your friends away."

Harry looked at him sharply.

"I know what it's like to deal with grief alone. It isn't pretty."

Harry nodded shakily, looking away again, "Right. I'll get right on that."

Jack frowned, wanting to try again to comfort him, but quite sure that he wouldn't get anywhere with it. Harry was far too stubborn, and if he sought his friends' help it would be in his own sweet time, when he was damned well ready, and not a moment before.

Jack just hoped that wouldn't be too late.

x x x

Hermione looked up at a loud shout from the stairs to the Gryffindor boys' dorms.

"Hey, stop that little shit, he cursed me!" It was Cormac McLaggen, and he was shouting about Jack Harkness, who was already halfway across the common room on his way to the exit, though he was only walking briskly rather than running.

Nobody liked Cormac, so nobody obeyed this demand.

He charged across the common room, knocking over a table upon which a pair of first-years had been playing exploding snap, and grabbed Jack by both arms, pulling and twisting them back at an unnatural angle.

Jack yelled in pain, even as McLaggen demanded, "The hell was a snake like you doing up here, anyway?"

"None of your business." Jack gasped, turning his gaze to the sudden crowd of onlookers, "Somebody get this Wookie off me?"

"Expelliarmus!"

Jack was immediately released, sent flying a couple of feet forward actually, before he turned around to see who had freed him. Hermione also turned to look, and saw none other than Ron standing at the foot of the stairs.

"What? Thought we were still enemies, Harkness?" Ron asked, probably at the shocked look Jack was wearing now.

"What's a Wookie?" Neville asked.

Hermione covered her face with one hand. Sometimes the Wizarding World just needed a movie night. Seriously.

"It's a big hairy creature Muggles made up, looks like a cross between a dog and a Yeti." Dennis Creevey supplied helpfully.

"They're sentient beings, but people often treat them like beasts." his brother Colin agreed.

"And they're well-known for ripping people's arms out of their sockets when they lose." Jack added almost gleefully.

"L- lose?" McLaggen demanded, "I didn't lose! You attacked me!"

"You were in my way, I asked you nicely to move, and you insisted in insulting the colour of my school tie." Jack snapped, "I removed you from my way as painlessly as possible. I see now that the painless part was a mistake." McLaggen seethed for a few seconds, and Jack just smirked as if he had already won the argument. He turned and headed for the exit once more.

McLaggen, however, decided that the fight was _not _ over, and shouting out a curse Hermione recognised- though she hadn't heard its word before. "Animus!"

The curse hit Jack just as he turned back around. He did try to dodge it, but being attacked from behind really made it so much harder to avoid. With a yelp of surprise, he was transformed.

The spell was designed to force a person to take on the form of their spirit animal. The form they took as an Animagus, which also showed a lot about their personality. Hermione had subconsciously likened the animal forms to Daemons from the novel 'His Dark Materials', when she had read up on it... and it was the same curse the impostor Moody had used on Malfoy.

Jack had turned into a cat.

Far too large for a housecat, but definitely not one of the bigger breeds of wild cat. It looked a bit like a hybrid between a lynx and a kneazle, with tufted ears and mottled fur, but larger as kneazles were wont to be, and with a bottle-brush tail just like the signature appendage that had clued her in to Crookshanks' half-breed nature.

The cat seemed shocked, staring at its paws for a second, flexing its claws, then eyeing McLaggen with an unsettlingly calculating glare. Like he was deciding exactly which major blood vessels he wanted to slice open in the man's neck.

"Huh." McLaggen snorted, "I expected something less than a cat. Like a black-widow spider, or something."

Jack immediately hissed, hackles raised and teeth bared at McLaggen. The cat's claws actually left marks in the stone floor where he flexed them, now outright snarling at McLaggen, who looked entirely too smug.

"Cormac, change him back!" Alicia Spinnet commanded.

"Considering Harkness attitude, and the rumours about him, that would be like the worst kind of hell." Katie Bell put in.

Jack paused in his feline death-threats to give her a sideways look for that, before resuming snarling at McLaggen.

"Just change him back." Alicia insisted.

"Or what?" McLaggen scoffed in such an annoyingly smug and superior tone. Hermione wanted to punch him, just like that time she punched Malfoy. Except even more, because damn it Gryffindors should know better, and McLaggen was a coward for attacking while his opponent's back was turned.

Hermione shook her head and pointed her wand at McLaggen, "Turn him back now." she commanded.

"No." McLaggen sneered.

She laughed derisively at him, and cast, "Animus."

In an instant, he was transformed into a horned toad. "Now _that _ suits him." Ron laughed.

Hermione smiled at him, but was startled by something bumping into her leg.

The cat had head-butted her, and as soon as she looked he promptly sat at her feet looking expectant, raising a paw to her in an almost begging fashion.

"Well since you asked nicely." she said to him, before waving her wand, "Finite."

Jack was human once more, albeit on his knees by Hermione's feet. He quickly stood and backed up to a more respectable distance, before looking at Katie and saying flatly, "Third. You clearly haven't met the wrong people."

"You remember what I can do with a knotting jinx?" Alicia asked chirpily.

"Can I step on the toad, please?" Ron asked hopefully.

"See how long he lasts down in the potions lab." Jack agreed almost eagerly.

"Yeah!" Ron crowed.

"No." Hermione said firmly, "Do you two have any idea what you're saying? You're effectively threatening murder!"

"Idly." Jack pointed out.

"Really?" Ron asked him. Hermione glowered, "No, really! I was joking! Honest!" he back-pedalled quickly.

"Good." Hermione nodded sharply, "He can stay a toad for a while, though. It really does suit him."

"And people say turning your enemies into toads is a Muggle myth." Jack laughed.

x x x

Ianto sat in Professor McGonagall's office, trying very hard to look respectful and civilised, instead of the petulant child he really felt like right now.

He had known this would happen, and in the long run it hadn't even been worth it. They hadn't _needed _ him to save valuable time by not concealing his Animagism... nor had the dramatic entrance done anything other than spawn another unholy nickname from Owen.

"You know why you're here, Mr Jones." McGonagall said sternly. She didn't even bother making it sound like a question.

"Yes, Professor." he answered promptly, "Because I'm an illegal Animagus."

"Precisely. What you did was highly dangerous, practicing such magic unsupervised could have caused you serious injury. Animagism is rarely taught at Hogwarts, and even then only to seventh years under strict supervision."

It wasn't exactly like he could- or even felt he should- tell her that he had in fact been supervised, and taught by a highly experienced Animagus. Instead he feigned apology and meekness, bowing his head and muttering, "I understand."

"Still, while your method of achieving such a feat may be suspect, your talent seems most impressive." she conceded.

He looked up at her, surprised.

"And, considering the circumstances, perhaps best not mentioned to the Ministry for the time being." she continued in what he was sure was a faintly amused tone. "We wouldn't want any innocent waterfowl to be harmed by your overzealous enemies, now would we?"

"What enemies might those be, Professor?" Ianto asked, trying very hard to feign innocence... and knowing damned well it wasn't going to work on her.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named still lives, and you seem to have chosen your allegiances, for good or ill. Those who witnessed your appearance last night may be open to suggestion as to just how you made your entrance."

And Owen will need his mouth cursed shut, Ianto added mentally, trying not to smirk too blatantly now. "I think I understand, Professor."

"Very good, Mr Jones." McGonagall nodded curtly, "I shall see to your extra credit in my class, during your seventh year. After that you will be registered officially. In the meantime, this incident is not to be mentioned again."

"Of course, Professor."

x x x

The next few days were a blur of activity. Students were taken away from the school by their parents, who no longer deemed it safe without Dumbledore there. The Ministry got itself involved and did its best to intervene, and put a great deal of effort into trying to get Harry to take their side... first in closing the school and then, failing that, in announcing that the Ministry had everything under control.

Harry vehemently refused both of these requests, and eventually ended up telling Rufus Scrimgeour what he could go and do with his bureaucracy, red tape and lies. Jack might have helped with the graphic detail.

Then the funeral.

It felt like everyone turned out to pay their respects to one of- if not _the_- greatest wizard of their time.

Harry had been avoiding most of the attention, as best he could. Rita Skeeter, whose reputation had been redeemed by the Quibbler of all things, was reporting on the event, but even she seemed relatively subdued and sombre about it. Relatively.

"Hey there, Harry." Sirius said gently, appearing behind him as if out of nowhere. They were in the Hogwarts grounds, Harry knew better than to think he had Apparated, but he _was _ good at sneaking. "How're you holding up?"

Sirius had been enjoying his freedom- since the incident at the Department of Mysteries that Harry was told involved some kind of highly illegal potion, which resulted him Sirius being acquitted of all crimes- by spending about a quarter of his apparently impressive family fortune on holidays and parties. Yes, he did spend time in-between all this still working for the Order, but every second of free-time was spent in public, usually expensive, entertainment venues of one kind of another.

Just because _now he could_.

"I'll be fine." Harry answered vaguely, quite sure it was a lie.

"Well, since you refused to tell McGonagall, or any Weasleys, I'm guessing you won't tell me what he was up to the night he...?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. He really trusted Sirius, but... right now only four people knew about the Horcruxes (five if you counted Voldemort himself). Only three people knew that Snape was a double-agent- Jack only knew _that _ because Malfoy told him, Harry wouldn't have mentioned that part even to him. He hadn't even told Ron or Hermione about _that_. The fewer people who could be attacked and tortured for this vital information the better.

"Sorry, but no." Harry said finally, "It's better if I don't tell you."

At that exact moment, Jack, Gwen and Tosh arrived, almost running, "Just the man I was looking for!" Jack crowed.

"Not 'til you're sixteen." Sirius retorted. Yes, _that _ joke would never get less disturbing.

It was Tosh spoke next, "Sirius, how did your brother die?" she asked bluntly.

Sirius blinked, scowled and looked away from them. Harry glared at her, and Gwen rolled her eyes. "Tactful, Tosh." she muttered.

"I'm sorry, but there's not really a nice way to ask these things, is there?" she replied, then to Sirius she continued in a more gentle tone, "We know he's on the casualty list for the last Voldemort-war, but it doesn't say how-"

"That's because his body was never found." Sirius interrupted, "I was never close to him, but I still don't like to talk about it."

"What about his possessions?" Jack asked.

"Probably still in his room." Sirius answered darkly, "Mother kept it like a shrine." And _there _ was resentment. Sirius' brother had been the favoured child. Harry understood how _that _ worked. "He was always the good son. The Slytherin. The Death Eater."

"Not how I see it." Jack said, smirking weakly, and meeting Harry's gaze, "Regulus Arcturus Black."

Harry glared, "You _told _ them?"

Gwen scoffed, "As if Jack would ever tell us something _important_." she snorted, smiling in a way that said she really absolutely _loved _ this about him. "He just sicced Tosh on the library, to look up those initials."

"Hermione was already there, doing the same thing. We put our heads together." Tosh admitted.

Harry stared at the three of them in shock, then glanced at Sirius apologetically, "Guess I should have told you." he conceded sheepishly, glancing around at the assembled crowd. "But not here. Too public."

Sirius gave Jack a sideways look, "What did my brother do, exactly?"

Jack smiled at Sirius. It looked like a great effort, but given the circumstances- the event they were here to witness and pay respect to- Harry fully understood how any positive emotion would be lost or faked. "Something amazing."

x x x


	93. Lines In The Blood

x x x

**Chapter 93: Lines In The Blood**

x x x

In spite of protests from Harry, the Minister of Magic, and the lady who ran the snack trolley, Sirius hitched a ride on the Hogwarts Express, after the funeral. He then proceeded to interrogate Harry, Jack, Hermione and Tosh about precisely why they had been so interested in his brother.

Harry was looking shifty, and downright nervous. Ron and Hermione were avoiding the looks Sirius gave them. Tosh just shrugged and remained blandly unbothered in a way that either meant she really didn't know either... or she was related to Luna Lovegood. For the sake of everybody's sanity, Sirius chose to believe the first option.

Jack just looked smug.

The other three in the somewhat cramped compartment, while Sirius knew they were part of Jack's trusted circle of friends, weren't really all that relevant to the conversation. Owen Harper was acting as a chair for Tosh, given the cramped nature of their seating arrangements. Tosh looked like she was enjoying this a bit more than he was, though he certainly hadn't objected.

Gwen had shoved her back pointedly into a corner and was reading- or at least pretending to read- a copy of Witch Weekly. Meanwhile, Ianto Jones was sharing entirely too little chair-space with Jack, who had his arm draped casually around the Hufflepuff's shoulders. Ianto was also pretending to read... though in his case the reading material was unfortunately educational.

Finally, it was Harry who spoke up, "We think he betrayed Voldemort. Think he stole something _really _ valuable of his... and we need to find it."

"Something like?" Sirius prompted.

"Something that could help us win this war, if we can get our hands on it." Jack answered, "You don't need to know any more than that."

Harry scowled a bit, but didn't meet either Sirius' or Jack's eyes, and just shrugged defensively.

"If Harry wants to tell you, though... it's his business." Jack added cautiously. This one was a bit too good at reading people, Sirius thought, and not in a Legilimency way either. This was the strange and alien art of understanding body-language and non-verbal cues that the average man is usually blind to... especially when women want you to read them.

"It's better for you if you don't know." Harry said flatly, "Less you know about this, the less likely they are to go after you for information."

"Yeah, a clean death in a duel is exactly what I want." Sirius sniped, "I'd rather get caught, and survive the torture to be rescued. I've been through Azkaban, I think I can take a Cruciatus or two."

"This is exactly why you can tell me things, too, Harry." Jack said brightly, before adding far more seriously, "But it's still your secret to tell, not mine."

Harry perked up considerably at those words, "You said you knew someone who could cast Fidelius, right?" he asked Jack.

"Yes." Jack said warily, glancing at Ianto for a second.

"Could we make what we're planning a Secret?"

"You're the one doing the planning." Ianto said, closing his book and looking across at Harry, "So someone else would have to be your Secret Keeper."

Harry looked exactly like he had just mentally sworn. Sirius imagined it involved Hippogriffs, just for fun.

"I'm already a Secret Keeper." Jack said, "And so's Ianto... you can only ever do it for one thing at a time."

Harry scowled a second longer, then turned to look at Ron on his right, then Hermione on his left.

"No way, mate!" Ron protested, "This is too big for me!"

"Ron sleep-talks, anyway." Owen muttered, "He also sleep-walks into the wrong dorms sometimes." he added for clarification.

"Oi!" Ron protested.

"Tap-dancing spiders!" Owen snapped back. Ron cringed.

Harry stared between the two for a second, while Tosh giggled, Gwen tilted her head to the side in surprise, Hermione rolled her eyes, and Sirius outright laughed.

"I'm not going to say what I'm thinking." Jack muttered, smirking.

"None of us want you to." Ianto assured him.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"I suppose I could." She said thoughtfully, "It's not like I'm going to be safe from him anyway, being Muggle-born and all. I certainly wouldn't go telling anyone else, unless you asked me to."

"And proved you're you, for that matter." Gwen added bluntly, "Polyjuice is all the rage, I hear."

"Tastes like-" Jack began, but Ianto put his hand over Jack's mouth very quickly.

"We do not want to hear what Malfoy tastes like." Ianto explained.

"We _really _ don't." Ron agreed vehemently.

Jack bit, and as soon as Ianto let him go he said, "There is a correlation."

Ron stared blankly for about a second, before horror and disgust washed over him, "_Ewww!_" Harry pulled a revolted face, as well. Hermione blinked, looking like she was desperately trying not to laugh.

"What?" Owen asked, staring from the two senior boys to Hermione and back again, "What's funny?"

"We took Polyjuice potion in our second year, to impersonate Crabbe-" she indicated Ron who mimed retching, "-Goyle-" she indicated Harry, whose disgusted expression distorted even further, "-and Millicent Bullstrode." she indicated herself, "Though I only got cat hair in mine. But we've heard the rumours about you and Malfoy, we all know what you just as good as said."

"Disgusting!" Ron whimpered.

"So Crabbe and Goyle..." Ianto started slowly, turning to look at Jack. "Well that can't be legal." Jack shrugged.

"Huh?" Harry asked, confused.

"They were the fourteen different first-year-girls loitering up in the seventh floor outside the D.A. room for the first half of the year." Jack explained.

"I have _no _ idea what you're all talking about, you know that, right?" Sirius asked.

"Be thankful." Gwen said, trying very hard not to laugh.

"Jack just compared the taste of Polyjuice potion to the _taste _ of the actual person you turn into when you take it." Owen answered brightly. The emphasis on the word 'taste' was all Sirius needed to draw his conclusion.

"You mean like sex? Okay, that makes some sense." Sirius said, giving Jack a sideways look, "Malfoy? Really?"

"He's just as selfish in bed as everywhere else." Jack announced.

Ianto rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh... which Sirius found odd, considering those two were a couple, weren't they?

"We really didn't need to hear that." Harry said flatly.

"And I didn't actually mean that in an explicitly sexual way." Jack said, looking like he had certainly found it amusing anyway, "I meant the potion tasted like an amplified version of a combination of his skin and natural scent."

Ianto promptly turned around and licked Jack's ear, looked thoughtful for a second, then nodded, "You know, you've just given me an idea."

"_EEEEWWWWW!_" Ron and Owen both cried in horror, while everyone else laughed.

x x x

Jack stood by the barrier between platforms nine and ten, at King's Cross. He wasn't as dubious now as he might have been a few years ago, that there actually might be something hidden here between the two. He had become used to that which even aliens couldn't explain simply being dismissed by the words 'a wizard did it'. Usually from Owen.

With Carol out of the picture, and his new boss a fair bit less vindictive, Jack had been able to take the time off to meet his future-self, without having to explain himself. It did make a nice change.

There were other people gathered here, waiting. No trains due for a couple of hours, from the two legitimate tracks... but obvious family groups loitering conspicuously, waiting for their children to get home from a school that officially didn't exist.

He got a few suspicious looks from some of them. A lone man lurking where children get out of school, he wasn't entirely surprised by the way they stared... nor did he give a damn, either.

He was just beginning to wonder if watching the wall was a good way to prevent the magic from working, when a group of kids appeared through it. Just walked right through, as if it was a hologram.

As the group dispersed and met up with separate parents, waving cheerfully goodbye to each other, a disgusted snort from a nearby man drew Jack's attention. Standing with a scrawny woman next to him, the fat man who had snorted looked like he wished to all that was holy that he could be anywhere but here.

A moment later, another group of teens poured out from the wall. Jack recognised his future-self among them, as well as his four friends. Two other boys and a girl where there, as well.

"I'll talk to my aunt, get her to help after the wedding." Ianto was saying brightly.

The black-haired boy with the glasses nodded, grinning. "Thanks."

"You better, we want to know what he's up to!" Owen laughed.

"Owen, you never want to know what anyone else is up to." Jack's future-self elbowed him.

"That's just you." Owen retorted, "I want in on everybody else's business."

"So we'll see you all at the Burrow, right?" the red-haired boy asked.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Jack's future-self laughed.

A loud and distinctly rude cough from the fat man drew their attention.

Harry looked around and saw them. He gave Jack an odd look, before shrugging, "I gotta go."

"Wish you could just come stay with us now." the red-head muttered.

"Now, Ron, we all know why Harry has to stay with his family." the girl explained patiently, "We'll see you soon, Harry." and she hugged the black-haired boy.

Jack stepped forward at this point, glancing briefly at Harry as he walked- as slowly as reasonably possible- past to get to his family. Jack really didn't see the resemblance.

"Max let me use the SUV." he told his future-self, "So you get to ride in style." Owen facepalmed melodramatically. Jack chose to ignore what he had obviously read into those words.

"You're Jack's father?" the girl asked.

Jack snorted, "Bit more complicated than that." his future-self said vaguely.

"Get off me, you blackguards!" a familiar voice shouted as another man appeared from the barrier to the magical train platform. Sirius Black ran over to them, turning and glaring as a pair of identical red-haired young men pursued him.

"Come on, Sirius!"

"It won't hurt!"

"We just need-"

"-a test subject."

And they did twin-speak. Wonderful.

"Not a chance!" Sirius laughed, "Go bother Creevey. He'll do almost anything for the right money."

"Almost." Jack's future-self pointed out, "I found out where he draws the line."

"_Ew ew ew!_" Owen whined.

"Where?" the twins asked together.

"Shut up, Owen. I am _not _ that depraved." Jack's future-self laughed, turning to the twins, "Go find out for yourselves."

"Well, paying for guinea-pigs is far easier than successfully hitting Sirius with a leg-locker." one twin reasoned.

"We can afford it."

"And Creevey's Muggle-born... they do sometimes react differently. Better to make sure it works for everyone."

At just that moment, two boys emerged from the wall. "Oh, Colin..." the twins approached the pair of boys.

"What?" the elder of the two asked.

"We've got a business proposition for you."

"How would you like to be the first wizard ever-"

"-to test out our new and improved-"

"-levitation elixir."

"Guaranteed to make you walk on air."

"Once we make sure there's no nasty side-effects, of course."

Colin thought about it for a second, "Twenty galleons. Ten extra for every negative symptom I end up getting."

"Fifteen, and another fifteen per side-effect."

"You're confident." Colin said, nodding approvingly, "Deal."

"Kid's a whore." Owen muttered.

"Shut it, Owen." Jack's future-self laughed.

"Hey, it could be worse." Sirius said, shrugging, "Those two have been working on far more dangerous products lately." Then he looked around, "Hey, where's Harry?"

"With his aunt and uncle." the girl answered.

"Damn, I didn't get to say goodbye."

"You'll see him again, in a few weeks." Ron said blithely, "He's safe there 'til his birthday."

"So..." Jack's future self said brightly, "Who wants to ride in an illegal, state-of-the-art vehicle, property of a top secret government organisation?"

"_SHOTGUN!_" Sirius shouted gleefully.

x x x

Torchwood Two was not exactly an orderly affair. No sleek high-rise office building. No expensive underground bunker. In fact, it was one man working out of his basement in Glasgow.

Archibald Hicks was unconventional even by the wizarding world's standards.

He was the madman with a walking stick who chased kids off his lawn. He was the man who wore a moomoo down the shops because it was comfortable. He was anti-social, a recluse, a hoarder, a stalker... and a bit of a genius. Not that he liked that word. Genius. That was what they called people like Albus Dumbledore. Archie was old enough to remember how that went, and it hadn't been fun.

Wiping Jack Harkness' memory after he had gone and bloody _told _ the greatest Dark Lord of that era that his nemesis fancied him... Archie had freakin' hated being the one designated to take the Captain out for drinks after that.

Mostly because everyone knew how _that _ ended when memory charms weren't involved.

On the bright side, it _had _ helped to resolve the conflict. Not that anybody talked about the argument before the duel... except whoever was blabbing to that Skeeter wench. Archie liked her new book. it made excellent toilet paper.

Now, however, there was a whole other pile of crap to deal with.

Voldemort was up to no good, as per usual. Archie had been doing his homework, and found out that he was recruiting not only the werewolves and giants that the Ministry were on to now. Not only was he bargaining with the Dementors. No, now he'd gone and found some of Earth's less-friendly illegal visitors, assumed they were hitherto undiscovered magical creatures, and started recruiting them as well.

It was Cardiff's fault. Death Eaters had only ever bothered to set foot in that city because of Torchwood Three, and then they had stumbled across a family of alien refugees living there. It was easy to mistake something the Ancient Egypt had worshipped for magical.

These wasn't just any old aliens, either. It was a family of known serial killers, who had managed to behave themselves since claiming asylum on Earth. If it were up to Archie, he'd have just handed them over to the Shadow Proclamation. Still, at least Torchwood One and Three had the sense to keep tabs on them... but wizards had good stealth. They had gone missing, and mysterious deaths resembling their unique talents and technology had now been attributed to the Death Eater agenda.

Two plus two equalled four.

Archie picked up the phone and dialled.

"This better be important."

"Nice to hear you, too, Harkness." Archie sniped at the familiar voice. With two of them running around, he had listened extra-carefully, and was quite sure this was the adult version. "Shut up and listen to this."

"I'm kind of busy, right now." Harkness protested. A muffled voice in the background Archie couldn't make out, and Harkness asked, "Can it wait?"

"No. Leave the poor innocent creature you're molesting alone, and listen up."

He could practically hear the pout, as Harkness muttered, "He's not innocent. He's me."

"To much information." Archie said flatly.

"Who is it?" the almost identical, but still (only just) recognisably younger, voice of Jack's other self asked.

"Archie."

"Tell him I need an armoured tank."

"He's as bad as Ace." Archie muttered, staring into space for a second, "If he blows up Hogwarts, you've both got to answer to me, y'hear?"

"Why do you need a tank?" the elder Jack asked, evidently amused.

"Element of surprise." the younger one said brightly.

"Look, both of you shut up and listen!" Archie snapped. God, one Jack Harkness was bad enough. Two of them together... it was worse than that weekend Archie had spent with the Prewett brothers.

Silence echoed across the phone line.

"Good. Now, I've got it on fair authority that there's a pack of Ristasi nobles joined the Death Eaters."

"Why?" both of them asked him at once.

"Because Lord Smarty-Pants thinks they're magic. Any sufficiently advanced technology and all that bull. Except we know how Ristasi operate."

"Let them." Jack's younger self said darkly, "He deserves it."

"Hold on, the four of us spying on your phone call don't know how Ristasi operate." another male voice interrupted.

"Who's this?" Archie demanded.

"Owen Harper at your disservice."

"Get off the line!" Archie snapped.

"Owen-" the elder Jack said sharply, "Ristasi basically use 'lesser' species to gain power... but once someone outlives their usefulness, they get... disposed of in very interesting ways."

"You know the tombs in Egypt?" younger Jack asked, "Half the curses on them are Ristasi torture technology. The other half, I hear, are really made by wizards?"

"A good curse-breaker can get past Ristasi as well." Archie explained, disgruntled, "But yeah, basically."

"So... tell Gringotts what Voldemort is doing?" another voice suggested. Female, this time.

"Tosh has a point." Jack- adult-Jack- observed, "They can probably handle it just as well as Torchwood, plus they know the Death Eater M.O."

"Fair enough." Archie said, nodding slowly, "I'll make a call. And Harkness... please never answer the phone when you're... 'busy' again. Kay?"

"You're just jealous." younger-Jack laughed.

"You're just sick. Hanging up now."

x x x

As the phone line cut off, Owen doubled over laughing. "I thought that's what he was doing in there!"

"Shut up, Owen." Ianto said flatly. The other two were also trying not to laugh. Gwen was failing.

"Admit it, Owen." Tosh said, grinning, "If you could do yourself, you would."

Owen pondered it thoughtfully, not denying it. Gwen stared at thin air, also thinking about this idea, and after a second she blurted out, clearly unintentionally, "Maybe a three-way."

"With who?" Owen demanded.

"Me, me, and Rhys." Gwen chirped.

Tosh giggled. Ianto scowled, "It's easy for you to laugh." he said, "How'd you like it if your lover was ignoring you for something like that?"

"Don't do relationships, me." Owen shrugged.

"I'd ask to join in." Tosh answered almost immediately. Owen looked up at her, "Oh yeah?"

"Well, yes. Why not?" she asked.

Ianto promptly stood up and walked right into the bedroom. Tact could just go fuck itself.

What he found there was not what he expected at all.

The two versions of Jack had been arguing quite heatedly- if entirely in whispers- and there was a pile of something burned and smoking in the middle of the floor. They way they both shut up and backed off when he entered the room was suspicious to say the least.

"What's going on?" Ianto asked warily, "Weren't you two...?"

"We just said that to mess with Archie." past-Jack said with a shrug.

"He's too easy to tease." Jack added with a nod.

"Then what-?" Ianto asked, confused now.

"We had a time paradox." Jack admitted sheepishly, as if this sort of thing was incredibly embarrassing.

"The coats..."

"The paradox rule that scared the hell out of us when he slapped me before... basically states that the same matter can't meet in time."

"So basically... boom."

"Pretty much."

Ianto shook his head to dispel the disturbing feeling of listening to them talking together like that. He looked quite deliberately at _his _ Jack, "So that smoking mess there...?"

"Is the result of a time paradox destroying two antique World War II greatcoats." past-Jack answered.

"Or one, twice, if you want to look at it that way." his Jack added.

"You blew up the coat?" Ianto asked darkly.

"I was just trying it on." Jack defended.

"I actually _was _ trying to flirt with him." past-Jack admitted.

"Then when the coats touched..."

"You blew up the coat." Ianto repeated with exasperation.

"Now we _need _ a replacement." Jack said flatly, "Otherwise we'll be in even more trouble."

"Because if I don't wear it when he did..."

"Then it's possible that detail could alter the course of the timelines."

"Yeah... people tend to notice the coat." Ianto agreed with a tone of irony. He certainly had noticed the coat.

"Only, our time travel devices are broken." Jack pleaded, "And I know you've found a replacement before."

"I was very lucky." Ianto pointed out, "And to be fair, I found a _repair _ shop, not a replacement, otherwise this problem wouldn't have happened in the first place, would it?"

"He's got a point." past-Jack observed.

"Please, Ianto?" Jack begged.

"You'd be lost without me." Ianto said, smirking darkly.

"Yes, yes I would." Jack agreed, approaching him and taking his hands gently, meeting his eyes. "So... new coat?"

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Yes, Jack. New coat. On one condition."

"Anything." Jack said eagerly.

"I get to play with it."

x x x

Sirius Black was on a mission of vital importance to the Order... and it was a bloody _awful _ mission.

He had to play by the rules, fighting with quill and parchment instead of wands and curses, through the Ministry of Magic's totally irrational legal system. Facing off against the cadre lawyers formerly employed by the Malfoy line- unholy demons, the lot of them, Sirius would swear to it- and worse, Gringotts goblins.

He was contesting ownership of the Black family fortune.

Mostly because he wanted to spite his darling cousin Bella... but also because to be frank and honest, the Order needed bribe-money to compete with the Death Eaters on a poltical-subterfuge level. They left the plotting of this point up to Lucius Malfoy of all people, because... well, Lucius Malfoy _was _ the expert at corrupting government officials. He even deigned to admit as much to them, now that they were kind of on the same side.

Getting the money to use would be the hard part.

It wouldn't have been so bad, if the Malfoy family hadn't made a very dumb move in allowing Voldemort access to their home and property. As his servants- Sirius _loved _ to use the word 'slaves' for it around them- they had been given no choice but to do so.

The day they defected they had been informed by a very unfortunate goblin that their vaults had been cleaned out completely. Millions of galleons. _Millions_. Gone.

Sirius could compete if he could win this battle. He _had _ succeeded in convincing the goblins to seal the vault against Bellatrix, but he was now fighting for both the right to access it himself and the right to _keep _ her out. It could take a while, and it was certainly taking up all of his free time with court appointments.

So it was that when he was offered an opportunity to duck out of an actual _fun _ mission- the kind with a good chance of violence and curse-fights- in order to get some much-needed sleep, he hadn't put up any kind of argument.

So Jack Harkness had volunteered to take his place.

What was the worst that could happen?

x x x


	94. Escape From Privet Drive

x x x

**Chapter 94: Escape From New York- Er, Sorry, Privet Drive**

x x x

Harry had carefully organised and packed his things. Separated into a trunk full of stuff he didn't really need, and a backpack full of essentials. Actually, there had been more essentials than backpack, but Hermione had taught him how to do an extending charm on containers, and had helped (read supervised) him cast it on the backpack.

It contained changes of clothes, a few potions (which he had the sense to acquire from Owen rather than trying to make himself). The note from R.A.B., the Half-Blood Prince's book, and a few other tomes on dark magic that he had found in Dumbledore's office and not yet had the time to read.

He wore the commlink, hardly ever took it off these days.

He was waiting now. Today was the day. They had told him to expect an escort to a safe place, this evening.

"Oi! You!" Vernon Dursley's voice yelled up the stairs. Harry promptly opened the door and leaned over the banister. ""Get down here. I want a word!"

Harry used to be scared of that tone. Not anymore. He shrugged dismissively, and wandered down the stairs at his own pace. "Yes?"

"Sit down!" Harry just stared back, and after a second Vernon gave in and reluctantly added, "Please."

Harry did as he was told, though only because it would make it take less time for his Uncle to get around to actually saying anything other than insults.

"I've changed my mind."

"What a surprise." Harry said flatly.

"Don't you take that tone-" Aunt Petunia began angrily.

"It's all a lot of claptrap." Vernon insisted, "I've decided I don't believe a word of it. We're staying put, we're not going anywhere. According to you, we- Petunia, Dudley, and I- are in danger. From- from-"

"Wizards." Harry said flatly.

Vernon fumed, and Harry saw the point where he would normally have flown into a rage. He knew that he was being watch, it was probably the only reason he hadn't physically struck Harry for using that word in his presence.

After a moment of seething, Vernon continued angrily, "Well I don't believe it. I was awake half the night thinking it all over, and I believe it's a plot to get the house."

"The house?" Harry laughed, "What house?"

"This house! Our house! House prices are skyrocketing around here! You want us out of the way and then you're going to do a bit of hocus pocus and before we know it the deeds will be in your name and-"

A sharp rapping on the door drew their attention. Probably a good thing, too. Harry wasn't sure how much further he could push Vernon, and he had just opened his to insult him again.

Vernon, still seething, stalked out into the hall and threw the door open with a bang. A somewhat familiar American voice greeted Vernon, "Mr Dursley. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Captain Harkness, I'm here on behalf of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. We're aiding in your relocation."

Harry peered around the corner, grinning. Yep, this was the man who had greeted Jack at the train station, only now instead of an RAF greatcoat he was wearing a too-neat black suit.

Jack had kind of hinted that he, and this man, were actually the same person... with time travel.

"As I'm sure you've been told-" Jack spoke, with an air not only of authority but of cool and calculated efficiency, "-a known terrorist named Tom Riddle has been responsible for several attacks against families and educational establishments in the last eighteen months, and we have reason to believe your nephew- and therefore, by proxy, yourselves- are in danger."

Vernon gaped, "But- but you're-"

"U.S. military. Anti-terrorist division." Jack answered, showing credentials, "If you want my references, you can call any one of these numbers." He handed Vernon a piece of paper, real Muggle paper printed with an official-looking letterhead.

"You're military?" Dudley asked warily.

"Yes, I am." Captain Jack said with a nod to him.

"So you shoot people?" Dudley asked.

Jack opened his mouth to answer, decided it best not to say the first thing that came to mind, and instead asked, "Have you seen the movie, Eraser?"

"Yeah!" Dudley said gleefully.

"That's my job."

"So you're going to be our protection?" Vernon asked sceptically.

"We have a team of people, to make sure you're properly looked after." Jack assured him.

"What about...?"

"Wizards?" Harry asked again, smirking. Vernon glared at him.

"In light of your opinion of the Magical community, we decided it would be better if they weren't directly involved. Besides, _we _ can relocate you anywhere in the world, while they only have authority in Britain. I hear you like Majorca?"

Petunia definitely perked up at that suggestion.

"Do you get cool weapons?" Dudley asked.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss those details." Jack said, smirking, "But if you're really interested, I could get you some information about work experience, and job opportunities for graduates. You'd need excellent grades, though."

Dudley nodded eagerly, "Yeah! Mum, can I?"

Petunia shifted uneasily, "Well... we'll see. _If _ you get the grades."

"UNIT is a specialist organisation, Ma'am." Jack explained, "We only take the best of the best." He turned to Vernon now, "If you're ready, we'd best not waste any time. Your plane leaves in two hours."

When Harry followed the Dursleys outside, he saw an SUV and two motorcycles parked outside, all lacking any registration numbers or identifying marks. By the SUV he recognised Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle looking somewhat uncomfortable in black Muggle suits. The three of them were all dressed like American secret service, or something.

On the motorbikes were men in black military uniforms with red berets and sunglasses. Harry had _never _ seen this kind of thing in real life, only in the movies... and he got the feeling that was how it should be.

Jack stopped beside him, while the soldiers helped the Dursleys load their belongings into the car.

"Technically, now I owe UNIT a huge favour." Jack said amicably, "I might have hinted I had information they wanted, which I don't really have. On the bright side, your friends over by the SUV can always just make UNIT forget why they spent resources in Majorca this summer."

Harry snickered at this, "So it's true, then?"

"Aside from the part where I said no wizards... yes. Not only are there two members of the Order of the Phoenix there, but we've got four of my other-self's former classmates, invisible and flying... just in case."

"Who, exactly?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Their names are Bole, Derrick, Stroulger and Urquhart."

"You... got half the Slytherin Quidditch team... on brooms... to defend my wizard-hating relatives?" All Beaters, too, Harry realised.

"The civilised half, so I'm told."

"Better be. If I hear about any accidents involving my family and Bludgers... well, you won't like the results."

Jack chuckled at that.

"So... who're UNIT?"

"Muggle military, covert operations dealing with extra-terrestrial threats... but they have a habit of thinking if it's abnormal it's their business, so they were easy enough to convince."

"Will they help us?" Harry asked, surprised.

"If there's any way they'd be useful, yes. To be honest, against Death Eaters... not so much."

"Were you serious about recruiting Dudley?"

"It's not my call to make, but UNIT do like people with experience of the abnormal. He counts, don't you think?"

"He'd hate it." Harry said flatly.

At this point, Harry noticed that the subject of their discussion was staring at them. Jack saw it, too. "He wants to talk to you. Shall I distract his parents?"

"I'd rather not deal with him, right now."

"It might be the last time you ever see him... and he is family, Harry."

Harry sulked a bit for that, then nodded slowly, "Alright, then. When you put it like _that_."

Jack nodded efficiently, and walked over where Vernon was struggling with a particularly heavy case. Dudley's case, by the look of it, which if Harry remembered correctly contained weight-lifting equipment. Jack lifted the case single-handed, into the car with no trouble.

True to their expectations, Dudley used the distraction to approach Harry.

"You're not coming with us?" Dudley asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Why not?"

He hesitated for a moment, before answering honestly if reluctantly, "I have to fight him."

"Why?" Dudley asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Because I'm supposed to be the only one who can stop him. That's why he wants me dead, and why you'd be collateral damage at best... or a bargaining chip at worst."

"This guy's really tough, and you're meant to beat him?" Dudley asked, flexing his over-developed arm-muscles a bit. Harry resisted the urge to back away, but only just. Most of that development had been worked out on punching Harry.

"I don't buy it either, but someone has to try." Harry admitted.

The silence between them stretched uncomfortably for several long seconds, before Dudley finally spoke again, much more quietly this time, "You saved my life. Back when those things attacked us."

"Not really. It was your soul the Dementor would have taken." Harry said, adding as an afterthought, "Which is worse, really."

"I just... wanted to say thanks, I guess." Dudley said.

"Why?" Harry asked, shocked, "I really didn't think you cared, Dudley."

Dudley looked shifty for a second, glancing over his shoulder to see that Jack was talking to his parents and the two wizards there. Telling a story, by the look of it, as their car was now all packed.

When Dudley finally spoke, it was in a hushed whisper, "Promise you won't tell dad."

Harry was surprised by this turn to the conversation, but he never liked Vernon and even if he ever saw the man again he wouldn't tell him the time of day let alone some big secret. So he immediately agreed, "I promise."

"About a week after those Dementor things attacked... I made stuff break without hitting it. Think it was... y'know..." his voice lowered to the quietest of hushed whispered as he said the last word, "Magic."

Harry was sceptical, "Really?"

"Can do it on purpose now... see." he looked at the wall to his left, and when Harry followed his line of sight, a fist-sized dent appeared.

Harry grinned, eyes lighting up at this, "That's... that's brilliant."

"So I figure, dad's got to be wrong, hasn't he? You're not a freak. Not if I can do it, too."

"I suppose that's one way to learn tolerance." Jack said, appearing behind Dudley, "It's time to go, now."

Dudley nodded, giving Jack a wary look, but then he held out his hand to Harry, "See you, Harry."

Warily, Harry accepted the offered handshake, "Take care, Big D."

x x x

Jack had always wanted to do this... and now he had the chance. He was a bit disappointed at having to ride in the side-car, but a flying motorbike is still a flying motorbike. Far more of a thrill than a broomstick, purely because of the powerful engine involved. Magic is too quiet, smooth and civilised, sometimes.

As he climbed out of the sidecar and Hagrid lumbered towards the front door of Number Four Privet Drive, Jack stared wistfully at the bike itself. He vowed that one day he would get that powerful piece of machinery between his legs, if he had to outlive everyone who had a right to it first.

Everyone had arrived together, and on time... made a nice change.

Jack strolled into the house after the Weasley twins, and settled on one of the not-as-comfortable-at-they-look chairs in a room that looked like it was designed to be too-tidy-to-live-in.

Once everyone was done mobbing Harry with hugs and other forms of excitable greetings, Hagrid was the first to actually speak, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"

"Definitely." Harry cheered, "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!"

"Change of plan." Alastor Moody grumbled, dropping two large sacks of clothes on the floor.

"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" Harry asked.

"He can get along without me for one night," Kingsley Shacklebolt, whom Jack had only just been introduced to this evening, answered, "You're more important." Jack liked his attitude.

"Harry, guess what?" Tonks said gleefully, waving her left hand at him so her wedding ring glinted in the light.

"You got married?" Harry asked, looking predictably at Lupin. It didn't take either a genius or unnatural sense of pheromones to have figured it out. _Owen Bloody Harper _ had noticed those two were in love, when he saw them at the funeral.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be there, Harry." Lupin said, "It was very quiet."

"That's brilliant, congrat-"

"All right, all right, we'll have time for a cozy catch-up later." Moody snapped, "As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable offence to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really done is to stop you getting out of here safely. Second problem: You're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on you."

"I don't-" Harry began.

"The Trace, the Trace!" Mad-Eye snarled impatiently, "The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters."

Jack raised his hand, "For the record, we proved it doesn't work on me."

"You're just the exception to every rule, aren't you, Harkness?" Moody growled at him, "Care to tell us why, yet?"

Jack shrugged, smirking unrepentantly, "Nope."

Moody tuned back on Harry, "We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you'll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short, Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."

"So what are we going to do?" Harry asked.

"We're going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace can't detect." Moody announced, "Because we don't need to cast spells to use them: brooms, Thestrals, and Hagrid's motorbike. Now, your mother's charm will only break under two conditions: when you come of age, or you no longer call this place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight, in the full understanding that you're never going to live together again, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"So this time, when you leave, there'll be no going back, and the charm will break the moment you get outside its range. We're choosing to break it early, because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and seize you the moment you turn seventeen. The one thing we've got on our side is that You-Know-Who doesn't know we're moving you tonight. We've leaked a fake trail to the Ministry: They think you're not leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we're dealing with, so we can't rely on him getting the date wrong; he's bound to have a couple of Death Eaters patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case. So, we've given a dozen different houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place we're going to hide you, they've all got some connection with the Order: my house, Kingsley's place, Molly's Auntie Muriel's... you get the idea."

"Yeah." Harry said.

"You'll be going to Tonks's parents. Once you're within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we've put on their house you'll be able to use a Portkey to the Burrow. Any questions?"

"Er- yes." Harry said, "Maybe they won't know which of the twelve secure houses I'm heading for at first, but won't it be sort of obvious once... fourteen of us fly off toward Tonks's parents?"

"Ah." Moody nodded, "I forgot to mention the key point. Fourteen of us won't be flying to Tonks's parents. There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house."

Moody pulled out a flask of Polyjuice potion, and Harry startled like he had pulled a gun, "No!" he yelped, "No way!"

"I told them you'd take it like this." Hermione said casually.

"If you think I'm going to let six people risk their lives-!"

"-because it's the first time for all of us." Ron interrupted.

"This is different, pretending to be me-"

"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry." Fred said in all mock seriousness, "Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."

"Funny, really amusing." Harry sniped.

"If it has to come to force, then it will." Moody insisted, "Everyone here is responsible for their own choices, Potter, and they're all prepared to take the risk."

"You know, I tried to suggest making you look like one of us..." Jack pointed out, "But Moody won that argument."

"How?" Harry asked, frowning at Moody.

"Because it'd narrow the target range, now wouldn't it?" Moody snarled, "If there's seven of you, they have to split seven ways. Two Tonkses and they'd only split up once."

"You know... I like the way he worded that." Jack muttered. Harry glared at him.

"And he wouldn't take 'leave the matching one of us behind' as an option, either. Too dangerous, he said." Jack continued, "They'd blow up the house and certainly kill whoever stayed behind, he said. I tried to convince him that was a good idea. He nearly cursed me."

Harry rolled his eyes, but then hesitated and turned to frown at Jack, "What about you? You're underage as well."

Jack shrugged, "I can take care of myself."

Moody grinned crookedly, "Yeah, after what he did to Lestrange, I figure he's up to scratch. Better'n Mundungus, at any rate. Besides, of all the bloody ludicrous things, he went and got _parental consent _ to be here!"

Jack grinned and winked at Harry. Harry got it... the so-called 'parent' was still Jack. That was all he wanted to understand, because thinking any more than that about time travel just did his head in.

"So, Potter. Some of your hair, if you please."

Harry reluctantly pulled out a bit of hair from his head, and dropped it into the potion Moody offered. It turned a bright shining clear golden colour.

Hermione covered her mouth, grinning. Ron pulled a face, and Jack smirked in a way that made Harry blush furiously.

"Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please." Moody ordered. Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Fleur and Jack all lined up where he told them to.

Moody gave out the potion to each one of them in turn, and within moments there were six other Harry Potters standing in a row in front of him.

"Wow, we're identical!" Fred and George crowed together.

"I dunno, though, I think I'm still better-looking." Fred said, preening a bit.

"Bah!" Fleur cried, "Bill, don't look at me! I'm 'ideous!"

Moody announced to the group of them, "Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I've got smaller here, and vice versa. Don't forget the glasses, there's six pairs in the side pocket. And when you're dressed, there's luggage in the other sack."

Surprisingly, in the midst of everyone making rude remarks about everything from Harry's eyesight to his taste in underwear, Jack remained silent. Smirking infuriatingly, but silent.

After a moment, during which Fred and George playfully argued over which pair of boxers was whose, Harry asked him, "What's so funny?"

"I'm not laughing." Jack answered, still smirking. Harry stared at him expectantly. "You should take my silence as a compliment."

Harry suddenly _got _ it, and stared in mortified embarrassment. Especially as he realised that _all six of them _ now knew _that detail _ about him.

Jack shrugged and then turned around and demanded that the boxers the twins were fighting over where his, and "How dare you two try to get into my pants without buying me a drink first!"

"I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo." he overheard Ron muttering.

A few more minutes passed, as the six doppelgangers proceeded to change their clothes with very little regard for Harry's privacy. His own image wearing nothing but Fleur Delacour's frilly panties was _not _ something he had _ever _ wanted to witness.

Nor, apparently, had Bill, who was adamantly looking anywhere else, while assuring her, "At least you don't have his personality... I'd be bored!"

"You clearly don't know his personality that well, Bill!" Jack retorted, "Don't worry, Fleur, I still think you're gorgeous."

Harry rolled his eyes, "That's _my _ body you're all talking about, you know!"

"And it's gorgeous. Can I keep it?" Jack asked, smirking.

"No." Harry snapped, "And stay away from Malfoy!"

Ron and Hermione both stifled horrified laughter, "Harry! Don t encourage him!" Hermione cried.

Jack rolled his eyes, pulling the glasses out of his pocket and putting them on. They were all changed and ready now, and Jack stepped up to Harry himself, face-to-face. It was very disconcerting with the Polyjuice, almost like looking in a mirror, really. "Alright, Harry. A Death Eater attacks you, what's your first reaction? What spell do you cast?"

"Expelliarmus." Harry answered immediately.

"Blocked. Next?" Jack asked quickly.

"Stupify."

"Next?"

"Er-" Harry hesitated, those were his favourites. the ones he was best at. "Petrificus Totalus."

"They shoot at you while you're flying, what do you do?" Jack asked, still incredibly fast. It was so businesslike... professional, even. A total contrast to the inappropriate jokes of less than a minute ago.

"On a broom?" he asked, and then explained quickly, "Er..." he thought about it, mostly because his reactions on a broom were pure instinct. After going through the scenario in his head a couple of times, he answered, "I'd dodge, downward spiral, to the left."

Jack nodded, grinning, "Don't do any of that. Pick different offensive spells. It might slow you in a fight, but believe me it'll help us all out there."

Harry frowned, "Why?"

Moody stepped forward, "Because they've fought you before, Potter. They'll know your style."

Jack nodded, "Now, I'm taking the Firebolt." he said bluntly, picking it up and setting it to hover next to him, "If you don't mind?"

"M-mind?" Harry stammered, confused, "Why are you-?"

"Harkness here has volunteered to be Decoy Number One." Moody explained, "He'll be with me, on your broom, and while you'll not be firing off any of those three spells you just named- unless you want to see the real me Transfiguring a student, first hand- he's gonna be using them all. In order."

"That's incredibly dangerous." Bill Weasley exclaimed, shocked.

"Isn't he a bit young to be risking life and limb, anyway?" one of the Weasley twins asked. Harry hadn't known which was which before the Polyjuice, and only recognised them now because they had remained seated together this entire time.

Jack snorted, "You two know I can handle it." he said dismissively, before looking right at Harry with a cocky grin, "Can't I?"

Harry blinked, "Yeah. Yeah, if any of you are going to be dumb enough to be that obvious about it, Jack's the only one of you lot dumb enough to live through it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, there." Jack said brightly, sitting on the broom, even though they were indoors. He floated upwards slowly, "It's not as sensitive as mine..." he muttered, "Bet it's faster, though."

Harry scowled at that. Jack was clearly insinuating something there, and he tried very hard to pretend he hadn't heard it. "So who am I going with, then?"

Hagrid cleared his throat, "That'll be me."

x x x

As they took off from Privet Drive, a number of Death Eaters Apparated in around them. Moody took point, firing several curses as he as good as cut right through them. Jack followed, pushing the unfamiliar broomstick to full speed, and weaving between a pair of Death Eaters. One fired at him and he nose-dived, turning left as he did so.

It took a great deal of concentration _not _ to fly the way he had done before. He _knew _ that he hadn't fooled anyone with his impersonation of Draco's flying abilities. Everyone had said afterwards that 'Draco' had been flying off-form the day he 'died'.

He pulled up and turned so he could see his attacker. "Expelliarmus!" he yelled. It was predictably blocked. He wondered why Harry even favoured that spell. All it takes to stop it is a firm grip. So he tried again with, "Stupify!"

This time it worked. And another Death Eater shouted out, "That's him, it's him, it's the real one!"

And suddenly they were gone. It was just Jack and Moody... although he could just about see the speck of a tail-light in the distance, from Hagrid's motorbike.

"Worked like a charm." Jack muttered to himself, ironically.

"Good lad, now fly like buggery!" Moody shouted.

Jack wasted absolutely no time thinking about Moody's choice of swear-words, instead simply turning around and zooming after Moody, out over the city as fast as the Firebolt could go.

After only a moment, his wrist strap beeped loudly. "Dive!" he shouted, and Moody did so without question. At the same instant two Death Eaters apparated on either side of Jack.

He slammed on the incredibly metaphorical breaks and then turned on the spot and shot up into the air. He was used to more manoeuvrability with his own broom, but the Firebolt could still pull it off. And the Death Eaters predictably followed.

Jack looped around and aimed for the nearest one, "Stupify!"

Missed. Tried again. Hit. One down. He went into a steep dive, and the remaining Death Eater once more followed him.

"You _really _ don't want a dogfight with me..." Jack muttered to himself, before turning his wand back along his arm, in such a way that he was aiming directly behind him, yet his pursuer couldn't even see that he was armed. Then he whispered, "Depulso."

The Death Eater had taken the bait and flown directly behind him. Jack hadn't even needed to look, but the aim was easily perfect- his pursuer had made it perfect themselves- and the poor gullible fool was sent falling to his doom.

"Better luck next time, minions." Jack said brightly, spotting Moody and levelling off a few feet above him, "Easy!" he crowed.

"You've got some ego, lad! I'll give you that!" Moody shouted as Jack allowed him to catch up.

Another beep. Someone else had just Apparated nearby. Jack looked around, but didn't see who it was. It was getting too dark. Shadows drifted across the formerly clear moonlight, making the whole sky seem eerie and threatening.

"Here comes trouble!" Moody announced, "Keep up!"

Jack did precisely the opposite, turning and diving down in the spiral Harry had told him was a trademark move. He heard _something _ following him. Then a flash of green light flew past, barely an inch to his left. He turned back up and came face-to-face with a truly hideous visage. None other than Lord Voldemort himself.

Jack closed his eyes and dived again, this time flying in a straight line. Worked once tonight, was worth trying again. He turned his wand back and whispered, "Rictusempra."

He glanced over his shoulder to see that Voldemort was still behind him. He tried again... a constant stream of whispered curses, trying to remember every one he knew, even the ones he wasn't any good at, "Reducto, Stupify, Depulso, Expelliarmus, Diffindo..." and when he ran out of debilitating and maiming, he even threw a few Unforgivables for good measure, "Crucio, Avada Kedavra."

The sound of his pursuer stopped. He looked behind him... and no one was there.

"Aww, that's so sweet." Jack crowed loudly, in a mocking baby-voice, "Little baby snake-face doesn't think his nemesis would really try to kill him."

He checked his wrist strap, and saw only one magical signature nearby. He flew towards it, and quickly found that it was, as he had expected, Moody.

"Where did you disappear off to, eh?" Moody demanded irritably, looking around as if more would appear any second. They were now both hovering over central London on broomsticks. On a clear night... just... sitting there.

"Firebolt's faster than whatever you're flying." Jack said with a shrug, "And he couldn't catch up to me. He got bored when I cast the Killing Curse at him, though. Might have broken character, there."

Moody stared at him for half a second, "You think?" Jack tried to look innocent. Moody sighed and took Jack's arm without another word. In an instant they were standing on solid ground in the middle of what appeared to be a marsh.

Moody led him two steps in a particular direction, and he felt the ripple of magical barriers around him a split-second before he spotted a rustic old building that could only have been held up by magic.

"Welcome to the Burrow, Harkness."

x x x


	95. Hey There Little Red Riding Hood

x x x

**Chapter 95: Hey There Little Red Riding Hood**

x x x

Azkaban was grim, cold and dark. There was only one consolation here. Order and efficiency. The building lived and breathed it.

The Dementors could suck out the happiness, but Dolores Umbridge had never thrived on joy. She thrived on order. Cold, ruthless, mechanical order. The other victims could howl all they wanted. As their unholy jailors glided past- six times a day, every four hours, you could set your watch to it- they were silenced.

Dolores' sense of order relished that silence, with no emotion only clarity.

There might be moments where she faintly remembered glee at a child's broken will. Pride at a properly filed list of rules. Contentment at uniform and calm.

Those memories evaporated quickly, and only the cold clarity of order and efficiency remained.

She had long lost count of how many days she had been here. Enough to understand the shifts and schedules perfectly, but prisoners were not allowed newspapers. Not after Sirius Black.

It was shortly before the 4pm guard patrol, when unscheduled sounds echoed from the lower levels.

Dolores did not approve, and stood slowly, approaching the door of her cell.

It took a few minutes for the perpetrators of the chaos to reach this level, and when a man in a hooded robe and mask stopped before her cell, she demanded, "What is the meaning of this?"

The man chuckled darkly, "It's called a jailbreak, lady." He sounded so young and impudent. Dolores deeply disliked him immediately. "If you want out, you gotta swear loyalty to the Dark Lord."

Dolores drew herself up to her full- if not particularly impressive- height, "I may well do that, but I shall most certainly not defer to a ruffian like you."

"Why you little-"

"Enough, Yaxley." a cold, calm voice hissed. The man- Yaxley- stepped back, bowing and scraping as another man- taller, thinner, emanating power and command with every movement- stepped into her view, "Dolores Umbridge. The mighty, fallen, Commandant of Hogwarts."

She was mildly surprised by the title- appointed in malicious jest by the mutinous students, no doubt- but she quite found she liked it.

"You will serve me, Dolores, or you will die this day."

"I take it, then, that you are the Dark Lord?" she asked, and he nodded slowly. Yes, he would certainly do, she thought. She bowed her head in as dutiful a manner as she was able. "The legends do not do you justice, My Lord."

"Flatter will get you nowhere." the Dark Lord hissed coldly. She was glad to hear it. The flattery was a mechanic of long years working amidst the vanity of the Ministry. It would be good to dispense with it. "I have a job for you."

x x x

Alastor Moody returned to his home fairly promptly after dropping Harkness off at the Burrow and checking that Potter was alive and well. Job done, mission complete, no casualties. One injury, but nothing irreparable. Overall, a success.

He must be getting old, tired out so easily these days. Everyone else had the energy to hang around and celebrate their victory. Even the injured party, once the bleeding had stopped, had started cracking jokes.

Bad ones, but it was the though that counted, really.

Alastor hobbled up the steps to his home, checking the monitoring and shielding spells on the building, for intruders. He just turned the key in the lock when an unnatural sound like tearing flesh and snapping bone echoed overhead and behind him.

He spun around, immediately alert as he looked up, wand drawn to defend himself.

A creature had appeared, tearing through the _sky itself_, leaving a silvery-red-edged rip in the fabric of the night in its wake. It was large, black with clawed, leathery wings, looking like some kind of cross between a dragon and a doxy, and twice times as vicious as both.

It swooped down towards him, but just as he opened his mouth to cast a curse at it... it stalled, shrieking as if in pain, and dissolved into golden light, sparkling like fairy dust before fading completely.

The tear in the sky sealed up with the same golden light, a second later, and the night was silent. As if nothing had happened.

Alastor shook his head, looking around suspiciously for any further signs of the untoward. When nothing happened, he quickly entered his house, slamming the door and locking all twelve bolts firmly.

Only then did he realise his hands were trembling and his heart racing, more than any curse-fight or battle in any war had caused in him before.

He was shaken deeply. As if he had just seen the visage of Death Itself.

And something had stopped it for him.

x x x

"He can't _really _ have been Godric Gryffindor!" Hermione protested loudly, drawing all attention to her, as the Torchwood teenagers wandered into the dining room of the Burrow. They had all been invited for the wedding, and with Sirius playing taxi they had spent the last few days, since Harry and Jack had arrived here, quite cheerfully coming and going as they pleased between this safe-house and their own flat. This place was much roomier and friendlier, so they ended up spending more time here.

"He was probably just being sarcastic, Tonks." Ron agreed.

The room already held Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Remus Lupin, Bill Weasley, and Fleur Delacour, all of whom seemed to have been listening with rapt attention to Tonks, before Hermione had interrupted.

"But he was wearing this red cloak, and he said-" Tonks began, laughing shakily, not quite sure where to go from there.

"Tonks, mate, Godric Gryffindor's gotta have been dead for at least nine hundred years." Ron put in, in a consoling tone that seemed to say 'you're going mad, but we still like you and want you to see reason'.

"I know a man that old." Jack said bluntly, settling himself between Tonks and Harry, at the table. He then gave Ron a pointed look, "What would you be saying if this mysterious stranger had called himself Salazar Slytherin?"

"Must be true, evil's always out for immortality, let's go hunt him down, skin him alive and feed him to the Nargles!" Owen cheered, with gleeful sarcasm.

Ron snorted derisively, but folded his arms defensively all the same.

"Nicholas Flamel was almost six hundred and sixty-seven when he died." Harry said softly, "It's not impossible."

"But still very improbable." Hermione added sternly. Harry shrugged.

"What'd this bloke do, anyway?" Owen asked, grinning.

"As you probably already know, we were called in to defend Hogwarts." Tonks began, in such a good story-telling tone that Jack wondered for a moment if she was related to Draco... before abruptly recalling Ianto's slightly disgusted explanation of how all the old wizarding families were _all _ related to each other on some level. "This was the night Dumbledore was killed. When Voldemort and the Death Eaters showed up. Voldemort had just gone when Kingsley, Mad-Eye and I got there, and the Death Eaters were already running for the gates."

"There were about ten of them, and only six of us." Bill Weasley put in, "The Carrows, the Lestrange brothers, Jugson, Yaxley, Mulciber, Nott, Dolohov and Greyback."

"They surrounded us, had Bill and Dawlish disarmed before the rest of us got there." Tonks continued, frowning deeply as she remembered, "Then out of nowhere someone appeared in the middle of them, in a cloud of black smoke, throwing stunning curses all around."

"Well." Bill chuckled, elbowing her lightly, "We think they were stunning curses, all red light and that, but I'm not sure if that rash on Mulciber's face was there before or not."

Tonks barely avoided giggling out loud, but when she pulled herself together, she continued, "This man took on all ten of them at once, and he didn't even break a sweat. Knocked Greyback flat on his face, right as he was about to lunge at Bill. We couldn't see his face, only that he was wearing a red hooded cloak."

"Against Greyback? There's irony." a Weasley twin pointed out, as both sauntered in and sat opposite their elder brother. They must have been listening at the door for a while, already.

The other twin pointed at Bill, "You sure you're not just covering for being saved by a girl."

"Little Red Riding Hood... saved your ass from the big bad wolf!"

Jack shot them both a dark look for that, but didn't say anything. Remus Lupin, however, stared rather balefully at the twins for half a second, before speaking in a too-calm tone that made Ianto's 'I'm going to give you decaf now, Owen' voice seem positively cute and cuddly, "Do please mind your language, boys."

"Sorry Professor Lupin." they chorused, seeming entirely unrepentant.

Jack turned to stare at Lupin. There had been a very deliberate note to his reaction, and it seemed their words had upset him more than he was willing to let on.

Tonks rolled her eyes, "Look, it was definitely a man, okay? And he was wearing a red cloak with fancy gold trimmings. By the time the Death Eaters got to rally, he'd already stunned Amycus, both Lestranges, and Dolohov. Greyback, like I said. Mulciber got a shot off, this guy just stepped out of the way, casual as you please, then stunned him a wave of his hand. I swear, I didn't see a wand, just his hand!" She waved her left hand for emphasis.

"Impossible." Hermione said derisively.

"Technically, not." Ianto observed darkly, frowning at Tonks' hand as if it had told him something her words hadn't. "As long as you're making skin-contact with the wand, it'll still work. I scared the hell out of a group of seventh year Slytherins, last year, with the same trick. I just had my wand taped to my arm, under my robes. Even Harry's been doing it, since the D.A. reformed."

Harry nodded in agreement.

Jack got the uneasy feeling that this was not the only explanation Ianto knew for this scenario... just the one he was prepared to offer. This was one of Ianto's favourite ways to lie; present an alternative, usually more reasonable than the truth, and people tend to jump on it. It was eerily close to the way wizards lied to Muggles, about the existence of magic.

Tonks seemed to agree with Jack, frowning at this explanation, "But he didn't have sleeves."

"What _was _ he wearing under the cloak?" Owen sneered, somewhere between amused and disgusted at his own insinuation.

"Faded blue jeans and a t-shirt." Tonks said blankly, as if she just didn't get why Owen would employ that tone.

"Oh yes, Godric Gryffindor wears a t-shirt!" a twin laughed.

"I can see it now. It's gotta have the house emblem on it, too!" the other twin joined in.

"And a slogan! '_Gryffindors do it with pride_'!"

Owen fell over laughing.

Jack blinked, didn't miss a beat, and simply retorted, "'_Slytherins do it with style_'."

Gwen whimpered, trying not to laugh. Owen crowed louder. The twins directed equally challenging stares at Jack.

"Oh yeah, well '_Ravenclaws do it according to arithmantic formulae_'." the second twin said steadily.

Tosh blushed furiously at that one.

Jack grinned, his eyes darting noticeably to Ianto before he finished the verbal duel with, "And '_Hufflepuffs work it hard_'."

The twins both sat back as one, and then shrugged in perfect synch, "We're not done." The first twin said coolly.

"We just ran out of houses."

"I could keep this up for weeks." Jack said, smirking.

"Later." the second twin said with a still-challenging nod.

"He did proper wandless magic." Tonks said, now that _that _ was over, "Stunning spells at least. Nobody in this age can do that, but it was rumoured the Founders could."

"Well whoever he really is." Ianto said rather sharply, "He's clearly the enemy of our enemy. For now." The others gathered around the table slowly nodded. "But that doesn't mean we should trust the random stranger just because he shows up wearing red and gold."

x x x

It was quiet, now. The garden at the Burrow. Not many people bothered coming outdoors, especially at night.

Remus Lupin sat on an old stone wall, staring up at the waning crescent moon wistfully.

Since the conversation earlier, Jack had wondered enough about it to actually dare asking. He wasn't at all surprised that Lupin heard him approach, stones and grass crunched audibly underfoot, and he made no attempt to hide it. He only acknowledged Jack with a slight turn of his head, "Did you want something, Mr Harkness?" he asked politely.

Jack thought about it for a second, then finally asked, "You sent a letter to my legal guardian, in my first year. It implied something, and I wonder why you jumped to that conclusion?"

Lupin looked at him sharply. Was it Jack's imagination, or did he look paler, thinner than usual? Especially for this time of the month, so far from the full moon. "Your attitude was familiar." Lupin answered carefully.

"Seen it before?" Jack asked sceptically.

"Irreverent jokes are often a defence mechanism." Lupin said flatly, turning to look away again, "You were making jokes about something you were too young to understand, unless..."

"That's not an easy conclusion to jump to... unless you've been there." Jack said carefully.

No answer. No denial.

"Greyback?" Jack asked warily.

Lupin drew a deep breath, before answering very quietly. "Yes." A few seconds passed, where Jack wasn't entirely sure what to say next. Lupin saved him from having to be the one to speak first, "I still believe you're awfully young to be so perceptive."

"I've seen things." Jack said quietly.

"So I heard. Your... guardian... answered my letter." Lupin looked at him curiously, "I thought he was your father?"

"That would be too rational." Jack snorted, "So... he told you I was kidnapped?"

"Yes, he did."

Jack shrugged, "I'm good at putting things in the past that belong there." Sometimes it took him a while, but he was getting better at it. Sometimes he wondered if that was a good thing. "I'm over it... but I have learned from it."

The story, if his past-self had deigned to include the details, did include _witnessing _ atrocities far greater than the torture he had experienced. But he had heard from sources who had been through both... torture is _not _ comparable on any level to rape.

It was honestly one of those things Jack had trouble understanding. Not because he couldn't understand the resentment or the pain... but because he couldn't imagine himself in such a scenario. Hell, there had been moments when the _Master _ had been torturing him, that he thought the psychotic Time Lord was hot, and he wouldn't have said no.

Then again, he had also never met anyone who wanted to either hurt him or fuck him before he had been old enough to understand it. Everyone had known by the end of Jack's first year at Hogwarts, that Lupin had been bitten when he was seven.

"Did what the twins said-" Jack started to ask if this was the cause of Lupin's current dour mood- such a tactless reminder- but he was interrupted before he could finish.

"No. I'm used to worse. Sirius had a very bad habit, in his teens, of making inappropriate jokes on all subjects. Nothing was safe."

"I'll make a note to beat him at that game, sometime."

"You've already beaten the twins. They just won't admit it."

"You seem more upset than a few misplaced words should warrant." Jack observed warily.

Lupin hesitated a moment. The sidelong glance he gave Jack showed some uncertainty that he should even answer at all, but then, "I have to deal with it every day." he said with a sigh, "I've spent the last eight months infiltrating the Dark Lord's followers among the werewolf community, and Fenrir Greyback is their leader."

Jack stared at thin air, a slight sneer of disgust crossing his face as he even thought about it. "Yeah, I can see the problem there."

"Why am I telling you this?" Lupin asked, with a bit of a scowl.

"Because I'm smart and observant enough to figure it out anyway." Jack suggested, "And because you know I'm hiding other things, even if you don't know what, so odds are good I can keep it quiet."

"I hadn't thought of that, actually. I suppose it is reassuring." Lupin said thoughtfully, "What, exactly, did happen to you, if I may ask?"

"When I was kidnapped?" Jack asked. The steady gaze that met his questioning look answered yes without the need for words. "Just... beatings. Starvation. Most of it was psychological abuse, rather than physical." That was the edited version. The truth was a lot more... complicated.

"How old were you?"

"Nine." Jack lied casually. The truth was fourteen, but that wouldn't make sense at all, given the circumstances.

"If you had to face your attacker again, what would you do?" Lupin asked. It didn't sound at all like he was seeking advice. Not that most grown men would ask a teenager for advise about something like _this_. It seemed more like simple curiosity about how Jack had coped with his dark past.

Truth? He _did _ cross them again, and he had killed every last one of them, with cold and calculated cruelty. Back then, though, he had been with the Agency. He wasn't that man anymore. "I doubt I could face them and just pretend I was fine with it." he said evasively.

"No." Lupin said softly, after a few seconds, "I didn't lie about that."

"Best way to lie. Tell the truth... just not all of it." Jack agreed. He didn't really want to confront the subject directly... instead he was allowing Lupin to lead the conversation.

"I was lucky." Lupin said quietly, "Most of the other werewolves... their parents rejected them after they were bitten. Greyback only took them into his pack after they were abandoned or ran away from home. Twisted their minds, to make them think his way of doing things was right and normal. Some of them were as young as four and five when he turned them, they don't even remember what it's like to live in civilised society."

Jack stared off into space, remembering his own imprisonment. The creatures that had captured him were the same ones that years before had destroyed his home, killed his father, and had taken his brother. He had been lucky, too. Rape was one of their methods of torture- one he had witnessed- just not one they had got around to using against him before he had escaped.

He didn't like to think about it, so he pointedly chose not to, listening instead as Lupin continued to speak. "My parents accepted me. Even Dumbledore accepted me, fought the Ministry to let me attend Hogwarts. The other werewolves call me a freak. Housebroken. A lapdog." he looked to Jack, now, "I feel sorry for them."

"Does anyone else know? Outside Greyback's pack, I mean." Jack asked.

"No." Lupin admitted, "No one else seems quite as competent as you at identifying the exact nature of my childhood trauma. Which does still make me wonder about you."

"Blame the twins." Jack said flatly, "And your exact wording in your letter to my guardian. You strongly implied _he _ was responsible for my prodigious sense of inappropriate humour."

"It has been known to happen, in other families."

Jack frowned slightly, curious at that. In spite of his political leanings, Lupin was a pureblood, and ignorant of most Muggle social issues... and that narrowed his field of knowledge down quite a lot.

Jack doubted he would get details out of that vague allusion, if he asked, though.

"You should tell Tonks." he said simply. Even after she had gone and married Lupin, she kept her surname as a middle name, and used it determinedly in preference to a given name she refused to disclose. Some people actually seemed to think her full name was now Tonks Lupin.

Lupin looked at him sceptically.

"She is your wife." Jack pointed out, "Does she not deserve to know?"

"Perhaps." Lupin said edgily. Clearly he was afraid of her reaction.

Not unsurprising... Jack had much less shocking secrets he had yet to reveal to anyone he had ever loved, for fear of their rejection. He wasn't afraid of them rejecting who he was... but he had learned the hard way that most people had a bad habit of treating the distant past as relevant to the present in a way it just plain wasn't.

He didn't press the issue. Instead he glanced back at the building, "I think it's past my bedtime."

"Yes. You need to be here bright and early, tomorrow." Lupin reminded him.

"And acting like everything's right with the world for the next two days." First Harry's birthday... then Bill and Fleur's wedding. It wouldn't be right to bring up this kind of dark memory on either of those happy occasions. "I'll arrange for silencing spells on the twins."

"I don't think that's necessary." Lupin said with a weak smile, "But I appreciate the sentiment."

x x x


	96. It's Not You, It's My Enemies

x x x

**Chapter 96: It's Not You, It's My Enemies**

x x x

The day before the wedding was Harry's birthday.

That morning, Ginny and Gwen were in Ginny's room, talking. Gwen was chattering brightly about a Muggle bloke she fancied, called Rhys, while they tried to choose which of her three fancy dresses to wear to the party tonight and which to the wedding tomorrow. It would be rude not to wear her best dress for the wedding, but she wanted to wear something nice for Harry, too.

"Well you have to look proper for the wedding." Gwen pointed out.

"And for any moment mum's watching!" Ginny laughed.

"Yes, but you can wear red. Red's proper, as long as it covers everything, which your red dress does." Gwen pointed out, "It's even house pride. But it's _sexy _ house pride."

Ginny blushed, grinning, "But it looks totally frumpy. It's all baggy, and doesn't fit right." Mum had said 'you'll grow into it' when she bought it. Ginny had grown upwards enough, but not outwards enough for that dress... a detail for which she was, frankly, thankful.

"There's charms for that. They're in Witch Weekly."

"But we're not allowed to use magic outside of school." Ginny whined. The red dress wasn't even in her top three! She hadn't even considered it until Gwen had said that.

"True... but Fleur can." Gwen pointed out. Ginny pulled a revolted face. "She's going to be family, like it or not."

"But she's such a shallow little-" she didn't say the next word, purely because she had been brought up with better manners than that. Instead she growled a bit.

"And don't you think that means she'd know how to take in a dress?" Gwen asked slyly.

Ginny liked the way she thought.

x x x

When Harry made it down to breakfast, on the morning of his birthday, it was to find not only those (temporarily or otherwise) residing at the Burrow were present, but also Jack and three of his friends loitering by the kitchen sink.

"Hey, Harry!" Tosh greeted warmly, "Happy birthday! Owen would wish you the same, but he's not a morning person, and we had to Silence him to make sure he didn't do it in song."

Owen glowered at her, and Harry laughed. He had lived through Dudley growing up... after that, Owen's singing hadn't been as bad as everyone else had seemed to think.

Then Mrs Weasley bustled over to him, and directed his attention to a pile of presents on the table. "Arthur told me to wish you a happy seventeenth, Harry." she said brightly, "He had to leave early for work, but he'll be back for dinner. That's our present on top."

Harry took the present in question, and began to unwrap it as he sat at the table. Jack and his friends joined him at the table. Inside the shiny wrapping and small square box was a beautiful golden pocket watch.

"It's traditional to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age." Mrs Weasley explained nervously, "I'm afraid that one isn't new like Ron's, it was actually my brother Fabian's and he wasn't terribly careful with his possessions, it's a bit dented on the back, but-"

Harry didn't let her finish trying to explain away and apologise for something that was so brilliant. He quickly stood up and hugged her fiercely. As he turned back to the table, leaving Mrs Weasley cheerfully stunned, he noticed that Ianto and Jack were both looking at his new watch.

"I like this tradition." Ianto said brightly.

Owen tried to say something, but as he was Silenced, Harry had no idea what.

Jack just looked at the watch a bit strangely, then said quietly, "It is quite fascinating."

"You sound like you think there's something wrong with it?" Harry asked sceptically.

"I just think I need to be more interested in wizards, now." Jack muttered, sitting back.

"How so?" Tosh asked, frowning.

"Paranoia." Jack answered with a shrug, "You wouldn't want to understand."

Harry rolled his eyes, still far too happy with his gift to care about the peculiarities of his only Slytherin friend.

Footsteps racing down the stairs quickly turned into Hermione rushing into the kitchen and adding another present to the pile, "Happy birthday, Harry! It's not much, but I hope you like it." she turned to Ron, "What did you get him?" she asked brightly.

Ron guiltily ignored her. "Come on, then, open Hermione's!" he insisted too quickly. Harry knew exactly why Ron was being so evasive- he had given Harry a book on about '_Twelve Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches_'... and by the sudden smirk on Jack's face, he had a guess as well. Possibly a wildly inaccurate guess, but still.

Harry scowled at Jack, who promptly feigned innocence.

Then he opened Hermione's gift. It was a Sneakoscope.

"Thanks Hermione." he said brightly, even as the Sneakoscope began to spin on the palm of his hand. He looked around at the company he was keeping, and wasn't at all surprised. He held it out to Ron, and it sped up... turned it to Hermione, and it was still spinning fast. Holding it closer to Mrs Weasley made it promptly fall completely still.

And Jack made it spin really fast, start whistling like a boiling kettle, and flash bright red.

Owen silently fell into fits of laughter. "You have _no _ idea." Jack laughed brightly.

"He broke Gwen's." Ianto said flatly, "She left it in the same room as him for twenty-four hours, and it just exploded."

Bill and Fleur's gift was an enchanted razor, to which her father pointed out, "Ah yes, zis will give you ze smoothest shave you will ever 'ave, but you must tell it clearly what you want... ozzerwise you might find you 'ave a leetle less hair zan you would like..."

"I have the sudden urge to sic it on Draco Malfoy..." Ianto said flatly, causing every Hogwarts student in the room to laugh.

Fred and George gave Harry a box of their own creations. He got the feeling that _box _ could make the Sneakoscope explode, and all.

"I got you something too." Jack said, pulling an old string off from around his neck. Harry didn't recall seeing it before. "Well... it isn't really a gift. More like a loan. It's of great sentimental value to me, but I think its practical value would be better with you until the war is over."

"What is it?" Harry asked, confused. Hanging from the string was what looked like an ordinary Muggle key, except for some odd decoration that looked a bit like... well, Harry didn't have that much knowledge of Muggle technology, having never been allowed any toys of such a nature, but he did recognise circuitry from the time Dudley threw his Nintendo out the window.

"It's a perception filter. It's not magic, but it has a similar effect to Disillusionment charms... and while the evil satellite network that makes it foolproof won't exist for another decade or so, Tosh assures me that in spite of that your magic will ensure that the more you believe it's working, the better it works." Tosh nodded to emphasise her part in this conclusion.

Harry gave him a sceptical look, "Okay... thanks."

"Evil satellite network?"

"We probably don't want to know, Hermione." Harry said, shaking his head.

"You really don't." Jack agreed, "And _not _ because I had anything to do with it, either."

At that moment, Ginny walked into the room, looking positively beautiful in a lacy red dress that, while obviously bought by her mother, fitted her _perfectly_.

"Hey, Harry." she smiled brightly.

"Hi." he grinned.

He only noticed Tosh turn and whisper something to Owen, because Owen was a dangerous creature you don't take your eyes off if you know what's good for you. Owen then proceeded to grin over Tosh's shoulder, watching Harry and Ginny expectantly.

"I couldn't decide what to get you for your birthday." Ginny admitted, stepping closer, "It was the twins who said you might like this."

That worried Harry for a moment- especially combined with the grin on Owen Harper's face- but then she held out her hand and showed him... a commlink, just like the ones Jack had given him for Christmas in his fifth year.

"Uh... that's great, Ginny..." he said, really not wanting to upset her, "But I- er- I already have one of those."

"I know." she said, laughing lightly, "But now I have one as well. And Tosh showed me how to make conversations on them private."

Ron stared at this, and was rather sharply dragged away by Hermione. A second later, Fleur and her family arrived, and Ginny grabbed Harry's arm. She shot Fleur a brief scowl, before brightly suggesting, "How about we go up to my room and I'll show you?"

And with that they quickly departed the now too crowded kitchen.

Up the stairs and into the small room on the first floor that belonged to Ginny. "I know you're planning to go after him." she said, sitting on the bed and fidgeting with the commlink in her hands, "And much as I'd like to go with you, I know you wouldn't want to put me in danger."

Harry blinked a couple of times. Yes, he had been thinking about how to explain that dilemma without just running off into the night and leaving everyone else behind. Ron and Hermione had already talked their way into going with him in spite of his protests, and he had honestly expected a big argument over whether Ginny would go with him or not. He had also expected to be on the 'not' side of that argument... like she had just said, for her own safety.

"It's not that I don't want to be with you..." Harry explained, "But it's going to be dangerous, and-"

"And mum would pitch a fit if I skipped off school." Ginny continued, "Ron would pitch a fit if you encouraged me to. I'm still underage so there's the Trace."

"Not to mention, you'd be in direct line of fire from Voldemort and his followers." Harry pointed out.

Ginny shrugged, "That's new how?" she asked blankly, before shaking her head and continuing, "Besides, dating or not... Harry, I've met Tom Riddle, remember? He's not exactly the type to differentiate between friends and lovers. I'd be quite surprised if he's ever had either, to be honest." Harry snorted at that, but Ginny continued seriously, "Everyone in my family pretty much already has a bull's-eye painted on us just because we took you in over the holidays. If that doesn't put me on Voldemort's enemies list, I'm not sure what will."

"I hear 'being Owen Harper' is a good way to get on enemies lists... just generally." Harry joked.

Ginny laughed, "I wonder why!" she giggled a moment longer, and unlike most girls giggling this was a pleasant and not at all terrifying sound. Then she beckoned for him to come over and sit next to her. "Here, let me show you this." she said, holding up the commlink.

After a few minutes she had gone over how to set channels on it. It was like tuning a radio, except with hidden codes that most spy movies wouldn't bother thinking of. He had to give it to Jack and his friends; they were thorough, and definitely people to have on your side in an impending war.

"Now we can keep in touch, even while I'm at Hogwarts and you're... off saving the world." Ginny finished, the brightness in her voice a bit forced now.

"Hey, Hogwarts isn't exactly boring, you know."

"Of course not." Ginny agreed brightly, "Giant snakes, escaped convicts, murder plots, demon headmistresses, and fake murder plots... what I wouldn't give for a quiet year." she laughed, meeting his eyes a bit wistfully, "Just let it be my seventh, yeah?"

"You're not to go looking for trouble." Harry sat back a moment after he said that, shocked at himself, "I know everyone always says that to me, but the truth is, I never _look _ for it. It finds me!"

"With the way things are going, I would be disappointed in you if we don't have some kind of trouble this year. Maybe a successful murder plot on an evil overlord?"

Harry chuckled weakly. "I'll do my best."

Ginny grinned, leaning a little closer to him, "I hope so." she said softly, before kissing him.

x x x

Harry did not leave Ginny's room for the next few hours... and only then because he was disturbed by a too-polite cough that managed to impersonate Dolores Umbridge horrifyingly well, over the commlink he was wearing.

"It's dinner time, and our guest of honour is missing." Gwen Cooper's voice pointed out chirpily. It was clearly she who had made the coughing noise.

"He's probably shagging his girlfriend." Owen's voice grumbled.

"Who can hear you." Ginny snapped at the commlink. The distinct sound of Owen getting smacked upside the head could be heard even over the commlink, causing Harry to chuckle. Ginny shut her commlink off and asked, "Should I tell him what we were really doing, or just curse him?"

"Oh, curse him." Harry laughed, "You know, I've heard about your Bat Bogey hexes... never seen one."

"Consider it a birthday treat, then." Ginny cheered brightly.

"I told you he was good at making enemies." Harry grinned.

On the way down to dinner, Ron accosted Harry... Ginny slipped right past him, in spite of Ron trying to catch her as well. She waved cheerfully at both of them as she ran off down the stairs and out into the garden where it seemed the dinner table had been moved to.

"Harry... you didn't-?" Ron demanded.

"You believe a word Owen Harper says?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Harkness used that exact same line on us when we asked about Malfoy..." Ron pointed out.

Harry shook his head, "I did not do anything to your sister, alright Ron?"

Ron just stared at him, somewhere between sceptical and a failed attempt at looking menacing.

"Okay, she kissed me, but you've got to be used to that by now." Harry said pointedly. It was true enough. Since Slughorn's Christmas party, Harry and Ginny had basically become an official couple. Ron had grumbled before, but he had also known there had been no more to it than he himself had done with Lavender.

"You were in her room for two and a half hours!"

"Talking." Harry insisted.

"He's telling the truth, you know." Jack said from the foot of the stairs.

"And how would you know, Harkness?" Ron snapped.

"Do you really want to ask that, Ron?" Harry asked, "I'm quite sure I don't." Harry said, walking down the stairs past both of them, muttering, "Thanks." to Jack in spite of this.

"No, I want answers!" Ron snapped at Jack. Harry warily turned around to see what happened.

Jack just shrugged, "There are signs, if you know what to look for. For the record, two of your brothers have got some recently... and I hope Fleur's family aren't the no-sex-before-marriage types..."

"Two?" Ron asked, dumbstruck.

Bill and Fleur had been dating for over two years now, and they _were _ getting married tomorrow... it made sense. But Harry was just as confused by the rest of what Jack said as Ron was.

"It seems Charlie has a boyfriend."

Harry snickered, and Ron just gaped as Jack shrugged and wandered out into the garden.

"I do not trust that kid..." Ron grumbled.

"Well, he's right about me and Ginny..." Harry said reassuringly.

"I wouldn't be surprised at Bill and Fleur." Ron agreed vaguely, "But, y'know, the twins always insisted Charlie was more into... well, dragons."

x x x

"This is why we tell you not to share!" Owen said in between guffaws of laughter, "It's bad enough we know you can tell these things, but you have to go telling everyone else as well!"

This conversation would never had happened if Molly Weasley hadn't been so distracted waiting near the kitchen door for her husband to arrive. She just would not have allowed it, and even Owen wouldn't have dared.

"I really didn't think Charlie was the type..." Gwen giggled.

"I thought he was dating Norberta?" Fred said chirpily.

"Lay off it already, George." George laughed, "We know perfectly well he wanted the Welsh Green from the Triwizard Tournament!"

"He's sitting right next to you." Charlie said, trying very hard not to look too embarrassed, "And he much prefers brunettes, rather than green scales."

"You've clearly never met a Silurian." Jack said with a grin. Owen nearly fell out of his seat laughing.

"What's a Silurian?" Harry dared ask.

"Lizard people. Very talented tongues." Jack said brightly.

"Too much information!" Ron yelped in horror, while his brothers just laughed.

Just at that moment a streak of silver light soared down into the garden and landed on the table, resolving itself into what looked a lot like a Patronus in the form of a weasel. And it spoke quite briskly with Arthur Weasley's voice, "Minister of Magic coming with me." And then it disappeared.

Lupin immediately stood, grabbing Tonks' hand, "We shouldn't be here." he said quickly, "Harry, I'm sorry, I'll explain some other time-" And with that he left.

Everyone was a bit stunned, though more by the Minister's imminent arrival than by Lupin's behaviour. It wasn't like a werewolf was a popular creature to be in the wizarding world in this century, at the best of times... and he clearly had his reasons.

"Crashing your birthday party." Jack observed flatly, "Such good manners this Minister has."

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, "He just saw me at the end of term. Why didn't he ask then?"

"You'd have said no." Ginny observed.

"That's... true, but not the point." Harry insisted, starting to smile in spite of himself.

That smile was wiped clean off his face when Arthur Weasley and the Minister of Magic appeared at the gate.

"Well... he's better looking than Fudge." Jack observed, "Therefore I like him less."

"How's that work?" Fred Weasley asked.

"He had a grudge against a politician once..." Owen explained vaguely, "His exact words were 'glad he's dead... although if he wasn't such an evil psychopathic bastard I'd have had him'."

"Thanks, Owen." Jack sulked.

"Evil psychopathic bastard? Not anyone we know, is it?" George asked.

"I sincerely hope not." Jack muttered darkly.

The conversation ended at this point, and a few seconds later the Minister was within comfortable speaking distance, "Sorry to intrude. Especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party. Many happy returns."

"Thanks." Harry said flatly.

"I require a private word with you." the Minister continued, "Also with Mr. Ronald Weasley, Mr Jack Harkness, and Miss Hermione Granger."

"Us?" Ron asked, shocked, "Why us?"

"If I hear the word 'aliens', I'm cursing him." Jack muttered under his breath.

The Minister seemed quite put out by this demand, and curtly answered, "I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private." he turned to Arthur Weasley and asked, "Is there such a place?"

"Yes, of course. The- er- sitting room, why don't you use that?" Arthur Weasley suggested, a bit flustered by the whole thing.

Scrimgeour waved to Ron, "You can lead the way. There will be no need for you to accompany us, Arthur."

Once inside the usually cosy sitting room of the Burrow, Scrimgeour turned to face the four of them. His mere presence made the place feel colder and more clinical somehow. "I have some questions for the four of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you three-" he indicated Harry, Jack and Hermione, "-can wait upstairs, I will start with Ronald."

Jack looked to Harry for direction here, and was not to be disappointed, "We're not going anywhere. You can speak to us together, or not at all."

It took a moment of determined staring on the part of the four teenagers, before Scrimgeour finally gave in with a sigh, "Very well then, together. I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."

x x x


	97. Where There's A Will

x x x

**Chaper 97: Where There's A Will...**

x x x

Jack wasn't sure why he had been summoned to the Headmaster's office. He hadn't done anything wrong... that anyone could prove.

He had, of course, been in this office before, though only briefly. This time he was able to take in the sights around him. Sparkling devices that looked somewhere between steampunk science and real magic. Portraits lining the walls, all fast asleep... or looking it at least. And, to his deepest amusement, a perch that no doubt was designed for the phoenix to reside on.

"I called you here for a reason, Mr Harkness." Dumbledore said calmly, seated behind his desk with flawless dignity. His right hand was visible, blackened and deformed. The rumour was that powerful dark magic did it, but nobody knew for sure. Dumbledore was good at diverting away from the topic.

"Of course." Jack said with a nod, standing next to the chair opposite the old man, wary of even letting his guard down enough to take the seat.

"How old are you, Mr Harkness?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer with a lie, somewhere between defensive and amused. He had asked the same question of Dumbledore on his first day here. But then the serious look on Dumbledore's face stalled him, and he asked instead, "Why would you need to ask that, professor?"

"Because you are most certainly not as young as you appear." Dumbledore rose from his chair now, walking slowly around the side of the desk, and Jack took on a defensive stance automatically. His cover was basically blown and he had no way of knowing if the old man's intentions were hostile or not. "When you crossed the Age Line... it broke. The enchantment was not merely bypassed by some clever trick, nor would the presence of anyone up to even my own age interfere with its workings. I was forced to surreptitiously reapply the charms, and was most grateful that no underage students attempted to cross the line in the meantime."

Jack half-laughed, "I broke your spell?" he scoffed in an admittedly poorly feigned tone of disbelief. Either it didn't read up to that great an age, or far more likely his immortal curse had caused the damage.

"That is not my only evidence, Mr Harkness." and very suddenly Dumbledore drew his wand.

There wasn't that much space between them, and Jack's instincts kicked in at the sight of a weapon pointed at him. He stepped forward, placing himself between the wand held by Dumbledore's outstretched arm, and the man himself. The position rendered the ranged weapon entirely ineffective, as he grabbed the arm itself. The least twist to force him to drop the wand caused a bone-deep cracking noise that both elicited a gasp of pain from Dumbledore, and startled Jack into releasing the old man's curse-damaged arm.

Dumbledore chuckled faintly, backing up and holding his hands out to the sides to imply a lack of hostile intent. Now unarmed, and almost smiling in spite of the confrontation. "Do please calm down, Mr Harkness. I have no desire to turn this discussion into a confrontation. Though you do seem to be quite adept at that."

Jack smirked faintly, backing down just a little. Dumbledore made no effort to retrieve his wand from the floor.

"You are well-trained in mental disciplines and, as observed by Alastor Moody, you are practiced and skilled in combat. Both of these talents take years to hone and develop, and while the basics of magical combat- shields and curses- are simple to master within a few years, your talent far outstrips this. Mr Longbottom claimed you called Bellatrix Lestrange out to 'dance', and both he and Alastor Moody implied that your combat style reflected your words. Even Barty Crouch Junior told me that you used a _mirror _ in a duel, displaying uncanny reflexes."

"Decades of practice." Jack conceded, deciding not to argue... and maybe to ask Ianto about Retcon later. "I'm more used to Muggle weapons... but once you get the basics, they're close enough."

"Would you care to explain?" Dumbledore asked genially. So this was it. After four years, the gig was up? The old man hadn't taken _that _ long to figure it out. Why now?

"I'm older than you." Jack said flatly. "I have no idea how I was youthened and sent here. Back in time, just for fun. One minute, it's twenty-oh-eight, the next I'm in nineteen-ninety-three. Also eleven years old... and no, I didn't choose it. Nobody would ever willingly live through puberty twice."

"The older you get, the more I think... I have met you before." Dumbledore said sceptically, "Your face is somewhat familiar. However, that is not the issue."

"What is the issue, then?" Jack asked, while trying to figure out that last comment. He was quite sure if he had ever met a man with Albus Dumbledore's dress-sense, regardless of the age of the man in question, he would have remembered it.

"Your name was not on the Hogwarts register." Dumbledore said, calmly retaking his seat. Jack decided he may as well also sit down, so he took the seat opposite. "It was added the day before the beginning of term, by the enchanted quill that normally does so years in advance... but in different handwriting."

Jack blinked. Okay, he was getting to the point of just passing off all these odd coincidences on the Bad Wolf... but really, she seemed to be going to a lot of trouble for this, and he was getting very uncomfortable with not knowing why.

"As were the names of four of your classmate, all of whom appear... very close to you." Yes, because you have eyes. Jack thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I have come to the conclusion that you are, for the most part, honourable. I believe you are a valuable ally in the war against Lord Voldemort, and I do consider you trustworthy. It is quite obvious that you like to present yourself as an authority figure. Even the older students respect you. Harry respects you."

"Here we go." Jack said, sitting forward. The point, at last.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. Reluctantly. "Yes, Mr Harkness. I am not sure if he has told you this, but Harry asked me to let you, Mr Weasley or Miss Granger know, if there was ever any valuable information that he could not be allowed to know, but that may need to affect his judgement."

"I don't think he told me that, no." Jack answered, frowning. This sounded serious.

"I shall be blunt." Dumbledore said, leaning forward.

"That would preferable." Jack retorted, somehow managing to sound morbidly playful while also expressing his full understanding that whatever this was it was deadly serious.

"Lord Voldemort, in his quest for eternal life, resorted to terrible dark magics, the details of which I have already explained to Harry. The curse he cast on items bound fragments of his soul to them, which in turn bind him to this Earth even when his body was destroyed nearly sixteen years ago. These objects are known as Horcruxes. Each one is an atrocious crime against nature, and Lord Voldemort created, I believe, seven of them."

"Cursed objects?" Jack asked, thinking most clearly of the diadem... and something he read in a book that sounded about the same. "Let me guess. This is a 'destroy the source of his immortality before going after him' kind of situation?"

"You have the right of it, indeed." Dumbledore nodded slowly, "There is, however, one small flaw in the plan."

Jack tilted his head to one side, attentively. Had Voldemort done something drastic like bury one of these things under the World Trade Centre? Send one off with the Moon Landing mission? Fed one to the Loch Ness Monster? Bought a Muggle security deposit under the name John Smith and expected Torchwood _not _ to go snooping (like the Doctor did a few years in the future)?

"Harry Potter is a Horcrux."

Jack stared, horror washing over him like a wave. "What?" Jack asked sharply.

"I am sure it was not Lord Voldemort's intention. I do believe he meant to kill Harry and use that action as a part of the ritual to create a Horcrux from another item." Dumbledore's gaze drifted suspiciously over to a cabinet on the wall, which contained a silver sword encrusted in rubies. "However, as the curse backfired, and Voldemort was not alive to complete the necessary rituals, the separated fragment of his soul instinctively went to the nearest living thing."

Jack felt like he was going to be sick, staring at the wall just below the sword, just to avoid meeting the other man's gaze. "Is there a way to break the spell without hurting him?"

"I wish that there were." Dumbledore said with what sounded like genuine sorrow, "However, only five things known to man may destroy a Horcrux. Basilisk venom or Nundu Blood, both of which are poisonous to humans and highly corrosive to inanimate objects. Fiendfyre, which will destroy anything in its path and is notoriously difficult to wield. The Killing Curse... or a Dementor's Kiss."

"And I doubt a Dementor would be all too thrilled with the idea of just taking a Horcrux and leaving an innocent soul unharmed." Jack sulked.

"I do doubt it."

Jack scowled at the sword, then turned to glare at the Headmaster, meeting his eyes with cold and bitter resentment, "You knew this all along, didn't you? You _planned _ for it. You must have."

Dumbledore sighed deeply, "Believe me, I do not wish harm upon Harry. I care for him deeply, as if he were my own family. However, there is no other way to permanently defeat Lord Voldemort."

x x x

"Very well then, together." the Minister of Magic said, somewhat resentfully, "I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."

It seemed nobody had anticipated this. All four of them were stunned by it, and exchanged confused looks just to prove it. Jack was particularly surprised that he had managed to get into the will, considering he had never exactly endeared himself to the Headmaster.

"A surprise, apparently!" the Minister said, "You were not aware then that Dumbledore had left you anything?"

"All of us?" Ron asked, "Me and Hermione too? Even _him?_" he waved almost disdainfully at Jack. They may have found a mutual respect for each other, but that didn't mean Ron liked him in the least, and right now he made that abundantly clear.

"Yes, all of-"

"Dumbledore died over a month ago." Harry interrupted, "Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked with a bit of a sneer, "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us." she turned on the Minister in disgust, "You had no right to do that!"

"I had every right. The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power the confiscate the contents of a will-"

"That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artefacts." Hermione interrupted, "And the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?"

"Clearly they didn't find anything, or he wouldn't have come here alone. No armed guards." Jack added cheerfully.

"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" the Minister asked sceptically.

"No, I'm not!" Hermione retorted, horrified, "I'm hoping to do some good in the world!" Ron laughed quite raucously at that.

Even Jack found it amusing, though he also felt the need to add, "Avoid politics as well, then."

"So why have you decided to let us have our things now?" Harry asked, "Can't think of a pretext to keep them?"

"No, it'll be because thirty-one days are up." Hermione said coldly, "They can't keep the objects longer than that unless they can prove they're dangerous. Right?"

"Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?" the Minister asked, ignoring Hermione.

Ron stared, "Me? Not- not really... It was always Harry who..." Ron's gaze turned to Harry and Hermione, and he shut up promptly upon meeting Hermione's wide-eyed stare.

Too late to stop the Minister from correctly interpreting that statement, unfortunately, "If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions- his private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects- were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?"

Ron shrugged, "I dunno. I- when I say we weren't close... I mean-"

"Albus Dumbledore always favoured Gryffindor House." Jack cut across him diplomatically, "I heard he rigged the school cup in Harry, Ronald and Hermione's first year, and Ronald was one of the ones he gave fifty extra points to... for being good at chess."

"Don't call me Ronald." Ron growled, "Only my mum calls me that!"

"If I called you 'Weasley', nobody would know who I was referring to." Jack sniped playfully. "I'm closer to the twins than you."

"Dumbledore's always been fond of the three of us. I was in that group as well." Hermione said nodding, "I'd be very surprised if he didn't leave anything to Neville Longbottom, too."

"As a matter of fact, he did." the Minister said, seeming somewhat crestfallen. Jack made a mental note to ask Neville about this, later. From the calculating expressions on their faces, Harry and Hermione had just done exactly the same. "That does leave the question of Mr Harkness, however."

"Define close." Jack grinned.

"No, Jack. Please, no." Harry said, shaking his head and trying not to laugh.

"I think I made a good impression on him a couple of years ago." Jack shrugged, feigning innocence. Poorly, he was sure. "We've talked a few times since. He liked my take on politics."

the Minister did not look pleased with this statement, however he sighed and took out a scroll of parchment, which he unrolled and proceeded to read aloud, "_'The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore'_... Yes, here we are... _'To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.'_"

He produced a bag from seemingly thin air, and from this he removed a small object about the size and look of a silvery lightsaber. Though judging by the name, it sounded like the exact opposite.

As the Minister handed this to Ron, he explained, "This is a valuable object. It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you and item so rare?" Ron just stared at the object in his hands, dumbstruck and confused as the Minister continued, "Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you four, and Mr Longbottom. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put to the Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?"

"Put out lights, I suppose." Ron muttered with a vague shrug, "What else could I do with it?" the Minister seemed not to have an answer to that, either. Clearly he had hoped Ron would be more informative.

So instead he continued to read from the will, "_'To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.'_" He pulled from the bag an old book bound in dark leather and decorated with ancient runes, and handed it over to Hermione. "Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?"

"He... he knew I liked books." Hermione answered, fighting back a sob and wiping a tear from her eyes before it could fall.

"But why that particular book?" the Minister persisted.

"I don't know." she said, shaking her head, "He must have thought I'd enjoy it."

"Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages, with Dumbledore?"

Jack gave him a rather sceptical look for this, "Oh, come on, she's a Gryffindor!" Ron snorted and shot Jack a disgusted look for that interruption.

"So was Albus Dumbledore, Mr Harkness." the Minister observed coldly, "And as to you, yes... _'To Jack Dorian Harkness-'_"

"Dorian?" Ron spluttered.

"Bilius?" Jack sniped right back. He had never taken a middle name when he stole the one he was currently using, and he wondered what the hell Dumbledore was playing at for naming him after a fictional immortal with no conscience and a penchant for cursed self-portraits.

The Minister refused to be interrupted however, "_'-I leave my personal deck of Tarot cards, in the hopes they may improve his understanding of the subject.'_" the dubious look the Minister gave him asked the question he had already voiced to the other two, and Jack answered it before he needed to put it to words.

"I've been failing Divination... but it is my favourite subject. I blame the teacher."

"How do you _fail _ Divination?" Ron asked in confusion.

Jack smirked at him, "She thinks I'm making it up."

"Are you?" Harry asked dubiously.

"I never had a reason to." he shrugged, taking the small box the Minister offered him.

"And you, Mr Harkness, have never considered hidden codes before either, I suppose?" he asked sceptically.

"All the time. Never with Dumbledore." Jack shrugged vaguely, opening the neat dark-wood box, which he noticed was lined in red crushed velvet, and sifting through the cards themselves. He was a little bit surprised to see the first card he drew was the Knight of Swords- just like his little seeress back in Cardiff, this deck's Knight of Swords looked an awful lot like his older self. "These're nicer than the ones Trelawney made us use." he said with deliberately feigned cheer, as he carefully put the cards back in their box in the same order.

The Minister rolled his eyes in disdain, and went back to reading the will itself, "'To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.'" At this he produced what looked like just any other golden snitch from a Quidditch game, still flapping its tiny little wings even as he held it up for them all to see. "Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?"

"Because it's technically his anyway?" Jack suggested.

Harry gave him a confused look, but shrugged and answered the question for himself, "No idea. For the reasons you just read out, I suppose... to remind me what you can get if you... persevere and whatever it was."

"You think this a mere symbolic keepsake, then?"

"I suppose so." Harry agreed, "What else could it be?"

Jack decided to shut the hell up right now, and saw Hermione bite her lips together in a way that proved she knew the answer just as well as he did.

"I'm asking the questions." the Minister insisted. "I notice that your birthday cake is in the shape of a Snitch. Why is that?"

Hermione laughed derisively, "Oh, it can't be a reference to the fact Harry's a great Seeker, that's way too obvious. There must be a secret message from Dumbledore hidden in the icing!"

The Minister gave her a dark look, "I don't think there's anything hidden in the icing." he said darkly, "But a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I'm sure?"

Hermione bit her lips together again at that, "Can't imagine why." she said, "They're not hollow, are they? How would you even open one?"

"I can think of better places to hide small objects." Jack added brightly.

"No. No no no no no!" Ron protested, covering his ears.

Everyone stared at Jack and Ron. "What?" Jack asked innocently.

The Minister shook his head, "Snitches have what is known as flesh memory." he explained, "A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch-" he held up the magical object in question, "-will remember your touch, Potter."

"'Course Harkness would remember that." Ron grumbled.

"As a matter of fact-" Jack said, "-the Snitch flew right into my face that time I played for Hufflepuff. They had to get out a spare. Madame Hooch was not happy with me. As if I did it on purpose or something. Damn thing nearly put my eye out!"

Harry blinked at that. Jack saw the tell, as if Harry had just realised something very significant, but the Minister had been staring at Jack when it happened.

"It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you." Harry was now staring at the Snitch almost as if afraid. As if he was trying to think of a way to avoid the Minister seeing what was inside.

Jack sat down, resting an elbow on an armrest of the chair he had chosen, and his head against his palm so as to surreptitiously reach his commlink. Which he then activated to Torchwood's private channel and tapped sharply.

_Tap tap tap. TAP TAP TAP. Tap tap tap._

"What?" Owen's voice asked in his ear.

"You don't say anything." the Minister said to Harry, "Perhaps you already know what the Snitch contains?"

"No." Harry answered, scowling at the Snitch.

_TAP TAP tap. Tap. TAP._  
><em>Tap tap. TAP tap.<em>  
><em>Tap tap tap tap. Tap. Tap TAP tap. Tap. Tap TAP tap.<em>

"Oh, sod Samuel Morse!" Owen declared loudly.

_Tap tap._  
><em>TAP tap tap. Tap tap. TAP tap tap.<em>

He heard Tosh's laughter over the comms, and muttered swearing from Owen. "Why am I not surprised?" Ianto asked vaguely.

"Take it." the Minister insisted to Harry. Harry glanced at Jack, obviously noticing he was up to something, just not quite sure what.

Harry looked up at the Minister, meeting his eyes, "You know I'm not your enemy, right?" Harry pointed out, "If Dumbledore was trying to pass notes like a bad kid at the back of the class, I'm not exactly asking for it."

"Of course." the Minister said, though he didn't sound like he believed it, even as Harry held out his hand.

Just as the Snitch was about to touch Harry's palm the door flew open and Owen and Ianto both burst in. The Minister was startled, turning to stare at the two boys, just at the wrong moment.

Unfortunately for that perfectly timed distraction, absolutely nothing happened when the Snitch touched Harry's skin.

He saw the relief flash across Harry's face, wiped away again just before the Minister could look back to him. And then disappointment crossed the Minister's face quite clearly and decided to stay there.

"That was dramatic." Harry muttered sarcastically.

"Did we miss something important?" Owen asked.

"No, the cake is still outside." Jack laughed, relieved but trying to hide it under insulting Owen. That almost always worked.

Owen grumbled and skulked off. Ianto gave Jack a confused look, but Jack just shook his head and Ianto left as well.

"That's all, then, is it?" Hermione asked the Minister once the others had gone.

"Not quite." the Minister said, scowling darkly at the Snitch as if it had betrayed him somehow. "Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter."

"What is it?" Harry asked hopefully.

"The sword of Godric Gryffindor."

"Oh, you get all the nice things!" Jack protested.

"Shut it, Harkness." Ron sniped.

"Make me." Jack grinned. Ron knew better than to accept that challenge. Everyone knew Ianto was the only one capable of succeeding, and nobody bothered to ask to find out it wasn't in an obscene way.

"So where is it?" Harry asked the Minister, who continued to scowl at them.

"Unfortunately, that sword was not Dumbledore's to give away." the Minister explained, "The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artefact, and as such, belongs-"

"It belongs to Harry!" Hermione interrupted, "It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat-"

The Minister shook his head, "According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor. That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr. Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided. Why do you think Dumbledore wished you to have this sword? Was it because he believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Probably." Harry said with a shrug, "I'm not a mind reader. And even if I did know, even if I said you were right, would it make a difference?"

The Minister sat back with a sigh, sulking somewhat, now, "No, Mr Potter, even if I did believe you were Prophesied to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I would not have been able to give you the sword. It is the property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Goblin law... no it isn't." Ianto's voice whispered in Jack's ear.

"Are you sure about that, Minister?" Jack asked, frowning. The man looked about ready to snap at him, but Jack continued regardless, "I hear the goblins might disagree."

"The goblins will claim that anything they crafted belongs to them, and is merely on loan to those who do in fact rightfully own it." the Minister explained coldly.

"So... Harry could apply for a loan?" Jack asked, smirking.

"Even if the Ministry abided by such outmoded and obscure practices, Gringotts is in no state to handle such petty matters, at present. You would have to consult Hogwarts itself. If you really want the sword so badly?" the Minister glanced at Harry as he said this.

Harry shrugged, "I don't even know why Dumbledore wanted me to have it. Only, he's usually pretty good at this sort of thing, and it might help even if we don't know how or why."

The Minister thought about this for a moment, "I do not approve of secrets being kept from the Ministry, Mr Potter."

"But we really don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, when he wrote that will." Jack pointed out.

Harry nodded in agreement, "If I wanted to hide things from the Ministry, I would never have made that deal with you."

The Minister sighed, standing up, "Very well. So be it. You know how to reach me, should you have anything further to say."

And with that he turned and swept out of the Burrow without another word.

"Right bundle of laughs, isn't he?" Ron muttered darkly, clicking the Deluminator idly. All the lights in the room flew into the small object and left them in darkness. Another click and the lights were restored.

"I want a lightsaber." Jack said flatly, staring at the Deluminator. "Hermione... do you think you and Tosh could mix lasers and binding spells?"

Hermione blanched at that thought, "I- I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

x x x


	98. Crashed The Wedding

x x x

**Chapter 98: Crashed The Wedding**

x x x

"Tarot cards?" Tosh asked sceptically, "Dumbledore gave you Tarot cards?"

"I knew a girl who could read these with a hundred percent accuracy, even before I heard of magic." he smirked faintly, "I had no idea she was a witch. Maybe I should pay her a visit?"

"Or try it yourself." Owen suggested, "You've only ever failed Divination because the old cow doesn't believe in aliens. She marked me down for it and all."

Jack shrugged and drew the first three cards from the deck. The Knight of Swords, the Ace of Wands, and the Queen of Cups.

"The Knight kind of looks like us." Jack's past-self pointed out, leaning over his shoulder.

"I noticed that." Jack muttered darkly, "I never learned the meanings, but..." Gwen handed him her Divination text book. "Thanks." He took a moment ot look up the meanings in the book, "I... think I know who the Queen is..." he said distantly. He noticed the confused looks they all gave him- even his own past self- but shrugged, "And it says the Ace of Wands means creation, power, and disaster. Which makes sense in context, but... I did have to cheat to pass the Tarotmancy part of Trelawney's class."

"Time turners are not cheating." Owen announced, smirking, "They're just illegitimate study aids."

"Ask the girl, then?" Jack's past-self suggested, while the rest of the team laughed at Owen's words.

"Finding her is always so much fun." Jack said sarcastically.

"I'll get to work on it, then." his past-self agreed.

x x x

Jack's invitation to the Weasley-Delacour wedding was for himself plus one. Bill and Fleur didn't know the rest of Torchwood well enough to invite them specifically, and Jack only got an invite because he had been one of the four Triwizard Champions along with Fleur.

So naturally, he chose to bring Ianto as his 'plus one'.

Sirius, as a firmly established friend of the Weasley family, and Jack Harkness's personal Apparation taxi, brought them to the event. They were a bit late, because Sirius had been preoccupied. "I hate paperwork. I'll incinerate the lot of it if they interrupt the party today." he announced brightly.

"Throw it up in the air, poison the opposing lawyers, and lose something vital down the back of the settee." Jack offered, "I'll provide the poison."

"You have a twisted imagination." Sirius said with a grin.

"I didn't make that up." Jack said with entirely false innocence.

"What kind of poison?" Ianto asked with a bit too much interest.

"No idea, but it was air-born and pretty fast, from what I heard." Jack shrugged.

"It's not nice to poison lawyers like that." Luna said chirpily, appearing next to Jack with a tall man who just had to be her father.

"What about politicians?" Jack asked just as cheerfully.

"Oh, they're alright." Luna dismissed brightly, "Jack, Ianto, Mr Black... this is my dad."

"Xenophilius Lovegood." the man introduced himself, shaking Sirius' hand.

"I like his name." Jack said with a grin.

"You would." Ianto only just managed to keep a straight face as the man shook their hands as well, in turn.

"Oh, I know you." Xenophilius said to Jack, "You're Captain Jack. Archie's friend."

"You might have me confused with someone older." Jack said evasively.

Xenophilius looked genuinely confused for a moment, then shrugged, "You know, you could be right. Archie did mention the name in conjunction with Grindelwald of all people." A slight shudder at that name, "Bit older than you appear, I would say, yes."

"Now, dad." Luna chided, "I think we're expected..." she gestured to the group of red-heads who were guiding people to their seats, and Luna steered him away directly to the shorter curly-haired one. "Hello Harry."

"Er- my name's Barny." the smaller boy said, somewhat defensive.

"Oh, have you changed that too?" Luna asked distractedly.

"Right. Well, I guess we know those two are... perceptive, then." Ianto said, smiling faintly, "Grindelwald?" he asked Jack.

"No idea. I think I need to interrogate Archie." Jack said with an almost malevolent grin, "He always hated my interrogations, too much flirting."

"Some people actually prefer females, you know." Ianto pointed out. Jack stared at him with mock confusion as if this was a totally unheard of concept to him.

"You know, I really like chaperoning you lot... don't need to play innocent." Sirius said brightly.

Ron Weasley had guided Luna and her father away, and Sirius, Jack and Ianto approached what was obviously Harry under the influence of Polyjuice potion. "So... what do gingers taste like?" Jack asked brightly.

"Oh, don't you start, too!" Harry protested.

"We just overheard Luna." Sirius snickered.

"You're shorter than me... makes a nice change." Jack observed idly.

Harry rolled his temporarily-brown eyes, "Come on then... this way."

x x x

The ceremony itself was fairly standard. Pretty in that fairy-tale way most women will pay through the nose for, but not especially interesting.

Ianto vaguely ignored it, feeling uncomfortable in a way that even this level of formality had never instilled in him before. There was a chill- not in the air so much as in his heart and mind- and he couldn't really focus. Just going along with the crowd when everyone stood up at the end. He was so distracted that he actually jumped when the enclosed tent, chairs and ground transformed into an open canopy over a large golden dance floor.

"You alright?" Jack asked him quietly, as everyone else marvelled at the beauty of it all.

Ianto shook his head, "I just... I've got a really bad feeling... I don't know why."

Jack looked at him curiously. "Bad, how?"

Ianto shivered and felt light-headed, almost collapsing for a second, if Jack hadn't held him steady, "I really don't know."

Jack frowned, biting his lip as he looked at Ianto with concern, "You look pale. Come on, over here... let's sit down."

Ianto allowed himself to be led over to where the chairs had magically moved, now set neatly around small tables that hadn't been there a minute ago. He sat down, leaning on the table and trying not to look as bad as he felt. He was shaking slightly now even though he tried to fight it. "I feel so cold." he whispered to Jack.

Jack was still watching him with concern, then tapped his wrist-strap and held it towards Ianto, "Oh, not good." he gasped, staring at the readings, whatever they said. "Stay here. Sirius!" Jack shouted across the room, and Sirius turned from his conversation with Remus and Tonks to look at them. Jack beckoned him over, and the three of them quickly crossed the dance floor to their table.

"What is it?" Sirius asked.

"I need to Apparate. Lupin, can you keep an eye on Ianto, please?"

"Of course... is he-" Remus began. Ianto suddenly cringed in pain.

"Wow, he looks bad." Sirius declared, "What's-"

"Don't ask. Just help me." Jack ordered.

"Jack, what's wrong with me?" Ianto demanded, feeling worse by the second.

"Back to the Future." Jack answered. It was both entirely unintelligible to any pureblood of the wizarding world, and a perfectly clear, thorough and succinct explanation to Ianto.

"Oh, damn it." Ianto mumbled, covering his face with his hands as he fought down a growing wave of nausea.

"Apparate me now?" Jack asked Sirius urgently.

"Sure." Sirius took his hand, "Where?"

"The flat, first." And just like that they both vanished.

Tonks lightly touched Ianto's shoulder, "You alright there, mate?"

"I- I'll be fine." Ianto said weakly, trying to convince himself as much as them, "Jack knows what he's doing."

x x x

Ifan Jones was surprised to receive a phone call. He had only given his number to five people, and didn't expect any of them to call him now.

"Who is this?"

"Jack Harkness. Where's Ianto?"

"He- he's out with his friends." Ifan said, confused.

"Where?"

"Why are you asking me this?" he demanded.

"He's in danger."

"How? What happened?"

"I don't know, but his future self is sick, and the signs say the cause is a time paradox. Something is going to hurt his younger self, if we don't stop it."

"He should be at the arcade." Ifan said, before giving exact details. "I'll meet you there."

"No. You stay where you are." Jack said, "If it wants to hurt him, it won't mind hurting you too. I do this for a living, trust me."

The phone hung up before Ifan could retort to that, and he stared at it with. He was terrified for his son... angry at the young man who so brashly _ordered _ him to stay out of this, when it was so clearly his business as well.

If anything hurt Ianto, they would pay, Ifan would see to that.

x x x

Jack and Sirius Apparated just out the back of the arcade, at the address Ianto's father had given him. Jack ran headlong around the corner... and right into a nightmare.

There were a dozen Death Eaters, in their black hooded robes and masks, gleefully throwing curses around at innocent civilians. Several people were being levitated helplessly above the group of psychopaths, others had been hit by leg-lockers to stop them from fleeing. Still more were seriously wounded.

Sirius swore under his breath, and whispered the incantation of a Patronus, which soared away before Jack could get a good look at its form.

Jack scanned the crowd, and it wasn't difficult for him to spot Ianto- he looked exactly the same, except for a somewhat less flattering haircut- kneeling next to a girl his age who looked like she had been hit by a full body-bind spell.

As Sirius called out one of the Death Eaters he recognised, eagerly picking a fight, Jack rushed to Ianto's side and dispelled the curse on the girl, "Run." he said urgently.

"Thank you." Ianto said, wide-eyed as he helped the girl to her feet and they both ran for cover.

"You again?" a familiar voice cried out.

"Oh, hello Bella dear." Jack stood, turning to stare at her coldly, "Miss me?"

Bellatrix let out an incoherent shriek of a battle cry and threw a curse at him. Jack dodged it, because green light, and threw his own wordless spell at her, which she blocked easily. But before the fight could start in earnest, the sound of more wizards Apparating echoed around them, and Bellatrix- and all of the other Death Eaters, for that matter- had the sense to Disapparate out of it.

They were so quick to retreat that they dropped the innocent victims they had been levitating. Dropped from a great height, at that. Jack tried to catch them with the same spell, but only managed to get two of the seven victims, lowering them gently to the ground and cringing at the sound of snapping bones and screams from the others he had failed to save.

A quick scan of the area showed they had all lived, at least. It could have been a lot worse.

He turned and fled the scene before the wizarding authorities could catch him...

And he ran right into Ianto and the girl he had been with.

"You saved us." Ianto said, sounding surprised, "But you can't be any older than me."

"You'd be surprised." Jack said with a vague smirk. He glanced over his shoulder, to check he hadn't been followed, then turned to Ianto again, "This your girlfriend?"

Both blushed in a way that clearly said yes. "Her name's Liz. She-" he looked a bit unsure, "-she's a Muggle."

"But she's not surprised in the least. Scared, obviously, but..." Jack looked Liz with a smile.

"My brother's in Hogwarts." Liz said shakily.

"And if my father finds out I'm in any kind of contact with your world, he'll-"

"He'll be grateful I was here, I'm sure." Jack said with a smirk.

"That's... not what I meant." Ianto said, still blushing slightly.

"Look, you should get out of here, before the Aurors, or whoever those are, get all Obliviate-happy."

Ianto nodded quickly, "Thanks again."

"Happy to help." Jack grinned, "Really."

x x x

It had been quite some time since Jack left, and it was getting late now. The feeling of impending doom had entirely left Ianto about half an hour ago, when Jack and Sirius Apparated right next to him. "Liz?"

"Oh..." Ianto blushed at that.

"She's cute." Jack shrugged, sitting next to him, "You feeling any better?"

"Much." Ianto nodded.

"There's more to it. There has to be." Sirius said with a scowl as he sat across the table from them, next to Remus. "This isn't an isolated incident, there's half a dozen attacks going on across the country, that's why I only got two Aurors to show. They're spread thin against some kind of strategic onslaught."

"So what's Voldemort up to?" Harry- still looking like a member of the Weasley family- asked. He had come over to join Remus and Tonks about five minutes ago.

"No idea, but it's gotta be big. I've already signalled the Order." Sirius explained, "We should probably go join them." he added with a meaningful look at Remus and Tonks.

Both nodded, "I'm sure we won't be missed." Remus said distantly.

"I can help." Harry offered.

"No, you need to stay safe. As far away from them as possible." Sirius said commandingly, "Don't worry." he tapped his ear pointedly, "I'll let you know what we find out."

Harry reluctantly accepted this, as the three of them left, and he turned to look at Jack rather miserably. "Just goes from bad to worse." he muttered, slumping into the seat Remus has just vacated.

As if that was some kind of cue, a silvery image of a lynx- a Patronus- swept down through the canopy into the middle of the dance floor... and when it spoke, it was with the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

x x x

In the ensuing panic, people screaming, Apparating away, even crying, Harry immediately turned and ran to find Ron and Hermione without even a glance back. At the same time, others- Death Eaters- were Apparating in, surrounding them.

Jack looked to Ianto, "I just pissed off Bellatrix again, while I was out."

"I- I remember." Ianto said distantly, "I didn't before, but now..."

"Yeah, feels weird the first time you feel your own history change." Jack said with a shudder at the thought, "Pray you don't get used to it." he looked around at the panicking crowd- even Jack looked afraid now, "We should really leave while we can."

"But we can't Apparate, and-"

"And our taxi left early." Jack scowled, taking Ianto's hand. It was a protective gesture, but somehow wasn't all that comforting right now.

There weren't many of the wedding guests left... only the Weasley and Delacour families, and a few older guests. And of course three of only five students that had been invited who weren't family.

Luna sidled up to them, her father looming over her protectively, "Can't Apparate out, either?" she asked them airily.

"I've been practicing." Jack said quietly, "But I'm not ready to try side-along, and I wasn't about to leave Ianto behind."

"He still can't get the hang of bringing his clothes with him when he Apparates." Ianto informed them with all false seriousness, "I really don't think he should be trusted with another person."

Jack didn't say anything to that. He looked very much like he wanted to say something, but was refraining from doing so in front of the Lovegoods.

They were surrounded now. Nowhere to run even if they tried. There were no fewer than a dozen Death Eaters... and a tall thin figure that could be none other than Lord Voldemort himself. George Weasley opened his mouth to say something, but Ianto was quicker. A silencing spell with a flick of his left wrist. Wand still hidden there, even in this friendly environment, and boy was he glad he had thought to be so paranoid, now.

"What did you just do?" Jack asked.

"The boy who lost his ear was about to say something about the Dark Lord." Ianto whispered through gritted teeth.

"Oh dear." Jack said, trying not to laugh. He only just succeeded, while both Weasley twins glared at the pair of them, probably trying to figure out which one of them did it.

"Where is Harry Potter?" Voldemort demanded, eyeing the Weasley family entirely too intently. Everybody looked around, as if to see who would dare even speak up in the first place. "_WHERE IS HE?_" Voldemort yelled.

"We- we don't know." Arthur Weasley answered. His voice trembled with fear, but not breaking. "He wasn't invited."

Ianto approved of this, not just because it was misleading but because in the extremely technical sense it wasn't a lie.

"We haven't seen him." Molly Weasley agreed, just as nervously, though she diligently stood her ground between the Dark Lord and her daughter. Another technical truth.

Ianto looked at Luna, then Jack. Luna was staring airily into space somewhere to their right, while Jack- still holding Ianto's hand- scanned the ranks of the Death Eaters warily.

There was no evidence- as there usually was in the case of Bellatrix Lestrange- of any of the Death Eaters being female.

"She's not here, is she?" Ianto asked softly. Jack shook his head, not looking the least bit relieved for it.

But now some of the Death Eaters were moving among the crowd. Voldemort continued to yell at the Weasley family, but Ianto was watching the minions, who were terrorising and questioning the other guests. After a moment, one of them seemed to lose his temper, and yelled out "Crucio!"

A horrific shriek echoed for several seconds as the hapless victim fell to her knees.

"Filthy Mudblood!" the Death Eater snarled, and spat in the woman's face.

Ianto grabbed Jack's arm now to stop him from trying anything. He had been about to... had moved to step forward. It would have been suicide.

"Tell me where Potter is, _NOW!_" Voldemort yelled.

"We don't know." Molly Weasley insisted, near tears at this point.

Voldemort shook his head and snarled, "Avada Kedavra!"

The woman the Death Eater had attacked fell down dead.

This time Ianto failed to stop Jack, who stepped forward and all but shouted at Voldemort, "Even if we knew where he _had been_, which we don't- even if he had been _here_, which he wasn't- what are the odds we'd know where he is _now_?"

Great, now the murderous lunatic was paying attention to them. Just what they needed.

"He's brave." Luna whispered to Ianto, staring at Jack in that vague way she had, "Not smart... but brave."

Ianto shook his head and tried not to think about what could happen if Jack said the wrong thing here. Jack was very good at talking his way out of hell, but he usually felt the need to talk his way into it first.

Voldemort stalked slowly over to them, now, "And where do you think he _may _ be, then, child?"

"Probably somewhere he doesn't know. From what I've heard he only had two safe havens, one he's outgrown the other is closed for the summer." Ianto stared at Jack, who was actually meeting Voldemort's gaze steadily now. Not flinching, and not caught out in the lie.

Except it _wasn't _ a lie, was it? From what he'd _heard_... not from what he'd _seen_.

Voldemort continued to glare at Jack for a moment, then blinked once and turned away with a sneer of disgust. Behind the Dark Lord's back, Jack looked entirely too happy with this reaction for a moment, before composing himself again and glancing at Ianto.

Ianto rolled his eyes in answer. Jack was utterly incorrigible.

Meanwhile, Voldemort stalked away from the group, "Keep a close eye on them." he indicated the Weasleys as he spoke to a particular pair of Death Eaters, then to the group at large, "Bring any more... prisoners. We return to the Ministry."

The two Death Eaters he had spoken to remained, as the rest Apparated away, some dragging guests with them.

"Does this mean we can leave, now?" Luna asked the Death Eater near her, her tone perfectly cordial as if she was asking a good friend what time it was. The man grunted at her darkly, and shooed her away. "I suppose that's a yes."

"Any chance you could get us a Floo back to Cardiff?" Jack asked her.

She nodded sagely, "Oh, certainly."

As the Lovegoods led them away, Ianto gave one last concerned glance at the Weasley family. Molly was crying on her husband's shoulder, the boys were grouped together muttering mutinously, and Ginny was eyeing the nearest Death Eater like she wanted to curse him. It didn't bode well, but at least they were unharmed for now.

"We've had worse days, Jack." Ianto said, trying to sound reassuring, as they walked down the winding path away from the Burrow.

"I could have saved her." Jack said bitterly.

"I doubt it." Ianto said with a frown, "She was Muggle-born, and they're Death Eaters. If she couldn't Apparate away like the rest of the guests, she didn't stand a chance, even with your... unique brand of distraction."

Jack stopped in his tracks, suddenly looking terrified, "Muggle-borns..." he looked up at Ianto, "We've got old names, Ianto... but Tosh, Owen and Gwen..."

That was certainly a worrying thought, and something they needed to plan for.

x x x


	99. The Enemy Of My Enemy

x x x

**Chapter 99: The Enemy Of My Enemy**

x x x

Hermione Apparated Harry and Ron to Grimmauld Place. Right onto the doorstep, to be safe.

The encounter with Dolohov and Rowle in the Muggle cafe, after they had escaped the wedding, had shaken Hermione quite a bit, but she still managed to hit her mark with perfect accuracy now. Ron shoved the door open and barrelled in, closely followed by Harry. Hermione glanced behind her and quickly stepped in shutting the door carefully.

When she turned around to look down the hallway, she was surprised to find Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wand raised in a threatening sort of way, while Harry stood defensively between Malfoy, and Ron and Hermione, wand also raised ready for a fight.

"What brings you here, Potter?" Malfoy drawled.

"In case you missed it, the Death Eaters just took over the Ministry." Harry said coldly.

Malfoy didn't lower his wand, but he did frown as if disturbed by this news, "What did Jack say we acted like?"

Hermione recognised this immediately. It was a Polyjuice-proofing test. "Jealous girlfriends." Harry replied coolly, "What did you do when we saw the unicorn in the forest?"

Malfoy wrinkled his nose in disgust, "I ran away... but not before Fang did!" Ron snorted with poorly suppressed laughter.

Harry lowered his wand, nodding. Malfoy, however, turned on Ron, "What else did you think was funny about me, Weasley?"

"You mean when we first met, right?" Ron asked sceptically. Malfoy nodded slowly. "Well you _thought _ I was laughing at your name."

Now Malfoy's gaze turned on Hermione. She asked first, "Want another slap, do we, Malfoy?"

He backed down, "Not especially." he said, finally lowering his wand, and eyeing the three of them sceptically, "You must understand the need for caution."

"We should get Jack to do some propaganda about Polyjuice, for the Death Eaters." Hermione said brightly, "I'm sure that would reduce the danger."

"Do I want to know how?" Malfoy asked sceptically.

Hermione shrugged vaguely, glancing at Ron- who was miming retching again- and Harry who looked just as amused. "He claims it tastes like the person you're turning into." she answered simply, "I imagine the slogan 'tastes like Mudblood' would put them all right off."

"Hermione!" Ron protested. Even though really, she was Muggle-born, she didn't see the problem with repeating the word herself.

Malfoy's face went blank immediately. A bit pale even. "Crabbe and Goyle would kill me." he said flatly, before turning on his heel and walking off into the kitchen.

Harry, Ron and Hermione followed him into the deserted kitchen. "So you _were _ his girlfriend, right?" Harry asked cheerfully, as Ron proceeded to rummage through the cupboards for food, and Hermione settled at the table opposite Malfoy.

"Please don't say that too loudly or frequently in this house, Potter." Malfoy said coldly.

"Answer, then." he retorted.

Malfoy glared at him, "It's none of your business."

"He's not denying it." Ron cheered, finding a bag of snack food, "Isn't Harkness still underage? Like a felony?" He asked, carefully examining the contents of the bag, probably in case Fred or George had tampered with it.

"As if you would know anything about that, Weasley. I'll bet you're still a virgin!"

"That's none of your damned business, Malfoy!" Ron snarled, his ears turning red as they tended to when he was both angry and embarrassed.

Malfoy stared back at him darkly, "Oh, so your sex life- or lack thereof- is private, but mine is fair game, is that it?" he shook his head as if exasperated. Hermione almost sympathised. When boys got into this kind of teasing and competitive mood, she didn't much enjoy it either. "And regardless of the gender connotations, 'girlfriend' is hardly the right word."

"One night stand, according to Pansy." Harry put in.

Malfoy glowered, and growled through gritted teeth, "You know, I did ask- very politely, I thought- not to discuss this subject it in this house."

"Why?" Ron asked blankly.

"Well, look what we have here." Lucius Malfoy said coldly. He was standing in the doorway, watching them all with a cold and calculating gaze, "Uninvited guests."

"That's why." Draco muttered, only barely audible.

"This was our safe house before it was yours." Hermione informed Lucius coolly.

"Quite." Lucius said, ignoring her and watching Harry almost warily, "And what, pray tell, brings the golden boy of Gryffindor to hiding in such a manner?"

"Death Eaters took over the Ministry." Harry said coldly, standing up to Lucius just as he did every other supposed authority figure he disapproved of.

Lucius sighed, "A regrettable, but not unforeseen situation." he said almost bitterly. "This complicates matters."

"You knew this was going to happen?" Harry demanded.

"I knew it was one of the Dark Lord's goals. I did not know the strategy or planning involved." Lucius almost hissed, "Not that strategy was ever the Dark Lord's greatest talent, of course."

"If you don't like him, why'd you serve him all that time?" Ron asked coldly.

"Fear." Lucius said bluntly, but then his gaze drifted to Hermione, and he added somewhat disturbingly, "Mostly."

Hermione bristled at the obvious insinuation that he was still just as much of a prejudiced monster as before, but before she could say anything to it, Draco stood and turned to face him, "Father."

"Yes, Draco?" Lucius asked, all friendly now he wasn't looking at the Mudblood in the room. Only made Hermione even more angry at him.

"Granger is the most talented witch in our year." Draco said, frowning even as he spoke, as if it hurt him to admit this, "Right now we need all the allies we can get, and she's a good one. With the Dark Lord in power over the Ministry, I would be willing to crawl on my knees to beg Muggles to throw stones at him, if I thought it would help. We all need to just stop bickering and figure out a way to stop him before he hunts us down and slaughters us all like animals." Lucius was dumbstruck, even as Draco turned on Ron, "This includes you, Weasley. And our previous... discussion."

Ron balked at this. He was getting a speech on morals from Draco Malfoy of all people, and suddenly he looked downright ashamed... even if his ears were still burning that angry red colour that Hermione knew meant he wanted to punch the cause of it.

Lucius seethed for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists in anger. They were all surprised by another voice from the doorway speaking softly, "Draco's right, dear."

It was Narcissa Malfoy.

Lucius calmed down in an instant, turning to look at her with nothing but affection. "That doesn't mean I have to like it." he told her simply. Almost smiling even as he said that.

"Mutual." Ron grumbled, slouching in a chair and proceeding to eat his found snack-food. It appeared not to be cursed after all... or at least not with any immediate reaction.

x x x

Jack hadn't lied when he had told the Order the Trace didn't work on him. It was a setup that monitored all known witches and wizards from birth. It worked the same way as the Hogwarts Quill that wrote down the students' names.

But Dumbledore had told him, on his last night alive, that Jack's name- and the names of the other four Torchwood students- had been added _in the wrong handwriting_.

Jack had asked to see it, but Dumbledore had been unable- or unwilling- to comply. He wasn't sure which of his many time-influencing acquaintances he should suspect, but he would have recognised the handwriting of almost all of them. His first guess was Rose... or at least he guessed the Bad Wolf would use her handwriting.

He had gone to the trouble of checking the Trace records, over the first month of summer... which had involved enlisting Arthur Weasley's help in illegally copying Ministry records. Just to prove it wasn't the Fidelius Charm that was keeping them from getting in trouble. Jack, Ianto, Tosh, Gwen and Owen were not on any official Ministry records. They were not citizens of the British Wizarding community.

Ianto was on their records as a recognised wizard, but the Trace spell was on his past-self, who was living the Muggle life, blissfully oblivious to the fact that he had a doppelganger attending Hogwarts.

Luckily, they were enrolled Hogwarts students, and the wizarding world wasn't as up on border control as the twenty-first century Muggle world. Jack had a valid excuse built into the name he stole in the nineteen-forties, and Ianto had a proven bloodline. Owen, Gwen and Tosh, however, were a problem. Neither registered Muggle-borns, nor attached to a known family. Not that it really mattered, in the long run. The magic that brought them here would dissipate in about a year's time, and then they would hopefully be sent home.

Hopefully.

In the meantime, however... he was meeting in secret with a wizard who could help him.

"I really don't see what the bollocksing hell you expect me to do about it?"

"Just add his name. It should be easy enough, and we can help with the forgery if necessary."

"You have any idea the shitloads of trouble this could land me in?"

"You won't be caught, I promise."

"And say I am anyway?"

"We have a safe house."

"So why not keep the little bastard there?"

"Because we need as much flexibility as possible, and an extra man at Hogwarts would go a long way."

"Flexibility... yeah, I know you, Harkness, I'm not touching that one if you paid me."

"Smart move, Derrin... now seriously?"

"Siriusly..." Derrin Harper grinned, "Sure, if you take full responsibility for ensuring my safety. Also, I want compensation."

"What kind of compensation?" Jack asked warily.

"I hear good things from my name-thief about coffee."

Jack rolled his eyes, laughing, "Not a problem." He had expected far worse.

"It seems we have a deal." Derrin held out his hand, and Jack shook it.

x x x

It was the day after the wedding, and the inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place- most of whom had failed to sleep well for lack of trust in their reluctant allies- were now gathered around eating breakfast. Narcissa Malfoy had prepared it, but it was meagre enough that Harry was quite sure she had never cooked in her life before they had been forced to flee Malfoy Manor.

Ron had insisted Hermione check it for poison, but it was safe, and palatable enough. Harry knew rubbish food from living with the Dursleys, and this wasn't it... however much Draco's expression as he ate may suggest otherwise.

He kept his opinions to himself, though, so either he was used to it by now or he didn't want to hurt his mother's feelings. Possibly both.

The tension in the air had eased dramatically since Mr Weasley's Patronus has appeared the previous night. Its announcement that the rest of the Weasley family was safe had set all three Gryffindors' minds relatively at ease. Even Lucius' sneered remark of, 'All of them? Really?' hadn't dampened that small victory.

But if they were being watched, it wasn't a true victory, only a brief respite from the growing, gnawing fear.

The Sneakoscope sitting in the middle of the kitchen table spun rapidly, wheeling in circles and making the most noise, oddly enough, when it neared Hermione or Narcissa. It almost fell still every time it passed Ron, but both the Malfoy men caused less noise from it than Harry did.

Harry watched it whiz past Lucius one more time, then asked flatly, "So I'm guessing you don't have a plan?"

"What makes you think that?" Draco asked coldly.

Harry nodded to the Sneakoscope, and Draco sulked.

"It's not as if we aren't trying." he snapped, "We have been a bit isolated in here, the last couple of months."

A gloomy silence fell between them all for a moment, before the kitchen door suddenly opened. All six of them stood, wands drawn and aimed at the intruder... only to find that it was just Jack.

"Well good morning to you, too." he said cheerfully. He was holding a bag of some kind of takeaway food that smelled absolutely delicious, "I was trying to be nice by bringing breakfast, but..."

"I smell cinnamon buns!" Hermione said gleefully.

"What?" Lucius asked flatly.

"Yes, it's Muggle food. To be fair, all the shops in Diagon Alley are closed." Jack explained, setting the bag down and claiming one of only two spare seats at the table.

"It's not that we don't appreciate you appearing randomly in our top secret hideout." Draco said acidly, "With _Muggle _ food, at that. But maybe you should prove you're you? Politely."

Ron snorted with laughter, "Politely? You do know that'd be a giveaway it wasn't really him, right, Malfoy?"

Jack grinned cheerfully, "Harry... Room of Requirement, you asked me a question at Christmas a year ago."

"I thought we said politely." Harry snapped, blushing.

Draco laughed, "Pansy clawed you up, where, exactly, Jack?"

"Left side of my face. She was going for the eyes, though."

"I heard she cursed him?" Ron asked.

"It was Petrificus Totalus, while my back was turned." Jack said flatly, "And now even I want to change the subject."

Ron shrugged and snatched up one of the Muggle pastries. "Mmm, these're good." he tried to mumble past the snack food. He succeeded in not spitting crumbs, but failed in accurately articulating the words.

"I would have brought coffee, but Owen was with me and he stole it." Jack said with a shrug.

The Sneakoscope spun round past Jack and positively shrieked.

"What?" Jack asked innocently as all eyes turned on him, "I'm only plotting the downfall of a Dark Lord." They continued to stare. "And abusing the Pureblood elite caste system. Okay, I do have Muggle explosives in my school trunk... and plans to use them. You know, most of what's left after that is either literally unrepeatable, or something you don't _want _ me to repeat."

Harry snatched up the Sneakoscope and put it away.

"Muggle explosives?" Draco dared ask. Jack just shrugged innocently.

"Look, we need a plan to stop Voldemort." Harry said sharply. He felt a deep-seated sense of satisfaction that the Malfoys- and _only _ the Malfoys- flinched at that name.

Jack looked at him quizzically, "I thought we had a plan?"

"Well then I think it needs some refining." Harry retorted, "The 'plan' you're talking about isn't much to go on, is it? We don't know where to begin or how to do it!"

"You know him better than I do." Jack said carefully, "I think that's why everyone believes you're some prophesied hero... insider information."

"What's he talking about, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"He means how I can sometimes see what Voldemort's thinking." Harry grumbled, disgusted at this idea. He still had trouble keeping the visions out of his mind. Two days ago, Voldemort had been hunting for Gregorovich- a wandmaker- and just last night he had tortured Rowle for failing to capture Harry. It hurt physically and emotionally every time he saw one of these visions, and he certainly wasn't about to go seeking very specific ones.

However, the ominous silence at his words was broken by Draco asking, "He- he can't see what _you're _ thinking, can he?"

"Not after last time." Harry couldn't help the smirk at that.

"What did you do?" Jack asked grinning.

"Exactly what you taught me. Thought of something that hurt him."

"I... do not want to know." Draco said, backing off a step and laughing.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Positive emotion. I know _you _ wouldn't understand the concept, Malfoy, seeing how you thrive off the misery of others... but that's exactly _why _ it hurts Voldemort."

"Not quite how I did it... but if it works." Jack laughed.

"How you did what?" Ron asked sceptically.

"After the wedding... he showed up in person to demand to know where you were." he glanced at Ron, "Your parents are very good liars, by the way... telling the truth in a misleading way is the only way to fool a good telepath."

"Let me guess, you did something brave and foolish." Draco said darkly.

"He killed one of the guests." Jack snapped, "I didn't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Except yourself." Draco insisted.

"I'm-" he hesitated a second, almost as if he was physically unable to say the words he originally intended, "I'm expendable."

"You should have been in Gryffindor." Draco sniped.

Jack snorted, "If only you knew, Draco." he turned back to Harry, "The point is, I managed to keep him from reading my mind... not by force of will, like everyone thinks you should need to, but by distraction."

"Oh dear." Draco muttered, trying not to laugh.

"Jealous, Malfoy?" Ron asked slyly.

"Shut your mouth, Weasley, or I'll shut it for you!" Draco snarled.

"Boys!" Hermione interrupted angrily, before turning to look at Jack, "I'm assuming the plan you mentioned to Harry is the one he told us about as well?"

"And the plan we apparently know nothing about." Lucius sneered.

"Because we don't trust you." Ron growled.

Harry shook his head, "Lucius." he turned sharply to look up at the man who was still a good half foot taller than him even now. "You remember that diary you slipped to Ginny Weasley?"

Lucius opened his mouth to immediately deny it, but then he hesitated and silently, reluctantly, nodded.

"Do you have any idea what it was, besides cursed?" Harry asked carefully, trying his best to keep his tone neutral and not as confrontational as he felt about it.

"I had been instructed by the Dark Lord to keep it hidden and secure." Lucius explained calmly, "After his apparent demise, I all but forgot about it. However, after your somewhat dramatic year at Hogwarts, and in particular when Draco would not desist in spending the entire summer telling me how much he hated you, I found myself drawn to the book. It gave me instructions, which it explained would help me to remove Dumbledore from power at Hogwarts. Thereafter I had planned to BUY a Headmaster that I could control myself. I had no knowledge of the details of its... intentions. Only that it made me uncomfortable, and I did not wish Draco to get involved with it, or I may have given it to him." He glanced at his son now, "I am very glad I didn't. I doubt you would have been so interested in saving your enemy as you were your little... fan girl."

Ron clenched his fists in rage at the reminder of what happened to Ginny all those years ago, but he did manage to hold back any attack- either verbal or physical.

Harry thought about this for a minute, glanced at Draco, "The diary made it clear its victim would die. I've been told I have a saving people thing... even if I don't like the people so much."

"You wouldn't!" Ron protested.

"I might have had to do it without you, that's all." Harry shrugged.

Ron seethed a bit, but grumbled, "You know you're gonna get yourself killed trying to save everyone, one of these days."

"It's not as fun as it sounds." Jack offered far too cheerfully, "Dramatic, though. Daleks are better than demons."

"What are Daleks?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"Xenophobic genocidal maniacs." Jack said brightly, "We should introduce them to Voldemort... could be fun."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Look..." he turned to Lucius, "Did Voldemort ever tell you anything about the diary? Or that there might be others like it?"

"No, he did not." Lucius said coldly, sneering in apparent disgust as he added, "One of his few saving graces as an otherwise abominable strategist, he does not trust easily."

However, Narcissa seemed to have thought of something, having perked up attentively at Harry's question, "Bellatrix did claim to have been entrusted with something precious to the Dark Lord."

"She used the word!" Jack laughed mockingly.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"That's it, can we make Lord of the Rings jokes, now?" Jack asked far too eagerly.

"Lord of the what?" Ron asked.

Hermione stared at Jack, "Oh, no. Please, no."

Jack was only just fighting back the urge to laugh, "Oh, come on... train a House elf to talk like Smeagol... it'd be hilarious!"

"I think we're getting side tracked again." Draco said coldly, "You do that a lot, Jack."

"Right sorry. Beautiful Bella has the precious, does she?" Jack asked brightly.

"Jack. No." Draco warned.

"What?" Jack asked innocently.

"Not Bellatrix." Draco insisted. Jack pouted. Draco rolled his eyes, "He needs a muzzle and leash." he informed the others flatly.

"He'd enjoy it too much." Harry pointed out.

"Guys... sidetracked?" Hermione insisted.

"Right... we need to find out where Bella's hiding her precious." Jack said with far too much innuendo in his words to be in any way decent.

"This conversation's doing my head in." Ron whined.

"We could get him neutered." Draco suggested entirely too cheerfully.

"Doubt it would help much." Ron grumbled.

x x x


	100. Trains, Planes, And Time Travel

x x x

**Chapter 100: Trains, Planes, And Time Travel**

x x x

While Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the last half of the summer trying to figure out how to get close to and then steal something from Bellatrix Lestrange, team Torchwood had been preparing for all-out war. Jack had not been joking about explosives in his school trunk. He had also managed to convince his past self to get him some real guns as well.

It had taken a lot of 'persuading', but he knew from previous experience (not all of it John Hart, either) that even he was not immune to fifty-first century charm from someone who knew what they were doing.

Gwen and Tosh had protested at being left behind, but after assurances that Jack had tried to find pureblood families with their surnames, and failed to do so- that it was the wizarding world's elitist caste system to blame and not any semblance of the sexism or faux chivalry that Gwen had started to grumble about- they had agreed to stay in the flat.

Tosh had insisted they relay homework assignments to her. Owen had grudgingly agreed to perform this duty.

Now they were boarding the Hogwarts Express. The entrance to the platform was flanked by Death Eaters, who glowered sceptically at each child who passed, and stopped an inordinate number of those wearing red. Even if they weren't school robes, it seemed just liking Gryffindor's house colour was enough.

One of them stopped Owen, who grumbled about Umbridge and forks. "Oh, you. Get moving then, kid." the Death Eater sounded almost nervous.

"I even brought a fork, just in case." Owen chirped brightly, producing the object in question from a pocket and waving it around dangerously, "Read a bit about wandmaking, was thinking of trying to make a fork-wand. Didn't work. Gonna see if Fawkes can help me try again."

"God help us all." Ianto said with some sarcastic melodrama.

"Why would he even waste his time?" Jack asked.

"Element of surprise not a good Slytherin trait, then?" Owen asked sceptically.

"You have no idea how not the point that is." Ianto said.

The two Death Eater guards were joined by four more, and boarded the train as well, after all the students were seated. "This is not good." Owen muttered, watching after one who had just stalked ominously past the compartment they shared with Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley.

"There aren't any Muggle-borns on the train, are there?" Jack asked Ginny, who shook her head.

"We warned them all off." she said simply, "Death Eaters were too dumb to guard the _outside _ of the platform, and most of them knew the way things were turning from the Prophet already."

At this point a Hufflepuff sixth year Prefect slipped into the compartment, "Bloody reminds me of the Dementors, those ones do." he said in a Welsh accent.

"Hello, Banana." Luna said chirpily.

"Luna, you know my name's Colin." the boy corrected her in a tone that implied it was for the dozenth time, "How would you like it if I called you Loony?"

Luna shrugged, "A lot of people do. I don't mind."

Jack, meanwhile, eyed the boy up in a calculating way. He seemed awfully familiar. A glance at Ianto told him that yes, he was someone they should recognise.

"Colin Davies, right?" Ianto asked with innocent curiosity. "Lindsay and Roger's brother." Colin nodded. Ianto leaned over and whispered in Jack's ear, "Banana Boat." Of course. Gwen's boyfriend's best friend. Except they hadn't actually met yet.

Jack checked Colin out one more time, "I see where he gets that nickname."

Ianto elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Colin was blatantly confused, while Luna just stared distantly at the somewhat plump boy for a second, before leaning her head quite purposefully on Neville's shoulder... much to Neville's apparent confusion.

After a moment, he shook his head and turned to face Ginny directly, "I heard you'd be the people to talk to about La Resistance?"

Ginny looked startled for a second, then slyly asked, "What ever makes you think that?"

"Besides overhearing you talking about protecting Muggle-borns- you ought to use silencing charms you know- Ernie Macmillan's trying to recruit for the some kind of army."

"That's just a name." Neville blurted out, "We're not really- well..."

"We've done some things armies can't." Luna said mistily.

Jack smirked, "You know what, Colin you can have my seat. I need to see check up on some friends."

"He means interrogate some classmates." Ianto said innocently.

"That, too." Jack agreed, standing and slipping past the Prefect- though given what he had heard of Banana Boat, he did have to wonder how _that _ happened- and out of the compartment.

Jack had only just made it as far as the next carriage of the train when he was accosted by two of the Death Eater guards. "Where you think you're going, Mudblood?" one of them demanded. He recognised the voice as Antonin Dolohov.

"Who do you think you're calling Mudblood, you genetically deficient homozygote?"

"What did you just call me?" Dolohov demanded angrily.

"Homo-what?" the other one asked sceptically.

"Probably not what you think it sounds like, which is a good thing, because you're really not my type." Jack said brightly, "I prefer my psychopaths to be violent bastards towards all races equally."

The other Death Eater, whom Jack didn't recognise, pointed a wand at him threateningly, "You better shut your mouth, Mudblood. You're in enough trouble already."

"At least you're asking me to keep my mouth closed. Rules out several bad things you could be planning." Jack retorted, beginning to get a bit angry at this, "And I will repeat, what the hell makes you think I'm a Mudblood? You do know who I am, right?"

"Jack Harkness." the other Death Eater growled, "And we've got evidence that says your father is a Muggle."

"Checked out your boss's bloodlines lately?" Jack demanded sharply.

The as yet unidentified Death Eater backhanded him across the face. "Don't you _dare _ talk about our Lord and Master like that."

"Oh, now you've done it." Jack said, smirking darkly, "You said the magic word. Now I'm going to make your life hell... what's your name again?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange." the man answered darkly, "And you're in no position to make threats, Harkness."

"Oh, you're Bella's boy." Jack laughed, "Is she really as wild in bed as Snape says?" Of course, Jack really didn't really know or care if this was true, or even possible... it was simply designed to anger.

And boy did it work. "_CRUCIO!_" Rodolphus snarled, and Jack doubled over in pain.

He slumped against the wall, but with a great deal of effort he managed to keep himself from falling to the ground, and even managed to bite out through gritted teeth, "I've had better."

That earned him a swift kick to the gut, but at least it distracted Rodolphus from holding the curse any longer. "You little bastard!" Rodolphus growled.

Jack affected a puzzled look, "If I'm a bastard, how do you know who my father is?"

"_CRUCIO!_"

This time he failed to stay standing, but he still held back the instinct to scream.

After what felt like an eternity, but he was fairly sure was really only a few seconds, the curse was lifted. It left him shaking, but with some determination he glowered up at the Death Eater, "Is that really the best you've got?" he asked in as cheerfully irreverent a tone as he could conjure past the echoes of the pain.

This time the kick was to the face, and he felt a crack in his cheekbone where the worst of the impact hit.

"You'll pay for that, Harkness!" Rodolphus snarled.

A loud bang like a gunshot- which in the wizarding world usually meant Apparating- sounded behind Jack, and a female voice spoke calmly, "I suggest you children leave this boy alone." She sounded like an older woman, but her voice held an edge of cold steel that sent a chill up Jack's spine.

Turning his head to look up at her was even more chilling. She was tall and elegant, seemingly wreathed in magical power like a cloak. Silver hair held back in a style somewhere between Victorian beauty and Bride of Frankenstein, and deep purple robes that swirled as if in a breeze, even though the air was still. Formidable didn't even begin to cover it. Professor McGonagall would have quailed in this woman's presence.

"Who're you to call us children, crone?" Dolohov demanded darkly.

"For men who put such stock in bloodlines, the obvious answer seems to elude you." the woman said calmly, "Get out of my sight, this instant, and if you should ever threaten my name again, you will come to beg me to return you to your _Lord _ for his mercy shall be kinder than mine."

And now it clicked. _This _ was Agatha Harkness. Had to be, no question.

The two Death Eaters exchanged fearful looks. Then promptly turned and fled. Jack grinned, now fully understanding why Draco always talked up his father so much... Jack was too used to the roles being reversed to know before now just how much _fun _ having scary backup could be.

He pulled himself to his feet with more effort than he allowed to show, turning fully to face the woman who had rescued him. She was stern, magically strong, and held an air of elegance and grace that- while she was clearly old- made her positively beautiful for her age... which was, if Jack recalled correctly, over two hundred.

That cold steel in her eyes didn't soften as her gaze fell on him, and he found it positively frightening. Not much scared Jack anymore. Only Time Lords- and on one occasion Dumbledore- had managed it since he had figured out that he was immortal... but this witch was simply so intimidating. So powerful.

With a sharp flick of her wrist, she beckoned Jack to follow her, and stepped into an empty compartment nearby.

Jack complied without hesitation.

x x x

While Jack was gone, a Ravenclaw boy stuck his head into the compartment, "Jones, Davies, what're you two doing back here?"

"Talking to my friends." Ianto said coldly. He recognised the boy as Terry Boot, a seventh year Prefect. Ianto also knew exactly why Terry was bothering them. He hadn't told the rest of the team, but he had received a Prefect badge in his letter this year.

"Avoiding you." Colin Davies said cheerfully.

"Hurry up, the Prefects' meeting is about to start!" Terry snapped.

Ianto sighed and stood up. So much for subtlety. He had especially hoped Owen wouldn't find out until much later, but he was also somewhat dreading how Jack would react to it.

"Prefect?" Owen spluttered. Ianto tried to ignore it, "Why am I not surprised?"

"We get to Hogwarts... you get a silencing spell." Ianto growled at him, "I would love to take house points from you, but I get the feeling Gryffindor are going to be somewhat... challenged... in that department this year."

Owen flipped him off.

Ianto shrugged and left the compartment, following Terry and Colin right up to the front of the train.

There they found the rest of the Prefects in a much larger compartment, gathered around a table with tea and snacks. Head Boy and Head Girl were Terry Boot, and surprisingly- considering her grades and attitude- Pansy Parkinson.

Gryffindor was represented by Seamus Finnegan and Parvati Patil from seventh year, Andrew Kirke and Maria Johnson from sixth year, and Demelza Robins and Alan Williamson from fifth year.

Ravenclaw had Terry Boot and Padma Patil from seventh year. Calliope Summers and Brian Topp from sixth year- in large part because the _only _ other female in her house and year who _hadn't _ been Muggle-born was, well, Luna. And Marcus Belby and Melinda Bobbin in fifth year.

Hufflepuff's other Prefects were Wayne Hopkins and Susan Bones from seventh year, Colin Davies and Katherine Smith from sixth year, and Beth Halliwell in fifth year with Ianto.

Slytherin were the clearly dominant group, with Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini from seventh year, Tisiphone Carrow and Nathaniel Travers from sixth year, and Lucy Rosier and Mark Avery from fifth year. Of those six, Blaise was the only one _not _ directly related to a Death Eater- or in Pansy's case one of their most avid yet non-participating advocates.

"There's going to be some changes this year." Pansy said with malicious cheer, "For a start, only Slytherin Prefects are allowed to take points from their own house."

"That should work both ways, Pansy." Terry said immediately, staring at her in a way that said he had clearly not been given a copy of the script before the meeting. "If we're no one else is allowed to take points from Slytherin, then Prefects just plain shouldn't be allowed to take points from each other's houses at all."

"Sorry, these rules were handed to me by the new headmaster personally." Pansy said brightly, "It doesn't say anywhere we're not allowed to take points from you. Sorry." She said, blatantly not sorry in the least.

"We've been given a new rules list." Pansy continued, cheerfully handing out sheets of parchment to each of them, "I suggest you memorise them."

Ianto looked at his copy.

'_All rule-breakers, regardless of their crimes,_  
><em>are to be given detention with the new Dark Arts<em>  
><em> teacher in addition to any other punishment the<em>  
><em> Prefects andor teachers assign._

_The name of the Dark Lord is not to be spoken_  
><em> within castle walls. Offenders will be dealt<em>  
><em> with by the subject of their conversation,<em>  
><em>personally.<em>

_All students acting suspiciously in the eyes_  
><em> of a Prefect or teacher may be stopped and<em>  
><em> searched. Offending objects found during such<em>  
><em> searches will be dealt with at the Prefect's<em>  
><em> discretion.<em>

_Questioning Prefects or teachers will be a_  
><em> detention-worthy offence.<em>'

It went on like that... the curfew was earlier, practically back to mass-murderer-loose-on-school-property level. A long list of new rules that Dolores Umbridge would have been proud of, followed by an even longer list banned objects that Flich would positively wet himself over.

Slytherins were now treated as favourites. Most of the sanctions on student behaviour were aimed- often indirectly so as to appear civilised about it- at the other three houses. Pansy's announcement about the disparity in Prefect powers was actually the most obvious discrimination, but not the only one by a long shot.

The hierarchy literally went Head Girl, Slytherin Prefects, Head Boy, Slytherin students, other Prefects, everyone else.

Everyone read these new rules, and exchanged looks amongst themselves. Ianto was the first to stand, "If that's everything?"

"Yes." Pansy positively chirped, grinning happily.

Ianto turned and left, and just as he had expected all the other non-Slytherin Prefects followed him closely. Exactly one carriage away from the Slytherins, "_THIS IS BULLSHIT!_" Seamus Finnegan yelled.

Murmurs of agreement and mutinous mutterings about these ridiculous new restrictions that had just been placed on them echoed around the rest of the Prefects present. "What can we do about it?" Padma asked edgily, looking around as if afraid of getting caught even thinking about doing something about it.

"We need to avoid giving them reason to give us trouble." Ianto said promptly. The others all looked at him. "I'm sure they'll try their best anyway, but if we can just make sure everyone in our houses knows just how volatile the situation is, we can at least limit the damage."

"Hate to admit this..." Kirke said, "But he's right. We need to lay low and behave for now."

"Why do you hate that?" Belby demanded irritably, "We're _supposed _ to obey the rules anyway."

"There's a different between obeying the rules and rolling over for the Slytherins to kick us while we're down." Parvati said, somewhat sulky about it.

"Unfortunately, we need to do the latter." Padma said softly.

"Look, everyone." Terry said quickly, "We can't afford to argue. Remember what the Sorting Hat said, united we stand, divided we fall, and all that?"

"The Slytherins seem to have forgotten." Seamus grumbled.

"That doesn't mean we should." Terry insisted, "We have to all work together, and all toe the line. Make sure all the students in our houses do, too. It's the only way to keep the peace."

While everyone nodded, reluctantly agreeing with this, it was still hard to swallow. It was Seamus who snorted loudly and announced precisely what they had all been thinking, "What peace?"

x x x

The second Jack stepped into the compartment the door shut and locked itself behind him. He felt other spells- probably privacy spells- cast upon the door, but by the time he turned to look at Agatha she was already calmly putting her wand back into a pocket of her robes.

"Sit." she said simply. Such authority, and so stern... it was almost physically impossible to disobey. Once Jack was seated- though Agatha remained standing- she began to speak in a serious tone that brooked no argument. "You know who I am, of course."

"Agatha Harkness." Jack answered.

She nodded slowly and continued, "Neither I, nor any of my family, have lived in Britain for longer than five years. Certainly none had children during that time. When I heard a child was claiming relation to me at Hogwarts, I chose to investigate further. What I found would be quite unbelievable to some."

Jack blinked innocently.

"You are a time traveller, and recently cursed by youth. That is the only possible explanation for the evidence I uncovered."

At this Jack looked away, not wanting to admit it, but unable to deny it to this woman either.

"You took your name in nineteen forty-one, after meeting my grandson in Cardiff."

Jack stared up at her in surprise, "Not quite the order of events, from my perspective." he admitted. "I stole the name from a list of the dead. Met him later... relatively."

At this _she _ looked away. She seemed like she was trying to hide pain, which was reasonable considering it was her dead grandson they were talking about. However, when she looked back at him it was with that same ice and venom she had directed at the Death Eaters. "I only allow you to live this day for the greater good of the future... and for the time that passed since _you caused his death_."

"I did not!" Jack snapped, rising to his feet, offended by the suggestion, "He died in a training accident, that wasn't-" But it wasn't her words that cut him off... it was the pure rage in her eyes that stalled him.

"He was shot down during an activity that only involved his own Muggle allies. The morning after they witnessed him kissing another man."

Jack backed away a step, horror washing over him at those words. He hadn't even considered that possibility. And hadn't he witnessed the prejudice enough that he should have? That people who fought in a war together, side by side, trusted each other with their lives, could possibly turn on one another for such silly trivial delusions of inequality. It was disgusting, vile, and unthinkable to him. "Damn twentieth century." he muttered darkly.

But then something else occurred to him. This great power of her era was declining the opportunity to take revenge against one she considered had caused her grandson's death.

"Why don't you want to kill me?" he asked, looking up at her warily. He might not have been above that petty vengeance in her position.

"You wish me to change my mind?" she asked coldly.

"You said for the greater good." Jack countered.

"Blood is the most valuable magical resource there is." Agatha said calmly, "And I unearthed quite ominous rumours of it in my hunt for you. You should look to the old lines that bear new names. Non-magical names."

She turned to leave, but Jack had to ask, "What about the war? You're rumoured to be the greatest witch in centuries, won't you-"

"I will not interfere." she gave him a stern look, "Your Dark Lord's power is confined to one island, and for me to act against him would make him realise it... and draw attention to my surviving family."

With that, she Disapparated and the spells on the door vanished with her.

x x x


	101. Balance of Power

x x x

**Chapter 101: Balance of Power**

x x x

The Great Hall was almost silent, as the students arrived. None of the cheerful gossip or loud chatter usually associated with large groups of children. Only hushed whispers and nervous murmuring. They were all awed and frightened by the new Death Eater regime. Nobody wanted to be first to step out of line. Nobody wanted to be the example made for the rest.

Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables were next to each other, and the groups that gathered nearest one another were telling. Ginny, Neville, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender, Owen, Demelza, Vicky and Romilda all sat together, the three younger girls were all around Ginny asking questions.

Right across from them, all of the Hufflepuff prefects- with the exception of the seventh year Wayne Hopkins, who had made a point of being available to greet the new first years- had joined Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, as well as a few younger students who seemed to have latched on to their house's D.A. representatives.

Prefects and D.A. grouped together in perfect range for conspiring. Ernie was even leaning over to the Ravenclaw table to converse with Padma and Terry. Ianto somehow doubted this convenient arrangement would be allowed to last for very long, but he did make a point of sitting directly across the aisle from Owen.

"Something tells me this is going to be a hell of a year." Owen muttered darkly.

"Possibly literally." Ianto agreed, staring off across the hall at the Slytherin table.

Jack had surrounded himself on two sides with his allies- the ones he had invited to the D.A.- but he had also left space next to him, and pointedly glowered at the other Slytherins who tried to take said seats until they went away. Slytherin was the only table almost full, everywhere else had empty seats where there ought not to have been.

"Trying to decide if it's worth the trouble to smuggle in a Weevil and set it loose in the teacher's lounge." Owen said, suddenly sounding eager.

"Only if you can train it to only attack Death Eaters." Ianto said dismissively.

"Bet the Dark Mark smells of something." Owen pondered, "Or if all else fails, maybe Imperius?"

"Don't sink to their level, Owen!" Demelza snapped at him from his own table.

"If you had a choice between a legal spell that may or may not kill someone attacking you, or Imperioing them to stop, which would you choose, goody-goody?" Owen asked her.

Demelza glared, but didn't answer.

"Or if someone was gonna hurt themselves? Hostage situation?"

"Owen." Ianto warned, "Don't start."

"There are far more _bad _ uses of the Imperius curse than good." Ginny agreed coldly.

"There's more bad things a Muggle can do with a gun than good, but they're legal." Owen retorted.

"Owen, I will silence you."

"Go ahead and try, bird-boy." Owen jeered, "Whole staff table watching. Hey, who're those two?"

Ianto looked up at the staff table and saw two rather haggard looking individuals seated next to Snape. Snape, meanwhile, was occupying the Headmaster's chair. Ianto didn't recognise them, but he was quite certain they were bad news.

He was saved from admitting to his lack of knowledge, however, by the doors opening at the back of the hall and a much smaller group of first years than usual trooping nervously up the centre aisle between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

"Here's betting they all end up in Slytherin." Owen grumbled as he watched.

x x x

"It's got to be easier than you're making it sound, Ron." Hermione insisted, "Dumbledore wouldn't leave us completely in the dark. He must have left clues." Three of the four teenagers in Grimmauld Place were gathered around a table in what had once been Regulus Black's room. Draco was sitting on the bed pretending to ignore them while reading the copy of the Daily Prophet Sirius had brought them this morning.

Only after his father had finished with it, of course.

"I still don't see why we're trusting Malfoy with this." Ron growled.

"Maybe because I guessed on my own?" Draco offered darkly, peering over the paper, "Jack acts like he _wants _ his friends to figure out every dark little secret about him, sometimes."

"Yeah, well this was _my _ secret, thanks." Harry said with false cheer, "But we'll welcome all the help we can get."

"Look, we know there's a locket somewhere." Hermione observed, "Jack dispelled the diadem for us, God only knows how. Dumbledore destroyed the ring, and Harry took care of the diary. That only leaves the goblet, and if Dumbledore's right Nagini."

"Bellatrix must have the goblet." Harry insisted, "But we can't get to it."

"Shame it was the Lestrange vault, not the Blacks." Draco said vaguely, "Either your mongrel or my mother could have just walked straight into the Black vault."

"Bellatrix could just walk straight into her own vault." Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Nobody wants to know what she tastes like, Hermione." Ron grumbled, pulling a face.

"Who would be able to get close enough to steal a hair, either?" Harry asked.

"You know, in spite of appearances, I'm pretty sure she owns a hairbrush." Draco offered, "But it's probably somewhere in the manor."

"She probably also owns a cat." Ron added, glancing at Hermione who blushed furiously at this.

Draco glanced down at the paper, "Oh, that's just sick."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"They've instated the Dementor's Kiss as a punishment for- and I am quoting so please don't slap me- 'Mudbloods found guilty of stealing magic'. They're saying if you have a wand and don't have an old family, then obviously you must have _stolen _ that wand from a real witch or wizard." Draco looked up at the other three with an expression of disgust, "Even I wouldn't buy that bull, and you know how I feel about bloodlines."

Harry moved over to sit next to Draco, reading over his shoulder.

"There's already two dozen names down for this, to be executed next week." he said, horrified, "We have to stop them!"

"Yes, because I've always wanted to gate crash a blind date with a Dementor." Draco sneered, looking up at him, "You know what security is like in those places, right?"

Harry glared right back, "You know I have a saving people thing, right? You volunteered to work with me."

"I'm beginning to regret that." Draco muttered sulkily.

"The security in the Ministry is mostly Dementors these days." Hermione said with a scowl, "I've been reading up on the changes for a while now. The only humans there are workers, probably wouldn't be up to a good duel."

"So... big Dementor orgy?" Draco asked, feigning cheer, "No bloody way, Granger."

"Patronus charms." Hermione said flatly, "Everyone in the Order can do them, and Harry's is brilliant."

"Then I'm definitely staying out of it." Draco sneered, "I've tried learning that spell."

"And failed?" she asked him expectantly. Draco glowered, but nodded. "Maybe you didn't have a good enough teacher?" she glanced at Harry now.

Draco followed her gaze with some distaste, but when he spoke it was more with resignation than refusal, "Oh no."

x x x

"_Over one thousand years ago,_  
><em>In times of dark and plight,<em>  
><em>Four great sorcerers arose,<em>  
><em>To fight for what was right.<em>

_To take in those who did not know,_  
><em>Their true potential power,<em>  
><em>And train them all in magic arts,<em>  
><em>Illuminate that darkest hour.<em>

_Proud Gryffindor in plate of gold,_  
><em>With ruby sword in hand,<em>  
><em>For righteous cause, noble and bold,<em>  
><em>Would rally all the land.<em>

_Sweet Hufflepuff so warm of heart,_  
><em>Love and kindness she defends,<em>  
><em>Enduring loyalty from the start,<em>  
><em>Resilient and true right to the end.<em>

_Fair Ravenclaw of sharpest mind,_  
><em>In robes of midnight blue,<em>  
><em>For the future of all wizardkind,<em>  
><em>Sought wisdom clear and true.<em>

_Sly Slytherin of wit and cunning,_  
><em>Aspired to greatest height,<em>  
><em>Ambition, will and understanding,<em>  
><em>What must be done for what is right.<em>

_Their will to raise us above the rest,_  
><em>To put all our powers to the test,<em>  
><em>For all their work and all their zest,<em>  
><em>To make our Hogwarts school the best.<em>

_Now here before you do I sit,_  
><em>The Sorting Hat am I, and this is it,<em>  
><em>To which house your best suited I shall see,<em>  
><em>And put you where you need to be.<em>"

Jack smiled faintly as he listened to the song. It sounded like a rallying cry to war, only thinly veiled behind praise to nobility and Slytherin values.

He glanced at his classmates- the ones he trusted- and gave them a somewhat amused questioning look.

Nott was grinning almost eagerly... he liked it.

Vance looked somewhat grim, and Jack was actually quite surprised he was even here. That nobody had tried to stop him coming to Hogwarts, given his history. Maybe they didn't have proof of what he had done, or maybe they valued his pure blood too much to bother. Either way, he clearly read the call to fight into the song, as well.

Malcolm and Zoe where whispering to each other about it, sounding quite enthusiastic.

"I like that song." the second-year girl, Melanie announced. She had managed to seat herself right opposite Jack in spite of his intention to avoid everyone but his own close circle of friends.

"Makes it sound like half our house knows the difference between right and wrong, though." Derrin grumbled in a sarcastic tone that made it clear he didn't think so. Jack had to agree with his sentiments on that.

But then the students started getting Sorted.

Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor...

"Are we getting anybody this year?" Derrin asked, as yet another student ran off to the Ravenclaw table.

"Stands to reason." Zoe said flatly, "If the Hat believes in fairness, then it needs to even the numbers."

It wasn't until the 'M's when they finally got a new Slytherin first year. A girl called Livia McLeod, who promptly sat next to Jack. He had deliberately engineered the seating arrangements to encourage the new students to sit near him, and now he greeted her warmly... trying to ignore the look he _knew _ Owen was giving them.

He would have to maim Owen later.

"Welcome to Slytherin." Jack said to her.

"Only the best students get put here." Derrin agreed.

"Which leads us to wonder how you made the cut, Harper." Zoe chided cheerfully.

"Don't mind these big lugs." Melanie said cheerfully, "You stick with me, I'll show you the ropes."

Livia smiled shyly, and nodded to her with a quiet mutter of, "Thanks."

Jack frowned slightly at Melanie. The girl was effectively poaching, but he had never seen any sign from her that she was future Death Eater material, so he would let it slide for now and try to make friends with both girls at once later.

Maybe enlist Zoe's help. She was a bit like a Slytherin Gwen... at least with the people-skills side of things.

The next new Slytherin was Peony Parkinson. Almost a perfect likeness of her older sister, and she made a point of ignoring Jack's planned seating arrangements and settling herself smugly right next to the new Head Girl, instead.

Tavion Savage was the third Slytherin of the year, and the first boy. He sat beside Livia, looking quite sullen and miserable about it.

"Welcome to Slytherin." Jack greeted warmly, but Tavion just shot him a disdainful look and continued to sulk quite dramatically.

Jack looked up across the table and Vance, then darted his eyes towards Tavion. Vance rolled his eyes, but then nodded and faked a convincing smile for the new kid. "Hey, it's not all bad."

"I just got told by a bit of old cloth that I'm evil. Not all bad?" Tavion asked coldly.

"We're not all evil." Derrin defended. Everyone stared at him. "Oh, come on, I'm not evil! I'm just inappropriate!"

"There's worse in Gryffindor." Jack agreed.

Tavion scowled at this, "My whole family's been in Gryffindor." he said darkly.

Adrienne Selwyn was the last Slytherin to be Sorted. Everyone else got nearly the full complement of students- each dorm was set up for five boys and five girls per year. Gryffindor was short by two, but Slytherin only got three girls and one boy.

It actually _didn't _ even the numbers at all. The vast majority of Muggle-borns had been in the other three houses, and they were all absent now. Those few Muggle-borns who had previously been placed in Slytherin had known how to get around that detail. Their house was almost as good a shield as their surnames.

It quickly became clear that Selwyn and Peony were friends already. Leaving Livia looking even more upset by the turn of events than Tavion seemed to be.

Jack leaned across to where Millicent Bullstrode and Tracey Davis were sitting, "Hey, girls. Help me out here."

"How?" Millicent asked flatly.

"We all know what Pansy's like, and her little sister's acting just as prissy." Jack said flatly, "With being so short on numbers, I think it'd be a good idea, to prevent bullying among other reasons."

"There's always other reasons." Tracey said with a smile.

"McLeod isn't exactly on good terms with those two girls, and Savage will be on his own." Jack insisted.

The girls looked at him like he'd gone completely insane. "You're suggesting..." Tracey began, "That we put her in with him?"

"Why not?" Jack asked, "I'm asking you two, because you're the most senior Slytherin girls that I trust."

"Supervision, is it?" Tracey asked, "I could be up for babysitting."

Millicent considered it for a moment, "You know, that's not such a bad idea. It's a five bed dorm, we could stay with them. It would get Pansy out of our hair."

"You need at least one boy, to keep it from being entirely unfair." Jack pointed out.

"Volunteering, are you, Harkness?" Millicent asked with a grin.

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Poor children." Tracey said in mock horror.

"I can behave myself when I want to." Jack defended.

"Yeah, remind me how well you behaved yourself with Draco, last year." Nott cut across their conversation.

"Don't we get a say in this?" Livia asked.

"Of course." Jack turned to her and Tavion, both of whom were staring at him in surprise, "I just wanted to give you the option. I promise you, Peony and her little girlfriend aren't going to be the friendly types."

"Unless you're willing to bitch up to their level, you'd be better avoiding anyone from that family." Zoe agreed.

"I wouldn't mind having some company." Tavion said warily, "Don't really mind if it's a girl or an older kid, or whatever. Hate being on my own."

"There'll be four beds going spare in the first year boys' dorm, you can choose what you want for yourselves." Jack offered.

"Or one or both of us could sit in on the girls." Tracey offered. Millicent nodded in agreement. "Make sure mini-Parkinson doesn't start anything too serious."

Livia scowled for a second, "I'll see how I do on my own with them, as the school rules intend." She looked up at the group of older students, smiling nervously, "But if I don't like it I'll take you up on one of your offers."

"I'll stay with Tavion in the meantime." Jack offered, "Shut up, Theo." he warned as Nott opened his mouth to speak. Theo just shrugged and sat back looking somehow both amused and disgusted with his own joke.

"Deal." Tavion said, nodding.

x x x

Ianto caught up with Jack in the corridor which led down to both the dungeons and the kitchens, after the feast. "You know those new teachers are Death Eaters." he said flatly.

Jack turned to face him, smirking, "Yeah, their nieces are in Slytherin house. They don't do the twin-speak as often as the Weasleys, but when they do it's like that scene from The Shining."

Ianto laughed at this, but then he noticed a first year Slytherin lurking nearby, and frowned at the boy.

"Oh, this is Tavion." Jack said, "Tavion, this is Ianto Jones. Tell me, what's your opinion on the new management here?"

Tavion shrugged defensively, and looked away.

"I'll take that as 'hate', then?" Jack asked. The boy looked, if possible, even more defensive. "If that's the case, Ianto is the best Prefect for you to ask if you need anything. All the Slytherin Prefects are on the Death Eaters' payroll. I'm still sure that's why I didn't get a badge this year."

"Owen told you, didn't he?" Ianto asked with a scowl.

"Is that a bad thing?" Jack asked frowning, "You know, I think I kind of like that you're in a position of authority over me."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Why is there a first year lurking around you?"

"He's Slytherin's _only _ first year boy." Jack said flatly, "I didn't think it was a good idea for him to be left all alone."

"Jack..." Ianto said in a warning tone.

"Why does everyone think that?" Jack snapped defensively.

"Because you did it to me when we were first years, maybe?"

"You're different."

"And Malfoy?"

"He started it. Sort of."

"What're you two talking about?" Tavion asked warily.

"Nothing you need to know about yet." Ianto informed him bluntly. Jack rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything to that, though it was clear he wanted to.

"Look, we'd better get down to the dungeons before curfew." Jack said quickly.

"I'm going with you." Ianto said bluntly.

"All your things are in Hufflepuff."

"That's what House Elves are for." Ianto dismissed, "I'm a Prefect. As long as I don't cross Pansy or the Carrows, I can pretty much do as I like."

"Tell me you guys are any good at Transfiguration and I'll happy." Tavion said flatly.

"He wants to get us to do his homework for him?" Ianto asked, "I think I like him."

x x x

The first year boys dorm was exactly like the others that Jack had seen, which were currently occupied by the fifth and seventh years. Literally identical in their layout, to the point where if it hadn't been for personal possessions you simply would not be able to tell the difference. Although, the Slytherin rooms were a bit spacier than those in Gryffindor tower... what with it being a tower and therefore limited on space.

Jack idly considered trying to get a legitimate excuse to visit every bedroom in Hogwarts, but decided against it once he realised that plan would include teachers' rooms as well.

He had been only mildly surprised to find his own school trunk at the foot of the first bed on the left, exactly the same position as his bed in the fifth year dorm had been. Ianto's trunk was in the next bed, and the middle of the other three beds was designated for Tavion.

"Alright, I think we need to make friends with the House Elves." Jack announced, as he proceeded to unpack some of the less hazardous things from his trunk. He had an ulterior motive for rooming with the first year, although the plan had been conjured on a spur of the moment, and the altruistic reasons he had stated were honest enough.

First years didn't know how to get past the locking spells he had used. Fifth years did, and one of the last things Jack wanted was for Mark Avery to get into the specialised Muggle explosive's that one of Archie's friends had sent him over the summer.

Those were for emergencies only.

"How do you think I faked Draco's death?" Ianto asked flatly.

Jack looked up at him, surprised. "House Elves did that?"

Ianto shrugged vaguely, "Apparently one of them tried to use the exact same technique, the year before we started, to seriously maim Harry Potter. I assured the elf in question it was safe."

Jack considered this, "Okay, House Elves now officially outrank Weevils on my list of dangerous species."

"If it's any consolation..." Ianto offered, "The maiming of Harry Potter was done with noble intentions."

However, at that moment the door flew open and Livia ran in, "Okay, I want to stay as far away from that- that _fiend _ as I can!"

"Fiend?" Tavion asked.

"Peony Parkinson." Livia hissed, "She's horrible!"

A loud snapping sound, and Livia's trunk suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed by the door.

"You want me to go get one of the older girls?" Jack asked.

Livia blinked innocently, "No, I'm okay now. I just need to learn a good acne spell."

With that, she hopped onto her new bed and rooted out the '_Standard Book of Spells Grade One_'.

"It'll not be in that one." Ianto said, "Here, try this." he handed her another book, which Jack only just saw the cover off as Livia opened it. '_Jinxes for the Jinxed_'. "The first three chapters are all first year level. Don't think it does acne, but I'm sure you'll find something suitable. Just make sure nobody can pin it on you, if you curse her. Her sister _is _ Head Girl."

"Ianto Jones, and you thought I would be the bad influence!" Jack chided, laughing.

x x x


	102. Punishment

x x x

**Chapter 102: Punishment**

x x x

Ianto wasn't actually that surprised that Jack had behaved himself perfectly well all night. Not even any idle innuendo aimed at Ianto while he thought the children weren't listening. In spite of popular opinion, especially among Torchwood staff, Ianto knew Jack did have a basic sense of common decency.

Of course, the second they were actually alone, the next morning, in the corridor just outside the Slytherin dungeons, Jack all but pounced on him, pushing him up against the wall in an alcove mostly out of sight.

Yes, it was a bit of a surprise, but Ianto didn't mind in the slightest, happily reciprocating when Jack kissed him so eagerly. It had been so long since they had been _alone _ together, and a few lewd remarks were as far as it went when Jack thought they were being watched. Especially by the rest of their team... all summer.

Technically, though, this didn't really count as 'alone' in Ianto's mind. The corridor was a public place, and Ianto had read the school rules. Absolutely any form of romantic or sexual behaviour was strictly forbidden. Not just in public, or even within castle grounds. Any student of Hogwarts found behaving in any way short of perfectly puritanical would be assigned detention at the earliest convenience. He wouldn't be entirely surprised if Pansy had a hand in that rule, either.

As Jack's lips moved down to kiss and bite at Ianto's neck, he managed- in spite of all desires to the contrary- to push Jack away a little, "If we get caught..."

Jack hesitated, "I guess you're right. We'll have to go somewhere more private."

"We probably have classes in half an hour, and we won't know unless we make it to breakfast in time." Ianto pointed out.

Jack rolled his eyes, "That's no fun. Come on, let's go up to the seventh floor. We'll still make it to breakfast in time." he tugged at his own collar, revealing a golden chain there that Ianto realised was a Time Turner.

"You are aware that you're evil, right?" Ianto asked, grinning.

"They can't accuse us of breaking the rules if we're sitting in the Great Hall obeying them at the same time." Jack pointed out slyly.

Ianto laughed, "Can't really argue with that."

And then Jack was kissing him again, and he really couldn't find the will to remind him they should move to a more private location. It just felt entirely too good to resist.

But with a sound like a whip crack, Jack was magically dragged away from him, stumbling back into the opposite wall. "I expected a Prefect to know better." Pansy Parkinson snapped at him.

Ianto tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for the compromising situation she had found them in, but all he managed to do was blush.

It was Jack who answered her, "I really don't think I gave him time to think about school rules, Pansy, honey. Entirely my fault."

Pansy sneered at Jack with complete revulsion, "Does anyone know how to say 'no' to you, Harkness?"

"I tend not to go for the ones who would." Jack said with a dismissive shrug.

Pansy rolled her eyes, and pointed her wand sharply at Jack, not so much threatening as emphasising her point. "Detention. Both of you." She then made a shooing motion, "Now go away, Harkness. I need to speak to my fellow Prefect. Alone."

Ianto scowled, but then shrugged to Jack, who reluctantly retreated. Ianto doubted he went one single step beyond the corner he disappeared around.

"What are you doing with him, Jones?" she asked, exasperated, "I thought he betrayed you quite spectacularly, last year."

"If you're talking about Draco-" Oh, she clearly was. The anger that had been simmering below the false veneer of calm flared up behind her eyes at the mere mention of his name. "-then you clearly know nothing about either Hufflepuff house or Jack Harkness."

Pansy seethed, "That arrogant little man-whore stole my boyfriend, and you think he still wants to date you? He only wants to use you."

"Yes, I'm sure your interest in Draco was entirely benevolent and had nothing whatsoever to do with his money." Ianto sneered back at her.

Pansy snorted, almost laughing, in a cold way that held no real humour, "Takes one to know one." she said coldly, "Yes, I wanted Draco's money. And that Harkness' motivation is infinitely shallower than mine was."

"Are you... actually trying to give me advice for my own good?" Ianto asked, suddenly wondering if this really could be more than just spite at Jack for what happened with Draco.

"Well yes, of course." Pansy said, as if it was completely silly of him to think otherwise, "You're a bright boy, good bloodline, top marks in your classes. Would hate to see you waste it on that tramp."

Ianto fought back a laugh, but the smirk did make it onto his face in spite of himself, "Sorry, Pansy. You really don't know him."

He turned to leave, but she called after him, "That's what they all say!"

He didn't miss a step as he kept walking away from her... but it did sound like she was speaking from experience, rather than merely throwing insults.

Sure enough, as Ianto rounded the corner, Jack was waiting for him, and immediately gave him a 'are you alright?' look.

Ianto waved for him to follow, and led the way up towards the Great Hall. Jack did a very good job of waited until he thought they had gone far enough not to be overheard, before saying, "I wonder who she knew who had a selfish and abusive lover. She can't have been talking about herself, she _was _ the selfish one with Draco."

"Does it really matter?" Ianto asked, "She has it in for you either way. You know why, of course."

"Of course." Jack hesitated, "You're not still mad at me about that, are you?"

"'Still'? You make it sound like I was ever angry at you to begin with." Though neither one had actually stopped walking, Ianto turned to look at him, smirking faintly, "Upset... at the time, yeah. Angry? Not really."

Jack sighed, putting an arm around Ianto's shoulders, as they turned another corner, "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I just have a hard time understanding jealousy the way you see it."

"I know."

"In my time, jealousy means someone else has something you want, and you can't have it. Especially when it comes to sex, there are very few people in my century who mind sharing, as long as they do get their share. That's why John hates you, by the way... not because you have me at all, but because you do and he doesn't."

"Do you really think he hates me?" Ianto asked, ironically. Given his meetings with the other Time Agent since he had been de-aged, Ianto rather thought that there was more to it than just jealousy. Whatever definition you used for the word.

Jack shrugged, "Can never really tell with him."

The conversation stopped quite abruptly as they passed through the entrance hall, along with a group of Gryffindor students who were muttering somewhat rebelliously amongst themselves. Once inside the Great Hall, Jack made a beeline for where Owen was sitting, between Ginny and Neville, and firmly planted himself opposite their team-mate. Ianto sat next to Jack, not deigning to make any apologies for sitting at the wrong house table.

"Did you know we're meant to be learning _Dark Arts_, this year?" Ginny asked with deepest indignance and disgust.

"I think it's brilliant." Owen grinned, "I always figure fire with fire's usually the best way to fight."

"And he's a Gryffindor... we're doomed." Seamus Finnegan joked darkly.

It was at this point that Professor Slughorn ambled up to the group, "Do try to be on time in the future, boys." he said, handed Jack and Ianto their timetables, "There we go." And off he wandered. It could have been Ianto's imagination, but he did look a great deal less enthusiastic than usual. In fact, he seemed downright depressed. The whole Dark Lord taking over the wizarding world thing probably had something to do with it.

"Care of Magical Creatures first thing." Jack said, reading from his own.

"And don't I regret that!" Owen whined, "It's all so... outdoorsy!"

"Ancient Runes isn't until tomorrow afternoon." Ianto said, somewhat surprised as he read it, "I have a free class this morning."

"Oh no you don't." Pansy Parkinson said smugly from behind them. Ianto noticed Jack's hand twitch, as if he almost went for his wand at her words. Ianto only just resisted the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation at her persistence, as he turned to look up at her. "I just spoke to Professor Carrow." she positively chirped, "You've got detention with him this morning."

"Detention in the morning?" Owen asked as if someone had just asked him to make out with a Weevil while sober. And it wasn't even his detention, it seemed to be the principle of mornings in general that offended Owen. "Who even does that?"

"Wait a minute, she just said 'him'?" Neville asked, scowling, "But Amycus Carrow's taking our Dark Arts class first thing."

Pansy just shrugged, grinning entirely too cheerfully as she turned and flounced away.

"There are many ways in which this is not good." Owen declared.

Ianto glowered at him, "Yes, and you still speaking is one of them."

x x x

None of the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws (well, about half the Ravenclaws, really, the other half seemed to find it fascinating on a purely academic level) were happy with the news that they would be forced to study the Dark Arts this year.

They had also been surprised that _all _ their classes had been condensed into larger groups, leaving everyone- even the first years- with free 'study' periods at least twice a week. All four houses now studied together, instead of being split into two groups for most lessons. So instead of just sharing with the Hufflepuffs as they had for _Defence _ Against the Dark Arts, now the Dark Arts class was shared by all four houses together.

"Maybe the 'teachers' need the free time to go murdering and pillaging." Seamus had sneered upon hearing this.

Neville wouldn't be all that surprised. The Carrows were known Death Eaters, had been in Azkaban right alongside the Lestranges.

Because Ianto was supposed to have detention with Amycus Carrow, who was also supposed to be taking their class, he had walked up here with the Gryffindor seventh years. Still a good foot shorter than Neville, the younger boy had seemed totally out of place. And also completely terrified, even if he hid it well.

"I don't understand how you can have detention with a class." Lavender said, scowling in confusion, "I mean, unless they're gonna have you be teacher's assistant or something?"

"It's a Dark Arts class." Ianto said quietly, "And Pansy wanted to hurt me when she assigned this detention. I really don't want to guess where it's going."

"Speak of the devil." Seamus muttered, as Pansy led the Slytherin students up the corridor towards the classroom.

Right behind the Slytherins, however, was Amycus Carrow, so Pansy had no time to gloat as the students were shooed into the classroom. Amycus paid very little heed to the other students, but pointedly escorted Ianto right to the front of the room, with a hand on his shoulder. If the expression on Ianto's face was anything to go by, he did not approve of even that limited physical contact.

"I was so happy to hear we'd got a detention on the first day." Amycus announced as he walked up between the desks, "Can't be learning your basic black magic without a good victim, now can we?" He turned to face the rest of the class, leaving a very disgruntled looking Ianto standing next to the teacher's desk. "_Seventh years! _ You get to start with the good stuff!"

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Seamus whispered quite loudly. Lavender and Pavarti suppressed nervous squeaks that may have been giggles under better circumstances. Neville didn't get what Seamus had just quoted, but it was obviously meant as an in-joke- most likely a Muggle joke- of some kind, and he would ask later. When it was safe to do so.

"Today you're all going to learn how to cast the Cruciatus curse." Amycus crowed gleefully.

Panic flashed across Ianto's face, but unlike Neville who was positively horrified at the very idea, Ianto covered it up _extremely _ well, closing his eyes and biting his lip, clenching and unclenching his fists. He looked like he wanted little more than to curse Amycus... and probably Pansy, as well.

Neville looked around to see that only a small group of the Slytherins- just Pansy and Crabbe, Goyle- looked like they thought this was a good idea. Everyone else was horrified, shocked, and/or frightened at it. When he looked back to the front, he was surprised to see Ianto hadn't moved. Hadn't said a word of protest, either. Some of the Hufflepuffs were whispering about it, but nobody dared speak aloud.

"Now, the correct way to do it, and you'd better learn 'cause if you fail you get... detention." Amycus leered at that word. Like he was loving this for an opportunity to torture children. "Touch the tip of the wand to the victim-" as he said this, he pressed a noticeably shorter than average, pale- probably pine- wood wand to Ianto's neck, "- it'll work through clothes, but it's much better on exposed skin."

Ianto did glance at the weapon pressed to his throat now, but only briefly, and it looked like he really wanted to say something insulting, but only just refrained from it. Neville was absolutely dumbstruck by both what was happening before his eyes _in Hogwarts_, but more by this younger Hufflepuff boy's unwavering bravery in the face of it.

"Draw up all your anger and hate, really feel the power of it."

Was it his imagination, or did Neville just see Ianto's lip twitch with what looked like amusement? At almost exactly the same time, Seamus snorted quietly behind him.

"And the incantation-" Amycus continued, oblivious to whatever sick joke the other two boys had come up with, and entirely too happy about this whole thing,"-is _CRUCIO!_"

Neville had seen this curse cast before. Knew the theory and had witnessed the aftermath of what it did to people. Most would break down completely. Even the best can't take it for very long. Ianto tried to resist it, but couldn't even begin to hold back the cry of pain. His knees buckled and he fell forward to his hands and knees. The curse lasted three seconds, before Amycus released it, leaving him gasping for breath.

Neville only realised after it was over that he had been holding his breath, gripping the edge of his desk with white knuckled intensity.

Ianto kept his head down, his breathing evening out quite quickly. When he sat back onto his heels, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. His expression was completely blank.

"Now, everyone line up. You're all going to have a go." Amycus grinned, "Don't expect you all to get it good your first time, but you're all going to at least try."

Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle eagerly queued up first. Everyone else seemed far more unsure of the idea, all exchanging wary looks. When Neville glanced back at Ianto he was surprised to see him staring right at him. There was something in that gaze. Something almost... pleading? Neville frowned, not sure why he of all people was being singled out. Very slowly, he moved to join the line right after the three Slytherins. The briefest flicker of an almost-smile tugged the corner of Ianto's lips told him this was what he wanted. Neville suddenly felt inexplicably more nervous about the whole thing.

Pansy was up first, and she managed to make her victim scream for ten seconds on her first try. Amycus had to remind her to stop. The way both of them glanced at Neville when he told her not to hold it too long made him supremely uncomfortable.

Crabbe and Goyle were just as bad.

Then it was Neville's turn. The three Slytherins had wandered off, and Pansy was chattering happily at the boys about how much she liked their new class. Neville met Ianto's gaze warily, once more, and Ianto mouthed words Neville just about managed to make out.

'_Fake it._'

Neville blinked in surprise... though really, he should have thought of it himself. "Hurry it up, Longbottom." Amycus prodded, "Unless you want to get detention, as well, hmm?"

Neville took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable. He hoped Ianto was a good actor, as he touched his wand to the younger boy's shoulder, "Crucio."

He really didn't mean it, but the screams were so convincing. It took all his will and determination to hold his aim steady and make it look like he was still holding the terrible curse. Even then, he could only manage it for two seconds before cringing at the sound and backing off.

Ianto put on a good show of taking the same amount of time to recover as he had for the previous assaults, but when he looked up at Neville he was almost smiling, in that way where you could only tell by the hint of a mischievous glitter in his eyes. Just like the Weasley twins when they're not-caught-out in a lie.

Neville backed up a step, then turned and whispered to Seamus, "He said fake it."

Seamus nodded, patting Neville's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie that made it look like this exchange had been more to calm Neville's nerves than to convey such a vital message.

As Seamus stepped forward, stony faced and no longer finding anything remotely amusing, Neville went on to pass on the message to the girls, and then the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs... trying very hard to tune out the screams. They sounded so very real.

Tracey Davis caught his arm as he passed her, hissing quietly, with a wary glance at Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, "I'm surprised you could do it."

Neville shrugged her hand away, all set to sneer a generic insult to her house, when he remembered she had joined the D.A. at Jack's request last year. So instead he told her, "He's a good actor."

Tracey perked up at this, "I always reckoned so... him and Harkness. Always wondered why Jones wasn't in our house."

Neville just shrugged reluctantly. Another scream, somehow louder and more urgent than the others, rent the air, and they both turned to look. Nobody had told Blaise Zabini to hold back... and Neville didn't really trust him enough to, either.

Tracey bit her lip and backed off from Neville, turning to whisper to Millicent Bullstrode and Daphne Greengrass... all three of them were shooting vicious looks Pansy's way as they whispered.

Neville returned to his seat near the back of the class, and tried not to listen to the screaming. Eventually, when it was all over, the class was dismissed. He was a bit surprised that Ianto didn't offer him any thanks or even pause to speak to him, instead racing out of the room as soon as he was released, and chasing after Pansy Parkinson of all people.

x x x

"Pansy, wait." Ianto called after her. When she did stop and he had the chance to catch his breath it took a lot more effort than usual to recover. The strain the Cruciatus curse had placed on his body made it feel like he had run a mile, rather than just the length of a single corridor.

The smug yet disdainful sneer she wore as she looked him over was positively infuriating. "Yes, Jones? Can I help you?" she asked in a saccharine voice.

"This- this is why all detentions are being referred to the Carrows now, isn't it?" he asked.

"Exactly." she grinned.

"Is there any way I could persuade you to take back Jack's detention?" He took on a pleading tone as he said it, but he knew he couldn't beg very effectively. Even when he meant it, it never sounded real.

Pansy laughed, "And why on Earth would I do that?"

Ianto hesitated. She had a point. She _hated _ Jack because of what happened with Draco. He couldn't think of any way to talk her out of an opportunity to hurt him. "Look, there's got to be something you want? I'll do whatever it takes to protect him from that curse."

"Oh really?" Pansy asked, suddenly sounding interested, "Anything?"

Oh, that was a very dangerous word to say to a Slytherin, Ianto knew that, but he nodded regardless, "Anything."

x x x


	103. One Does Not Simply Walk Into

x x x

**Chapter 103: One Does Not Simply Walk Into- Oh, Wait...**

x x x

Jack had been headed up to meet Ianto after his detention when he heard voices ahead. Stopping and listening, he realised it was Ianto and Pansy... so naturally, he moved quietly closer to eavesdrop.

But he only caught the last few words, "Pleasure doing business with you, Ianto." Pansy was almost purring in a way that sounded like she was trying and failing to sound alluring.

Ianto half-laughed, with no real emotion behind it, "Right." he muttered sarcastically. Footsteps retreated away from where Jack was hiding, first Ianto, then Pansy in a different direction. Jack stepped out into the corridor, after they had both gone, and frowned thoughtfully. He was quite sure Ianto didn't like Pansy this morning, and serving a detention she assigned him wasn't usually the kind of thing that would endear you to a person. Not in Hogwarts at least.

He could always just ask Ianto about it, but where was the fun in that?

So instead he found an empty classroom right next to where this conversation had taken place, and used the Time Turner. He appeared one hour earlier in that same classroom, and promptly locked the door and settled in to wait for what would probably be about fifty eight minutes knowing his luck.

He was only a little bit annoyed at the fact this thing had to go by the hour, when he had only needed to go back twenty minutes at most, but he knew it could be worse. The old Rift Manipulators the Agency used to use until about a year before he had been recruited would be lucky if you could find a viable time window in the right year. At least his Vortex Manipulator only ever messed up due to human error... and low battery.

Oh yes, it could survive being at the bottom of the Hudson river for a week, and a nuclear explosion up close... not to mention at being shot at point blank range by both a World War One musket and a fifty-first century laser pistol (the former due to poor aim, the latter had been deliberate). But let the battery run down below ten percent and it wouldn't even attempt the shortest time jump.

And you just can't get- or even attempt to recreate- the right kind of batteries on Earth for another two thousand years.

But if waiting for the Doctor for over a century had taught him anything, it had been patience. Eventually. After he realised impatience led to incarceration by Torchwood for acting out too obviously.

So he had little trouble waiting. Plenty of boredom, but that ended quite abruptly as he heard voices outside the room.

"Pansy, wait!" Ianto called, sounding out of breath and his voice a bit hoarse.

"Yes, Jones? Can I help you?" Pansy simpered maliciously.

"This- this is why all detentions are being referred to the Carrows now, isn't it?" Ianto really sounded quite exhausted, and more than a little bit upset. Whatever his detention was, it couldn't have been good.

"Exactly." Pansy said chirpily. Enjoying his discomfort entirely too much by the sound of it.

"Is there any way I could persuade you to take back Jack's detention?" Ianto asked.

"And why on Earth would I do that?" Pansy sounded confused.

"Look, there's got to be something you want?" Ianto sounded almost desperate, now. He must know Jack could handle anything the Death Eaters can throw at him... why was he bargaining on Jack's behalf? "I'll do whatever it takes to protect him from that curse."

"Oh really?" Pansy asked with cruel glee in her voice, "Anything?"

"Anything." No hesitation, no pause.

Jack had been sitting with his back to the door, as he listened, but now he turned to peer through the keyhole. It wasn't a clear view, but he could just see Ianto's face and upper body, facing to Jack's right, with an air of determination and defiance.

Pansy snorted derisively, "I don't see why you care about him."

"And I doubt you ever will." Ianto said flatly, arms folded somewhat defensively.

"Well, I'm sure I could think of something." Pansy said, her tone suddenly turning sickeningly sweet, almost teasing. She stepped into Jack's field of vision, right in front of Ianto, so he could now see both of them. She placed a hand on Ianto's chest and smirked at him, in a way oh so familiar to Jack for how it spoke of both hatred and attraction at the same time.

"What is it?" Ianto asked steadily. He appeared entirely unruffled by her almost predatory advance.

Pansy seemed disappointed as she stepped back, as if she had been hoping to make him uncomfortable, rather than really wanting any of the things her actions had suggested. "You've already figured me out well enough. I want power, wealth, political influence. Best place to get at least two of those three are from the Death Eaters, these days."

"And where do I fit in?" Ianto asked her. Jack knew he was observant enough to have noticed her failed attempt to unsettle him, but he didn't show the least hint of acknowledging it.

"You will join them. I'll take credit." Pansy said grinning, "Oh, just think what a spy in the enemy camp does for a war! I could be a hero!"

"Enemy camp?" Ianto scoffed, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Jack Harkness." Pansy said flatly. "He was known to associate with Potter. You'll get him to tell you where Potter's hiding."

"You assume he knows?" Ianto laughed, but it was obviously forced, "And even if he did, do you really think he'd tell me?"

"If he won't, he'll get detention." Pansy threatened darkly, once again moving so she was right in front of him, nose to nose. Half glaring, half smirking. "If you really do care, you'll do it for his own good."

Ianto hesitated, "Is that all you want? Me to spy for you?"

"You to spy for the Dark Lord." Pansy corrected, still smirking, "I get the glory of recruiting you, but you _do _ have to get the Dark Mark."

Ianto stared at her like she was the world's biggest moron, "You're kidding, right?"

Pansy grinned broadly, "Nope."

"Because it's really easy to infiltrate and deceive your lover when you're wearing a great big brand of allegiance to his enemy on your arm." Ianto sneered with deepest sarcasm.

Pansy glowered, "You'll do what I say, or your little whore of a boyfriend will get _permanent _ detention. He won't have a free class for the rest of his school career."

"Whores usually get paid, Pansy. Something you would know all about." Ianto sneered, "But I guess I have no choice. I'll do it."

Pansy looked ready to slap him, positively seething, but then instead she kissed him.

Jack saw the expression on both their faces, first hers then Ianto's, turning to revulsion, but Pansy was clearly angry enough that she was willing to endure it just to try to hurt him. When she let go, he made a point of wiping his mouth with disgust, "You are aware that I'm only fifteen, yes?"

"You are aware that I now as good as own you... yes?"

Ianto sneered, in obvious disgust, "The more you tighten your grip, the more people will slip through your fingers." Jack had to bite his lip not to laugh at the paraphrase from Star Wars that Ianto randomly threw at the unofficially crowned Slytherin Princess. "Give me room to breathe, and you'll get what you want."

Reluctantly, Pansy sighed, "Fine, we'll see how far reason gets you. I'll get your nasty little slut out of this detention, and I'll come find you when I make the arrangements for your initiation."

Ianto nodded, obviously displeased but trying not to show it too clearly.

"Why, exactly?" Pansy asked, "I don't care if you don't think I'd understand... why are you defending that... that harlot?"

Ianto snorted weakly at her choice of insult. Jack vaguely thought the pot was calling the kettle black after the way she had tried to lure in Draco. "I- he's..." Ianto hesitated, looking away from her.

"If you don't tell me, deal's off."

"Bitch." Ianto hissed under his breath. Pansy batted her eyes in all faux innocence. He sighed, "I think I'm in love with him."

Jack turned away from the keyhole, leaning his back against the door and sliding silently down to the floor. Of all the ways to hear those words from Ianto... he kind of wished he hadn't come back to spy on them, now.

"After what he did-" Pansy began incredulously.

"I don't care about that." Ianto interrupted, "He's... just like that. Flirting and-" He shook his head, "I don't care what he does with anyone else as long as he doesn't get himself hurt, and... as long as he comes back to me."

Jack felt tears beginning to form in his eyes. He had never met anyone in this century who understood him so well. He hated that he had to learn it this way. And that Ianto was trying to bargain for Jack's wellbeing... willing to join the Death Eaters, just to keep him out of detention.

"That's ridiculous!" Pansy declared loudly, "When I come for you, you better be ready." she added warningly.

"Of course." Ianto said flatly.

And suddenly she was all cheer again, positively purring, "Pleasure doing business with you, Ianto." Jack remembered those words, and anticipated Ianto's reply a moment before he heard it.

"Right."

He stood somewhat shakily as he heard their footsteps to retreat, and found a bookcase to stand behind, just in time to avoid being seen by his past-self. Another few seconds, the time turner was activated, and he was alone.

He really needed to talk to Ianto.

x x x

"I hate this." Tosh muttered darkly, staring out the window of the apartment.

"Tell me about it." Gwen sulked.

It was supposed to be the first day of Hogwarts, something everyone their apparent age looked forward to with eager anticipation for a large chunk of the summer. Unlike the things you learned in Muggle schools, magic was actually FUN, and you weren't meant to be allowed to do it outside of Hogwarts until you were seventeen.

On the bright side, they either were technically way past seventeen and therefore not being tracked by this enchanted law, or officially didn't exist on the magical world's records and for that reason weren't tracked by said law.

That didn't stop them missing the magical school any, though.

Gwen missed the excitement and the feel of being a part of something greater than herself that only came from those fantastic things the real world couldn't touch like the Hub or Hogwarts, neither of which she could get to now. Tosh, meanwhile, was obviously upset with the actual lack of classes, try as she might to work from textbooks she did complain it just wasn't the same.

And it was only the first day!

As if that wasn't bad enough, there was supposed to be a war on, and they were being kept safely out on the sidelines, which drove Gwen absolutely crazy. Their commlinks weren't long-range enough to communicate with Hogwarts or London, so they couldn't talk to Jack, Ianto, Owen, OR Harry, Ron or Hermione.

Jack's past-self did have a wrist strap that was capable of communcation, but he didn't seem willing to use it.

"You know..." Jack's past-self said thoughtfully, "Usually I quite enjoy it when I'm left out of the way by those currently in charge of Torchwood... but right now, I'm thinking there are some things we could do that might help."

"Like?" Gwen asked eagerly.

Jack turned to look at them both carefully, trying very hard to hide a smirk as he asked, "How much do you two know about Torchwood One?"

"London based, highly organised, original headquarters of the organisation." Tosh answered promptly, like it was a pop quiz and she just had to show off, "While Torchwood Two in Glasgow, Torchwood Three in Cardiff, Torchwood Four in Belfast, and Torchwood India are all autonomous, Torchwood One still had the authority and power to step in and take over if they ever felt like it. They never did until..." Tosh's eyes widened and she shut up quite promptly.

"Until?" Jack asked, "You know my memory's going to get wiped after you leave, you can tell me whatever you like."

"He's trying to trick us." Gwen said flatly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"But he's right." Tosh shrugged, "I was going to say until you took over Torchwood Three in three years' time."

Jack's eyes lit up with positively unholy glee, "Oh, I'm going to enjoy that."

"I'll bet." Tosh grinned right back, but her face fell as she remembered the original subject of their conversation, "So why are you asking about Torchwood One, exactly?"

"Because much as I hate my bosses, they have resources we could be using." Jack said, smirking in that way that made Gwen nervous because she just knew he was plotting something, "There's only so much I can get from Two or Three. Even with Archie on our side, they're both so small compared to Torchwood One, and nobody's heard from Four for the last three years."

"The last report out of Torchwood Four involved vampires, I think." Tosh said vaguely. Jack shrugged.

"I would never suggest this to anyone really the age you look, but that's why it's so brilliant. Nobody will expect a brand new intern or two of trying to steal or spy on them, and with my knowledge of their operating procedures you'd have an easy time of it."

Gwen looked at Tosh, trying to keep a straight face as she asked, "Is he suggesting we infiltrate a top secret government organisation who we'll be working for in the future anyway, so we can steal secrets and weapons to use against another top secret government run by evil cultists?"

"I think he is." Tosh smiled in a morbid kind of way, "Though from what I hear, Torchwood One's a bit of a cult anyway."

"No trouble, then." Gwen laughed.

"We could use the exercise." Tosh agreed, nodding.

"Alright!" Jack laughed, "Finally something to do that doesn't involve attempted suicide! Have I mentioned I hate my bosses?"

x x x

"This is a bad idea." Draco whispered bitterly.

"Find me a good idea for how to stop them, then?" Potter demanded, also in a hushed tone.

Draco did not respond.

"It's a worse idea to let them get away with it." Granger agreed softly.

"I still don't know why _we're _ doing this." Draco grumbled.

"Because your parents are cowards, and the Order's busy fighting on other fronts." Ron Weasley practically growled.

Draco glowered hatefully at him.

"Here they come." Granger hissed, backing up around the corner a bit.

"I really hate you three." Draco muttered, raising his wand. The approaching footsteps were clear and easy to track, and Draco cast a wordless stunning spell just as they reached the corner.

Potter, Weasley and Granger followed suit, a second later.

The four victims of their surprise attack were Ministry workers. A group who has been walking together, though they had not been chatting or even pretending to acknowledge each other. It was more of a safety in numbers concept than any semblance of friendship. "Runcorn, Hopkirk, Smith, and Cattermole." Draco said flatly, "I call dibs on Runcorn."

"Any particular reason?" Weasley sneered malevolently.

"He's a Death Eater. I know how to act like one of them, in case you haven't noticed."

"And that's the only reason." Weasley taunted.

"Can we _please _ forget Jack's joke about Polyjuice potion." Potter protested.

"Yes, let's." Granger said, plucking a hair from Mafalda Hopkirk's neatly tied bun, "Come on, now, boys. No time to waste."

"We have to get in and out in one hour." Potter agreed.

Ten minutes later, they were standing in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Draco led the way swiftly through the hall, putting on his best air of authority, acting like he belonged there. It was a lot harder to do when he didn't believe it.

"Magic is might?" Granger quoted, sneering in disgust. The way her footsteps had faded and then trotted quickly to catch up told him she had paused to read that somewhere.

"Catchy." Draco said cheerfully.

"It's disgusting." Weasley sneered.

"Oh, shut up, Cattermole." Draco snapped.

"You're enjoying this too much." Potter warned.

"Probably." Draco agreed with a shrug.

They reached the thankfully otherwise unoccupied elevator without drawing any attention- that they were aware of, at least- and Draco pressed the button for the lowest level.

"Department of Mysteries? Really?" Potter asked sceptically.

"Same floor. Didn't you have your trial there, as well? I'm sure Father mentioned it."

"I hate that place." Potter grumbled.

"I'll bet." Draco glanced at him, "But if they're holding a full criminal court, that's where it'll be. And that's what these people are to the Death Eaters' new laws, right? Criminals... for existing."

"Did I mention disgusting?" Weasley asked coldly.

"I hate agreeing with you, Weasley." Draco muttered darkly.

The elevator doors slid open, "I really hope you've thought this through, Smith." Draco said.

He found it disturbingly easy to identify the subject of Polyjuice potion with the name of the one they were impersonating. Potter had to do a double-take to realise Draco was even talking to him... wearing a face that belonged to the father of one of the former 'D.A.' members, and not even thinking about it. The difference was so solidly to the front of Draco's mind that if someone said 'Runcorn' right now, he'd jump at it as easily as his own name. In fact, he'd probably be just about able to pretend to _ignore _ his own name.

"Cattermole!" Weasley _did _ jump at that, turning to face the source of the angry shout. Cyril Yaxley, oh and he was pissed. Father of Adrian Yaxley, and only almost as spiteful. "I requested somebody from Magical Maintenance to sort out my office, Cattermole. It's still raining in there."

"Raining... in your office?" Weasley stammered nervously, "That's- that's not good, is it?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Cyril, if you don't mind, Cattermole is with me for the rest of the morning. Don't you have better people to bother? Or if you're that keen on him in particular... invest in an umbrella until I'm finished with him."

Yaxley stared at Draco, mouth opening and closing a couple of times, glowering intensely, then he turned on his heel and stormed off, muttering, "Bloody bureaucrats."

Draco sneered faintly, "I'd like to tell him where to shove the umbrella, and all, but I'm afraid while Runcorn outranks him in Ministry affairs, he _is _ in the Death Eaters' inner circle... and I don't hate Runcorn enough to earn him a death sentence. Almost, but not quite."

Wesley spluttered with laughter. Granger rolled her eyes, and Potter valiantly fought off the impending grin on his face, "Come on, we don't have much time." Potter said flatly.

Draco nodded, gesturing down the deserted corridor, "This way, then, gentlemen... Weasley."

Weasley flipped him off, but surprisingly Granger actually laughed lightly at the joke.

"You know what would be really useful right now?" Potter asked, as they walked.

"What?" Weasley asked. Granger turned her head to look at him, while Draco merely inclined his head slightly to indicate he was listening.

"A Time Turner." Potter declared, "We'd be out of here before we walked in."

"I like that way of thinking." Draco conceded, "But where do we get our hands on one of those?"

Potter grinned, and stopped walking. Then he nodded his head towards the door right next to him... which led to the Department of Mysteries.

x x x


	104. Too Easy

x x x

**Chapter 104: Too Easy**

x x x

Harry was extremely nervous entering the Department of Mysteries again. He was somewhat surprised when they entered the circular room to find that the first thing he noticed was gold paint on one of the doors. A smear, like someone had hastily wiped a paintbrush over the general area where a handle ought to be. "What's this?" Ron asked, pointing at it warily.

"It's paint." Hermione said, frowning thoughtfully, "I thought these doors were Imperviused?"

"From what I've heard- and it's rumour, so don't trust me on this-" Draco said carefully, "The Department of Mysteries is proofed against _magic_. I can't imagine them caring for Muggle vandals in a place like this, can you?"

"Well, I suppose." Hermione eyed him sideways, "You purebloods really underestimate us, you know that, right?"

"I'm learning." Draco conceded reluctantly.

Harry cautiously prodded the door with the paint on it, and it swung open silently. The room beyond was empty... and it was the Time Room. "Convenient." he murmured, glancing around cautiously to confirm that nobody was laying in wait for them.

"Little _too _ convenient, if you ask me." Ron grumbled.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Time Turner. Hurry up already!"

Harry took one more quick look around, then rushed out across the room and snatched a Time Turner from a shelf. There had been a large collection of them the last time they had been here, now there was only one left. Harry felt only mildly guilty at the fact that he was the one who had accidentally tipped over the lot of them, but mostly he was relieved that there was still one left to take now. Would have been kind of embarrassing to have suggested this idea, and then realise he had destroyed _all _ of them last year.

He hurried back to the circular room, and they left, just like that. Back out into the hallway as if nothing had happened. The entire encounter felt so anticlimactic and uneventful for such an important bit of thievery.

"Alright." Hermione said, catching her breath, apparently also having anticipated some kind of fight or other danger, there, as well. "Prisoners... ah, this way?" she gave Draco a quizzical look, and he nodded.

"This way." he agreed, leading them down towards the area where Harry's trail had been held, before. For defending himself against Dementors.

"Hang on." Harry said, stopping in the middle of the deserted corridor, frowning in thought, "If they're being guarded by Dementors... shouldn't it be colder in here?"

Everyone gave him wary looks for this.

"The Ministry _are _ using Dementors, it was all over the papers." Hermione agreed, frowning.

"Dementors do make very effective guards... I can't see why they wouldn't use them for this." Draco agreed, with a bit of sneer, "No reason to be kind to them while they await execution."

"It's not that cold, though." Ron said, scowling.

"So why?" Harry asked.

Hermione bit her lip nervously, "Let's not waste our time, we've only got..." she glanced at her watch, "Eleven minutes of potion left. Just prepare for humans instead."

"Right." Draco agreed, nodding.

"How exactly are we going to get everyone out, anyway?"

"I prepared Portkeys." Hermione said, flashing her brightest academic-genius grin, "The papers said there's about fifty prisoners. I made fifty Portkeys, just to be safe."

"Girl's bloody brilliant." Ron exclaimed.

Hermione glanced at her watch, "Nine minutes."

"You've met Ianto Jones, right?" Draco asked her with evident amusement.

Hermione snorted at him, "Obviously. We've worked together on quite a few of the D.A. projects."

"Let's move it." Harry insisted.

Draco nodded, and led the way on to the room. He strutted right on in like he thought he belonged there, "Jugson, Travers." he greeted almost warmly, "Yaxley sent us to check out one of the prisoners. Seems there might be some truth to their claims on bloodlines after all. Wouldn't think it, looking at this sorry lot, would you?"

The two Death Eaters- for Harry recognised those surnames- chuckled maliciously, "'Course, Runcorn." one of them said, glancing past them at Ron, "Mary Cattermole, is it, then?"

Draco nodded, "That obvious?"

"She's right over there." the Death Eater indicated one of the groups of prisoners chained up.

"Reg!" a woman cried, holding her hands out to Ron desperately.

Hermione elbowed Ron sharply, and he managed to put two and two together and went over to the woman, "Hey, Mary, it's, uh... it's all gonna be alright."

Draco folded his arms like he was incredibly bored, as the Death Eater who had spoken eyed Harry and Hermione sceptically. "What're those two for, then?"

"Witnesses." Draco shrugged, "And Mafalda has the necessary paperwork. Somewhere."

"Big pockets." Hermione muttered, pulling out a sheaf of parchment and trotting over to where Ron and Mary were.

The two Death Eaters followed her with their beady eyes. Draco met Harry's eyes and nodded his head towards the Death Eaters. A second later Draco had pulled his wand and a flash of red light incapacitated the Death Eater who had spoken. Harry followed half a second later, stunning the other one.

"Well, that was almost too easy." Hermione said flatly, drawing her wand as well, "I'm sorry, Mrs Cattermole, this isn't your husband."

Ron pried the confused woman's hands away from his arms, and backed up a step. "Polyjuice potion." he mumbled, "Didn't know the bloke I impersonated would know one of you lot. Sorry."

"On the bright side, your husband's safe, and soon you all will be as well." Harry said gently, "This is a jailbreak."

x x x

Hermione was positively in her element. Ron, Harry and Draco had released the prisoners, who had been chained up so it just took a simple Alohomora to do it.

As they did so, the Polyjuice wore off, and murmurs about all four of their real identities ran around the room. Obviously Harry got most of the recognition, and Draco was infamous enough to be recognised as an outlaw now as well, but Hermione was a bit shocked to hear her own name, and Ron's, whispered in tones of awe and admiration.

They weren't just wanted criminals to the new establishment... they were being spoken of as if they were heroes. All four of them.

"Now these are two person, touch activated Portkeys." Hermione explained, setting out blank pieces of parchment on the table, "They'll take you to various locations along the southern coast of England. From there you can use Muggle transport, or Apparate, but I'd strongly advise you all leave the country as soon as possible. France has opened its borders to Muggle-born asylum-seekers and their families. Beaubatons is taking up the slack for Hogwarts' newfound exclusivity, so your children will still get a good education. Those of you who have families, get them out, and get across the channel as fast as you can."

Everyone nodded at all the right points in her speech.

"There's plenty for everyone, so line up in pairs and no shoving please." she added efficiently.

Soon enough, there was an orderly line of people who had paired up and were waiting to take their Portkeys. Hermione gestured to the table, "Two at a time, please."

And the first pair took the nearest piece of parchment and vanished. Hermione nodded encouragingly, and soon enough everyone was stepping up, touching their Portkey together, all orderly and calm enough considering. It didn't take long for all of them to have gone, and Hermione quickly sorted the remainder of the Portkeys and put them back into the inside pocket of her robes.

"Timing's fantastic." Ron grumbled, shutting the door sharply and casting a locking spell on it, "Someone's coming."

Draco waved his wand idly at the two Death Eaters on the floor, and they were both shoved up against the door... one on top of the other in an entirely humiliating pose.

"Was that necessary?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Barricade." Draco shrugged, feigning innocence.

"Jack Harkness is a bad influence." Harry said flatly.

"Can't argue with you there." Draco nodded, looking over at Hermione, "Shall we leave, now?"

Harry beckoned them all over to him.

"Won't we just appear in a roomful of prisoners?" Ron asked.

"No." Draco and Hermione said together. They looked at each other, and he shrugged conceding she should explain. "The prisoners were only due to be moved here from Azkaban this morning. If we go back to the middle of the night, this room should be deserted."

Harry threw the chain of the Time Turner around their necks. He looked a bit surprised it managed to fit all four of them, but Hermione knew from previous uses of Time Turners that their chains were magically extendable as needed. Could take up to ten people in one go, but that was very much _not _ recommended.

"It's eleven A.M. now." Harry said, frowning, "So turn ten times?"

"Sounds good." Hermione nodded. And Harry turned the hourglass over slowly, ten times. Time spun around them, racing backwards at an amazing rate. It took them all of ten seconds to go back ten hours.

Then the world began to coalesce around them. Hermione felt Ron and Draco both stumble, unused to travelling by Time Turner. Ron bumped into Harry, knocking him to the floor, just as Hermione caught her breath. It was always a shock travelling like that.

She heard a yelp of terror from Draco, and looked up.

And then she screamed.

x x x

Ianto didn't look especially upset when he returned to the first year Slytherin dorm room that evening, no more than four hours after he had made that illicit deal with Pansy Parkinson. Jack had found an excuse for the two first years to be out of the way. It involved a few of the more civilised second years and a study group, which he had made up at the last minute. Melanie had been entirely too cheerful at what she had referred to as 'new minions'. Jack would have to keep an eye on that one.

But for now, he had to deal with Ianto.

Ianto, who had calmly crossed the room and settled cross-legged on his own bed with his first homework of the year (Transfiguration, his best subject), and proceeded to write his essay as if nothing could possibly be wrong.

Jack set his own book aside- not school work, just personal research on creative curses- and crossed the room to sit on the edge of Ianto's bed. "I heard you talking to Pansy, after your detention."

Ianto's hand froze, ball-point pen (and those were contraband now) poised over parchment, eyes staring unseeing at the page as he tried to come up with a response to that.

"Oh, come on, I'd have noticed the Dark Mark, anyway." Jack tried to laugh, but it felt hollow to his ears, "What on Earth possessed you to agree to those ridiculous terms, anyway?"

Ianto swallowed hard, and set the pen down, keeping the parchment on his lap as he turned his head away from Jack, "I hate seeing you get hurt. I thought if there was a way to prevent it..."

Jack frowned, "Ianto... what happened in that detention?"

Ianto's answer was a low whisper, "The Cruciatus curse."

Jack blinked a couple of times, then quickly shifted right onto the bed, sitting behind Ianto and wrapping his arms around him. "I'm sorry, this was all my fault."

"She would have found a way to put you in detention soon enough." Ianto said, not pushing Jack away but not leaning back against him either, "And would you really have told me what happened if I didn't experience it first hand?"

Jack hesitated, "Probably not." There were other times he had been a victim of this curse, but not as far as Ianto knew.

Ianto leaned back against him, "This is a good thing. Not only does it get you out of that... torture. It also gets us a spy in the Death Eaters. Someone they _know _ isn't entirely willing, but is cooperating regardless. I just wish you hadn't known about it, so then I could honestly say I was trying, knowing full well you _can't _ let anything vital slip since what you do know is protected by the Fidelius Charm."

Jack frowned, "The Fidelius Charm dilutes upon the death of its Secret Keeper. I could tell anyone I damned well pleased where the Order of the Phoenix's hideout is, or where our flat is... but you couldn't pass it on."

"Same difference." Ianto said with a faint smile. He finally leaned back, resting his head on Jack's shoulder and letting the parchment fall off his lap.

Jack lightly kissed his jaw, but the silence between them grew tense and after a moment he couldn't hold back the question, "What if she had wanted something else?"

Ianto tilted his head slightly away from Jack, which simultaneously hid his face and offered his throat if Jack wished to kiss him more. "I hadn't planned that far ahead. I just wanted to protect you."

"You offered her anything." Jack pointed out.

"And I could still have refused if she had come out with something too ridiculous. I wasn't signing over my soul before reading the fine print, just making it clear that I would consider any deal she could offer."

Jack held him a little tighter, and did kiss his neck now, murmuring softly between kisses, "You know how dangerous she is, Ianto... and she could alter the deal at any time."

"Is it just me, or have the Gryffindors seen Star Wars, too?" Ianto asked flatly.

"Wouldn't know. You should interrogate Owen about that." Jack smirked, and bit Ianto's neck lightly. A soft gasp and Ianto turned towards him, leaning up to kiss his lips eagerly. There was a slight tremble, and some clear nervousness to the way he kissed, and Jack pulled back after a moment, "Something wrong?" he asked, "I mean, besides the obvious."

Ianto laughed weakly, and turned his head away again, "Making deals with monsters... I seem to make a habit of it."

Jack raised one eyebrow sceptically.

Ianto shook his head, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, tell me." Jack said, suddenly wary once more.

Ianto frowned, "You know already... I just don't think we ever talked about it."

Jack waited patiently for Ianto to compose himself, still holding him securely in his arms. Ianto fidgeted slightly, and tested Jack's grip before leaning against him once more, as if resigned.

"You know I used you to get Lisa into the Hub." the tone of his voice was steady but his body trembled slightly, "You're not even the first person I've done that to. I wouldn't have been above letting Pansy do a lot worse than recruit me to the Death Eaters. I did more to you to protect Lisa."

Oh, now that made sense... and was more than a little bit disturbing.

Jack had always known, from the moment they found Lisa in the Hub, that Ianto had been using him. He had actually been impressed by it, at the time... that an ordinary twenty-first century human could use sex as a weapon against a trained Time Agent. In retrospect, the number of times Ianto had successfully distracted him from ideas of going down to the Archives was downright frightening.

It had started out with coffee and idle flirting, but when Jack had flirted back and started to seriously proposition, Ianto hadn't backed down. Oh, he had played all the right cards to appear shy, sweet, innocent... that only made it easier to fall for. Their entire sexual relationship up until that point had been a lie. Meaningless fun for Jack, but downright malevolent subterfuge for Ianto. To protect the woman he had been in love with, Ianto had willingly fucked the man who most threatened her, and Jack hadn't caught on at all until Lisa revealed herself. He just hadn't expected it from the mild-mannered young man Ianto had appeared to be.

Of course, after that, Ianto had confessed his guilt over it all, how disgusted he had felt at betraying Lisa. Not because he had sex with Jack... but because he had _enjoyed _ it.

Now he was as good as admitting, not only had he done all that... Jack wasn't the first, and if Pansy has demanded it he wouldn't have been the last.

He decided, instead of questioning further, to simply hold Ianto close to him, whispering reassuringly, "You don't need to protect me, Ianto."

"It's not fair that you should always be the one to take all the risks." Ianto protested, "You always dive straight into danger, and use your- your _curse _ as an excuse. I hate it when you die." Jack frowned, holding Ianto a little tighter. He was the only person who was able to even say it, now. "But I hate it even more when I see you in pain."

The silence that fell between them was not at all comfortable, and Jack was entirely unwilling to retort to Ianto's protective streak even though he thought it unnecessary. It was only human to want to protect those you cared about. Instead he went back to asking, "You said you wished I hadn't found out?"

"Then they would believe me when I said I was trying to get information from you and you were unaware of what I was doing."

"And if I told you something that sounded real and important?"

"What's-his-name is a powerful telepath, I wouldn't be able to hide it, and I would know that so I wouldn't try."

Jack hesitated for a moment, "You would hate yourself if something like that led to him winning."

Ianto didn't answer for a few seconds, and when he did his voice was slightly unsteady, as if that suggestion had really upset him, "I wouldn't be able to lie, but I would be able to learn things if I play obedient. It could balance out. It _should _ balance out."

"I don't doubt your skills at infiltration. I've witnessed them first hand." Jack said with a faint smirk, "But now you know that I know..."

"That makes it a lot more difficult." Ianto admitted.

"So I Obliviate you?" Jack asked, "Just this conversation."

Ianto perked up at that thought, turning to face him, "You can do that? It's sixth year magic."

"Been practicing." Jack said, smiling somewhat sadly, "Figured one of these days I might need to make people forget, and wouldn't have any Retcon on me."

"You mean you don't have any Retcon on you?" Ianto asked sceptically.

"Well, I do... but you know the minimum dose is twelve hours."

"Right." Ianto said, turning away, "I think that's the best idea, then. Memory charm."

Jack hesitated. He had been half-joking, but Ianto was taking it perfectly seriously, "If you're sure...?"

"If I'm going to be playing triple-agent against a telepath, I can't afford to remember telling you about it. It's best this way, he won't know, but you'll know to watch what you tell me."

Jack sighed, drawing his wand from where he kept it hidden up his sleeve, "I hate doing this to you... but I think you're probably right."

Ianto nodded, shifting on the bed so he was no longer leaning against Jack at all, but sitting with his back to the pillows, facing him and waiting nervously.

"You know, I heard everything you said to her..." Jack said, deeply pained. A brief moment of confusion, then Ianto's eyes widened as he realised what Jack meant. "I love you, too." Ianto opened his mouth to speak, but Jack was faster, "Obliviate."

x x x


	105. La Resistance

x x x

**Chapter 105: La Resistance**

x x x

Neville was startled awake by a burning sensation in his hand.

He hadn't really meant to fall asleep clutching the D.A. communicator coin, but he just hadn't been able to stop thinking about the whole new situation at Hogwarts and how they could possibly start to fight it. He had been on the verge of summoning the others a couple of times that night, before dosing off out of sheer exhaustion with the thoughts still racing through his head.

Now, he saw the message written along the edge of the coin where the date and motto would show on a real galleon.

'_1900 03-09-1997_'

It was Hermione who had taught them all Muggle military time. Using the full twenty-four hours. This meant 7pm... tomorrow night. The location had never changed, nor had reason to. Sending a worded message instead of numbers was too risky and only for absolute emergencies.

He frowned at the coin thoughtfully. Someone else had a plan. That was good. Neville's attempts at plans so far had all led one way, and that was straight into detention.

He put the coin aside and went back to sleep. Far more contented for the knowledge that something was going to get done.

x x x

Potter was down, hit his head on the floor thanks to Weasley's inability to simultaneously travel in time and remain standing. Not that Draco had fared much better, but at least he hadn't injured anyone in the process. Might injure Weasley later.

But then he saw beyond their small group. The room was not deserted as they had expected and hoped.

It was not a squeak. He would kill anyone who said that was the sound he made upon recognising their situation. But at least Granger's scream drowned it out. That was probably the only bright side to this scenario.

Because they were surrounded by Dementors.

Granger and Weasley both shouted at the same time, "Expecto Patronum!"

Draco knew that was the incantation, had tried it in the past when he had heard the rumours flying around that this was another one of Potter's brilliant talents... but he couldn't manage to make it work, so he had never told anyone he even tried.

"Malfoy, help us!" Weasley snapped. He and Granger working together were barely able to conjure a weak shield around the four of them.

It was only the urgency and desperation of their current situation that cut through his pride enough to allow him to admit, "I can't."

It was Granger who explained, rushed but efficient nonetheless, "You have to think of a happy memory, focus on it, channel that emotion as you cast the spell."

Draco drew his wand shakily, and tried to think of something happy. "Expecto Patronum." Nothing. "Expecto Patronum!" Nothing continued to happen.

"Schadenfreude doesn't work." Granger sniped.

He scowled at her. Now was hardly the time to start an argument, especially if she was right that he had been trying to focus on happiness at the expense of others. Even if Weasley deserved it.

"It needs to be a memory of genuine contentment." she insisted.

"I don't have many of those." Draco muttered. But one did manage stand out in his mind. It wasn't entirely happy, but it was the best he had felt in as long as he could remember... and that was kind of pathetic when he thought about it. Focusing as hard as he could on the memory, the emotion... the feeling of safety and knowledge that someone genuinely cared about him. "Expecto Patronum."

A shimmering silver serpent rose from his wand, rearing up at the Dementors with wicked sharp fangs bared, ready to strike.

"Alright!" Ron cheered, dropping his weak shield as Draco's much stronger Patronus took its place. Weasley knelt next to Potter and whispered hurriedly, "Rennervate."

Potter sat bolt-upright, eyes wide with panic. He saw the Dementors and it looked like he acted purely on instinct as he drew his wand and conjured a silver stag Patronus easily ten feet tall, which put its head down and charged, goring several Dementors and dissolving them all into dust within seconds.

"I don't think we want to ask where you got that good a Patronus from that quickly." Granger said, staring at Draco.

"You're obviously a good teacher." he answered, folding his arms a bit defensively.

"If we don't want to ask... it's Harkness's fault, isn't it?" Ron asked, trying not to laugh.

"So you really are a virgin, then, Weasley." Draco sneered, shoving past him and stalking towards the door, "Let's just get out of here."

He just heard a whisper from Hermione, "I have read Patronuses do come more easily to people with more... experience."

"Maybe you two should practice together, then." Draco sniped over his shoulder, before shoving the door open and storming out.

He heard footsteps on his heels and felt a hand on his shoulder. He stopped and turned to glower at what turned out to be Potter, "We can't go back to Grimmauld Place yet." Potter told him, "It's too soon, we'll run into ourselves."

Draco nodded slowly, "I know a place. I can't tell you where, but I'm pretty sure I can take you there. The Secret is only its location, so that should work, right?"

"Er, I think so..." he looked to Granger, who was flushing terribly, but she nodded quickly at the academic question.

"Yes, it should work, but we won't be able to know where we are."

Potter nodded sharply, "Come on, then."

They got outside with surprising ease, after that. At this hour of the night if there were any guards they were clearly slacking off. Once out in the open air beyond the magical protections of the Ministy, Draco took Potter and Granger's arms- both of them grabbed Weasley- and he Apparated to Jack's flat.

"What the-?" Gwen yelped, jumping up from the floor where she had apparently been camped out in a sleeping bag. Toshiko was also sitting up a fair bit more sedately, from where she had been sleeping on the couch.

"Hi, nice to see you, too." Draco sniped, "Potter here had the bright idea of stealing a Time Turner, so now we need a place to stay until we steal it."

Gwen stared blankly.

"I must say I do like time travel." Toshiko declared, smiling brightly.

Gwen shook her head, still not entirely getting it by the look of things. Weasley seemed a bit confused as well.

Then a door flew open- the only one in this flat that Draco had never seen beyond- and the adult, whom Draco had met the last time he had been here, stood in the doorway doing a very effective job of looking intimidating, pointing an unfamiliar piece of metal at them.

"Jack, put the gun down!" Gwen protested, in an exasperated tone.

"People teleport into my home without identifying themselves... well, you've been in that position, haven't you?" the man sniped, lowering what he clearly considered to be a weapon. "And isn't there this whole thing about using potions to impersonate people?"

"My cousin wanted to join some Muggle militia called UNIT." Harry said, faintly amused.

The man smirked, nodding, "Fair enough." He turned on Draco, "Your turn."

"I'm still missing something apparently funny about how you're related to my friend." Draco said warily.

"He _is_ Jack." Harry said, turning to see the expression on Draco's face, which did not disappoint he was sure, as he tried to process this impossibility.

"How-?"

"Time travel." the man- Jack?- shrugged, "And some kind of de-aging spell. He's actually older than me."

Draco stared at him for a few seconds, then asked, "And how old are you?"

"Older than I look." Jack answered bluntly.

Weasley doubled over laughing. Draco kicked him, but it was too late... now everyone else was laughing.

Except for Jack. "Do I want to get the joke?" he asked.

Draco shook his head, "I think I need to do something to my brain with bleach." he muttered, slumping onto the couch by Toshiko's feet.

"There's a waiting list!" Weasley crowed with laughter.

Jack looked to Gwen, "What did I do?"

"You've got one guess." she replied flatly, trying very hard to hold back the smirk that had been on her face a moment ago.

By the look on his face, Jack was able to figure it out from that... and that did make it quite clear that he really did get around. At least _he _ had the common decency not to laugh or make fun of the situation. Weasley was going to suffer, as soon as Draco thought of a form of torture that couldn't be traced back to him.

"He's got to be at least fifty, if he says he's older than he looks!" Weasley insisted.

Jack just looked at him impassively, "I've heard worse guesses."

"He said he was older than Dumbledore." Potter just had to go and say that didn't he? Draco really hoped that was not true.

"Does my age really matter?" Jack asked blankly.

"At least Ron won't be going on about statutory rape anymore." Hermione muttered, causing Gwen to splutter with laughter.

"I do not appreciate being a laughing stock." Draco growled.

"Alright, enough. All of you." Jack snapped, and the laughter stopped just like that. "Why, exactly, are you four here?"

"Stole a Time Turner. Need a place to stay until we steal it." Draco repeated.

Toshiko frowned, "But I thought all the Time Turners got destroyed in the battle at the Department of Mysteries?"

"They did." Jack agreed, "I know because my future-self told me so when he gave me this." he held up a Time Turner himself. "You have no idea how useful this has been in my line of work."

"I think I can guess." Toshiko said with a faint smile.

"Harry, can I see your Time Turner?" Jack asked. Draco looked up curiously, as Harry shrugged and held out the object in the palm of his hand, the golden chain hanging loosely from between his fingers.

"You don't think...?" Hermione asked, suddenly awed.

Jack held his own Time Turner near it, and with a slight flick of his wrist the chain swung out and touched the chain of the one in Harry's hand. Sparks erupted between them, though no visible damage was done. "Yeah, it's the same one." Jack said with a nod.

"But that's-" Hermione started.

"Impossible?" Jack asked, smirking, "Yeah, I get that a lot."

x x x

Ginny and Neville were the only two D.A. members in Gryffindor to have checked their coins, but they did gather everyone else, and they all made it to the hidden room on the seventh floor corridor on time. Luna seemed to be the rallying point for the Ravenclaws, while Ernie Macmillan was the leader of the Hufflepuffs present.

Naturally, Jack Harkness was the centre of attention for the select few Slytherins decent enough to have been allowed to join the D.A.

"Alright, everyone!" Owen Harper called, taking centre stage. "We've got a bit of a situation. First off, we have a traitor in our ranks, which is why Jack here stole his coin before I summoned you all last night."

Neville looked around, confused as he tried to figure out who was missing... besides the Muggle-borns of course.

"He's probably also unconscious, but best not to think how Jack would have done that." Owen grumbled.

"He's not unconscious." Jack retorted, "He's tutoring first years... although I might have blackmailed him into it."

"Ianto Jones betrayed us?" Padma Patil asked, shocked.

"No way!" Ernie shouted.

"Yeah, bird-boy's gonna be a bona-fide Death Eater pretty soon, if our sources are accurate." Owen sniped, "Didn't surprise me in the slightest, but he shot me one time when I was trying to save the world, so-"

"He shot you to stop you from accidentally destroying the world." Jack pointed out dryly, as if this accusation was perfectly serious, "Which you nearly did, if you remember?"

"Pfft. Details." Owen waved dismissively, "But if you all recall, he knows where we meet. And somebody's been playing free and easy with the Fidelius charms enough to offer us a solution."

"This is why we don't usually let him do public speaking." Jack stage-whispered to the Slytherins.

"Yes, because when you do it and cause an orgy, nobody minds." Owen sniped.

"That's right." Jack agreed, entirely too cheerfully.

"We need an official leader of the D.A. to be able to have them submit the Secret to be kept." Owen explained, pretending that hadn't just happened, "And without Harry Freakin' Potter around, that's up for the voting."

"Neville should do it." Luna chirped up.

"What?" Neville asked, surprised.

"I think Ginny!" Pavarti argued.

"Jack's the best leader of the lot of us." Theodore Nott offered.

"Alright, anyone else?" Owen asked, eyeing the assembled students. Nobody had any better ideas. "Vote, then. Show of hands for Jack?"

All the Slytherins. That was predictable enough. Nobody else, though.

"For Ginny?" Owen asked. A lot of the girls, but so far most people had yet to cast their votes. "And for Neville?" Everyone else raised their hands... including Ginny and Jack. Ginny shrugged and grinned at him when he gave her the most befuddled look imaginable. "That's it, then." Owen announced. "Neville Longbottom is the leader of Dumbledore's Army."

"But-" Neville stammered, shocked, "Why me?"

"You're far better than you know." Ginny insisted.

Jack smirked, "And if Luna believes in you, isn't that good enough?"

Neville blushed a bit. So he did fancy Luna, then. It wasn't that surprising, really.

"So... what do we do? How do we cast the Fidelius Charm?" Neville asked, "That's something most fully trained wizards can't manage."

"I called in a favour." Jack said brightly, "It was a bit complicated, but it is urgent. You'll be coming with me, out of the castle. We Apparate to a specific house in Wales, and a certain acquaintance of mine can cast the spell."

"How do we get out of the castle?" Neville asked, shocked.

"Through the Chamber of Secrets." Jack smirked.

"Wh- _what!_" Neville looked a bit faint, and almost everyone was murmuring in shock and surprise now. Ginny wanted to know what the hell Jack meant, and all.

"My friends and I helped Harry find some more secrets besides the monster, down there. Turns out Salazar Slytherin was more of a mad scientist than an evil genius. It's his descendants- one most notably- who went and added to his legacy with ambitions of genocide and Pureblood supremacy."

Ginny folded her arms and stood a bit taller, "I'm going with you. I don't trust you."

Jack nodded, "If you like. If Harry was here, he'd tell you the same, but I can understand why you'd be suspicious."

"Should we tell them about the bird?" Owen asked.

"Not yet. Only if he decides to help." Jack shook his head.

"Bird?" Ginny demanded.

"Fawkes." Jack answered shrugging slightly.

"What about him?" Neville left, "He was Dumbledore's familiar, wasn't he? He left when Dumbledore died."

"I doubt that." Jack said dismissively, "Come on, the sooner we do this, the better. Theo?"

Theodore Nott stepped forward, "I'm perfectly willing to be bound gagged or Imperioed if necessary to make the rest of you comfortable... but for the lack of desire to arouse suspicion among the, ah, _teachers_, I've volunteered to impersonate Neville while he's away. Y'know, Polyjuice."

"We'll need a Ginny, as well." Jack asked, "We've got enough potion. Mad-Eye Moody is very helpful like that."

Zoe Alderton raised her hand, "It has to be a girl because of the protection charms on the girls' dorms. I'm up for it, if Mal and Stori can cover for me?"

Malcolm Radford and Astoria Greengrass both nodded. That was a thing with Slytherins... they stuck together, even when they deigned to negotiate with everyone else. Ginny wondered if being labelled evil made you hold onto the few people who accepted you, and figured that probably was the reason.

"I am so glad bird-boy's not here." Owen grumbled. It was aimed at Jack, but Ginny just managed to pick up the words, "Your girlfriend there looks a lot like a teenage version of his ex... and now she's gonna go changing her face."

"Owen... shut it." Jack ordered flatly, "When you're ready." he said to Ginny, Zoe, Neville and Theodore. "Curfew's in half an hour."

Owen produced a bottle of potion and a couple of vials. "If you only take a mouthful at a time, this should last all night... and honestly, it only needs to be used getting from here to the tower, and back again in the morning... or if a teacher's coming to check up on you. Use it sparingly, yeah?"

Ginny plucked a single hair from her head, and watched as Neville did the same. The potions were mixed with the hairs into the two separate vials. Zoe pulled a face, but Theo raised the vial dramatically, "La resistance!" he toasted, before swallowing a mouthful of it.

Zoe giggled, and took a sip of her own potion.

It looked incredibly painful, and Ginny turned away as the two Slytherins transformed into perfect copies of themselves. Ginny looked Zoe up and down critically, "Green suits me better after all." she joked, "Mum would pitch a fit!"

"Trade robes and ties. Don't need more than that." Owen ordered hastily, "Ginny, Neville, you follow Jack, he likes to think he knows what he's doing. And you two, just stick with your new housemates, they'll take care of you."

"So won't anyone notice the missing Slytherins?" Ernie asked, while Ginny pulled off her school tie and outer robe- the only colour-coded parts of the Hogwarts uniform- and traded them for Zoe's Slytherin green.

"Zoe and Theo- especially Theo- are known to be well behaved little minions." Owen sneered, earning himself a rude hand gesture from Theo, who happened to be holding Neville's school tie in the hand he made the gesture with at the time.

"And they've got cover stories all worked out." Jack added, "Well, Theo already did... Zoe will have by the time her classmates get back to the dorms."

"Now, before you all go, everyone listen up." Owen called, "Dark Arts classes, for those of you who haven't had the displeasure yet, involve learning the really nasty stuff, including the Cruciatus Curse. Detention earns you a class as the victim."

Jack visibly cringed at these words. Owen really was being far too casual and irreverent for the subject.

"Nobody wants detention. It is _worth _ obeying Death Eaters to avoid it." Owen declared clearly, "You are all to protect your younger classmates. I'd usually be the first to say if someone under your care gets hurt you're to be blamed, shamed and punished... but I think your consciences will do that for you. We're all meant to be growing up, taking responsibility. Protecting the innocent." he was looking right at the group of Gryffindors as he said that. "Looking out for your friends." he added mostly to the Hufflepuffs. "Ensuring the security of the next generation." to the Ravenclaws. "Sticking together through all the shit they can throw at us!" went to the Slytherins. "You are all to ensure that every student obeys the rules, every student toes the line. _Every single bloody one_."

A dramatic pause as silence echoed ominously through the room.

Then, he promptly shattered the tension by adding, "When the line's being watched, at least."

"Now all of you get back to your common rooms before curfew." Jack added, before turning to Ginny and Neville, "Are we ready?"

Ginny nodded, a bit nervous now they were actually going through with this plan and she was committed to joining them.

"So we just need to get to the Chamber of Secrets unseen, right?" Neville asked.

"Exactly." Jack agreed.

The other students were all filing out, when Neville gasped softly, and pointed across the room. Ginny looked and saw a door there that hadn't been there before. It bore a plaque that read, '_Chamber of Secrets_'.

Jack looked as well, somewhat bemused, "Well, if the room can be trusted- and so far I don't see why not- then maybe that door is exactly what we need." he grinned, "Well done, Neville."

x x x


	106. Lie To Me

x x x

**Chapter 106: Lie To Me**

x x x

Archibald Hicks, better known to his friends and enemies alike as Archie, waltzed in through the official portal into the Ministry of Magic like he belonged. Well, technically, legally, he kinda did. It was about midnight, and there were about half a dozen guards on duty in the Atrium.

"Oi, what're you doing there, old man?" one of said guards demanded. Archie sauntered over, stumbling a little bit... and he didn't half stink of Firewhiskey and all.

"Got this 'ere imporan' project." Archie slurred, "For the betterment of wizarding society and all that. Fergot something in me office. Won't be five minutes, ah promise." The exaggerated hand gestures waving at the gilded elevators, and holding up a sheaf of parchment with magically moving diagrams srawled all over it, seemed to put the guards at ease.

Intoxicated, and presenting valid paperwork. Mostly harmless.

"You're bloody drunk." one of them sniped, disgusted.

"I do find I do me best work after about me sixth pint." Archie nodded, then added for good measure, "Of Ogden's, o'course."

The guard he had initially approached rolled his eyes, and sneered in revulsion, "Of course. Get a move on, then, old man."

Archie waddled off towards the elevator, mumbling to himself about Transfiguration pair sets, and displacement values, and sifting through the papers he held as he did so. He distinctly heard a loud snort and a few choice remarks about the quality of his- undeniably old- bloodline, before he stepped into the elevator and hit the down button.

As soon as the floor rose up past him, he dropped the drunk act and shook his head in amusement. He did so enjoy being underestimated.

The floor he came out on was bloody freezing, but otherwise deserted, so he just made his way fairly sharpish to the Department of Mysteries. He'd been in here before, had a job offer, but told them where to shove it after the first week. So he knew how it worked, at least. It took him about twenty minutes to disable the security systems in the Time Room, and set the Time Turner up on the shelf where Jack had told him to. Then a smear of paint on the door and a rude gesture at the place in general, and he was off again.

He pulled a bottle of Firewhiskey- laced with untraceable sedatives, of course- out of a too-small pocket, and hit the button for Atrium on the lift.

He started singing loudly and raucously, as the lift ascended, and when he stumbled drunkenly out into the Atrium, the six guards all converged on him, "'Tis a great day for wizardkind, just you wait! My work will be a landmark in all of history!" he crowed, "Come on, lads, have a drink with me. Toast to this glorious golden age and all who brought it to pass!"

They were dubious, but Archie feigned taking a deep swig from the bottle, and offered it to them eagerly.

"Drinkin' on the job? Boss'll have our heads." one of them muttered.

"That's your loss, isn't it?" another one growled, snatching the bottle and taking a long drink.

"Don't you be drinking it all to yerself, laddie!" Archie protested, "Share around, I always say!"

"Yeah, we'll share this. You get lost, old man." the first guard snapped, taking the bottle himself.

Archie waited as they all took a drink, and then one by one they all passed out. Timing couldn't have gone better, in his opinion. He levitated the lot of them into a closet, removed their shoes, socks and pants, and upturned the bottle over them. He didn't lock them in, that sedative was good for a few hours, and it would look suspicious if it were locked from the outside.

The shoes, socks and pants were then magically banished to various locations throughout the Ministry building. Archie didn't put too much thought into exactly where, but he made sure there was a pair of pants in both the Minister's office and that awful Umbridge woman's desk.

"Very productive night, lads." Archie toasted to the locked closet, "The world will thank ye for yer gullibility."

x x x

The mysterious escape of the prisoners has been a significant setback. The Dark Lord would not be pleased when he heard.

Dolores Umbridge was doing her best to control the damage. The negligent and drunken guards had been disciplined. Dolores would quite had liked to be able to personally participate in such punishment, which involved the Cruciatus curse, a healthy dose of public humiliation, and a dramatic pay cut. However, time was valuable, hers vastly more so.

She would never admit to being pleased that whoever had infiltrated the building had disposed of the Dementors, but it certainly did make it easier for her to concentrate. The Dark Lord had personally assigned her the task of monitoring the Mudbloods, and monitor was exactly what she did.

Tracking charms were activated and traced. A few of them went for their homes, however the escape had occurred the previous night and those who had been foolish enough to follow the predictable pattern were long gone from there by now.

All of them had left the country. Apparated across the English Channel, apparently. A very clever plan, as it meant Dolores now had to negotiate for their extradition. It was a good thing she had access to Cornelius' old files, and all their accompanying blackmail material on certain high-ranking officials of other countries.

This would take a while, but she would get them back. Dead or alive.

x x x

"They're watching the gates, and the roads. They're watching the main grounds, but not the wild outskirts." Jack explained, "The near side of the lake, they'd catch us, but the far side..."

"How do we get there?" Neville asked. Just at that moment the tunnel down from the Room of Requirement opened out into the nice clean and tidy potions lab of the Chamber of Secrets. Owen's domain, though usually under Salazar's supervision.

"There's a teleport pedestal outside." Jack explained, as Ginny frowned and stared around the room, "Parseltongue password, but I have a recording of Harry saying it, so we can get in and out, no problem. We've been using it for about a year now. I'm really glad you found that secret passage. Or did you make it? Because the only other way in here is kind of untidy, still."

Ginny shuddered, and edged closer to Neville. "The Basilisk's still out there?"

"Owen's stripped it for potions ingredients." Jack said, shrugging, "Skin, feathers, bone dust, venom... you don't want to know the potions he claims he can make with dried and powdered Basilisk eyes. He's been begging me to let him breed a new one, but there are limits to what I let him get away with."

Ginny and Neville both stared in shock at Jack, "You know..." Neville said thoughtfully, "I wouldn't put it past Owen Harper to try something mad like that. But without someone like Harry to control it... good thing he listens to you."

"He doesn't always listen." Jack said warningly, "I wasn't joking when I said that Ianto did shoot him with a Muggle gun, while he was trying to destroy the world... with all the best intentions, but still."

"But how-?" Ginny asked, shocked.

"Never let a person with nothing to lose near controls to a rift in time and space." Jack answered flatly. "Never goes well."

"I don't like it down here." Ginny said sharply, "Can we go, please?"

"Of course. This way." Jack led the way through to the pedestal room.

Ginny looked immensely relieved by the fact it didn't require them to go through the old and filthy atrium. Jack vaguely wondered why Salazar didn't just throw some cleaning spells at it, block the leaks from the sewage system above and put down some rat traps now there wasn't a Basilisk to eat the vermin... but he decided it was best not to question the brilliant but ancient being.

One of very few to whom Jack conceded the right to call him young.

"You do know I hate how you're using this place, like it's somehow alright after everything that happened down here." Ginny all but hissed at him.

"You'd rather these resources go to waste, because they came from bad events?" he asked, frowning, "I prefer the mentality that if something tries to kill me and I kill it instead, it's another final insult to use everything it left behind for my own gain. Or the betterment of humanity, whichever's more convenient."

Neville snorted at this glib comment, but Ginny continued to scowl, "You didn't kill the Basilisk. Harry did."

"And he's in on this whole thing with us." Jack agreed, "Using the Chamber as my own infamously secret underground base may have been my idea, but he endorsed it. He helped us with potions for ousting Umbridge, clearing Dumbledore's name, faking Draco's death, and slowly poisoning Mark Avery. Well, he might not have been aware of that last one, but still."

Neville outright laughed at that, and Ginny elbowed him sharply, "It's not funny!"

"I was joking about the poison, by the way. Owen says he has something much worse than a slow death planned for Avery."

"See? He's benign evil." Neville said brightly.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "I like that. All Slytherins are evil, just some of them are the type that aims at our enemies."

"Now you're getting it." Jack grinned. He stepped up onto the pedestal and beckoned them to join him. When they did, he tapped a button on his commlink and it hissed the password for him, teleporting them out to the far edge of the lake. He quickly darted into the undergrowth there, beckoning the others to follow.

It was only a few feet to the treeline of the Forbidden Forest, and the far side of the Apparation barriers- though not the Forest itself- wasn't that much farther.

x x x

"You have yet to tell me why you came here without my nephew." Gwenog Jones demanded.

Jack shrugged, "He had detention. Technically, we shouldn't be out of school grounds, but it is kind of urgent."

"Your message said so, yes." Gwenog nodded coldly, "You do understand if you are caught you endanger not only yourselves, but also my reputation."

"I don't get caught unless I want to." Jack said simply.

"Quite the ego, I see." she sniped.

"You have no idea." Ginny laughed.

"Ianto would want you to do this." Jack insisted, "It's for a good cause, and his own safety."

Neville scowled at Jack for that, but didn't speak up in front of the infamous and intimidating captain of the Holyhead Harpies.

Gwenog sighed, "Very well. Let us begin."

Neville became the Secret Keeper of the D.A., just as Dumbledore had been for the Order of the Phoenix. Ginny spent the entire return trip trying to interrogate Jack about the Chamber of Secrets. However, when they returned, it was to see Fawkes sitting on the plinth in the entrance to said Chamber. He held a piece of parchment in one claw, and offered it to Jack.

Neville and Ginny read over his shoulder.

'_The Head Girl has observed the absence of Jack Harkness._'

Neville and Ginny both looked up at him, and it was Neville who said with resignation, "Well, bugger."

"Not right now, thanks." Jack dismissed vaguely, making Neville blush and Ginny giggle, "Back to the Room of Requirement. Wait for dawn as scheduled. I'll deal with Pansy."

They followed the hidden path, and as soon as they set foot into the Room of Requirement, Jack said aloud, "I want my Boggart!"

"You summoned me, my Captain?" the entirely too familiar voice of his own worst fear sneered morbidly behind him.

"We have a teenage girl to traumatise." Jack said to it, quite cheerfully.

"Do I even need to change shape?" it asked, smirking that twisted smirk of evil it was so very good at impersonating.

"Aww, I wish we could see that!" Ginny protested.

"We need to see it." Neville agreed... and a crystal ball appeared beside him when they blinked.

"Oh, that's brilliant, Neville!" Ginny grinned.

x x x

When Jack and his Boggart reached the common room, Pansy was stalking back and forth, just waiting for him to come back late and get into trouble.

"So what is it?" Jack whispered, staying just out of sight of the ajar, supposedly secret, entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"Rats. How ridiculously petty is that?" the Boggart sneered, "She's afraid of _rats_ more than anything else. At least your worst fear is somewhat more emotionally mature, sophisticated, psychologically damaged-"

"Enough."

The Boggart just smirked back at him with his own face.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Alright then, I guess you can just chase her into the girls' dorms." Jack said. He sighed, "You know, I had been hoping for something more melodramatic, as well. Maybe her parents calling her a Squib, or herself destitute and powerless. Rats... that really is kind of a lame fear."

"She's inexperienced and childish. She'll learn."

"We'll see to it she does." Jack smirked. He gestured towards the door, "After you."

As it reached the doorway the Boggart sank to the ground in a whirl of smoke, shifting into a writhing mass of swarming scampering rats, which rushed into the common room, skittering straight for Pansy.

She shrieked predictably, and raced away down the corridor to the girls' dorms. Jack slipped through the room as quickly as he could, and into the first year boys' dorms.

"Where were you?" Ianto asked with a frown, while the two actual first years in the room sat up and stared in bleary-eyed confusion.

"Here. All night." Jack answered too-cheerfully, "Someone else must have slipped Pansy some kind of hallucination potion. I'd expect it was Avery."

"Of course." Ianto sighed. The two first years exchanged a look, shrugged, and layed back down again as if to sleep.

Ianto stayed sitting up a moment longer, but when Jack managed a trick that wasn't in the textbooks, of magically removing his robes and replacing them with pyjamas with one wave of his wand and not an inch of skin exposed that wasn't usually by the act of wearing either of said outfits, he seemed to give in for now and also laid down with a resigned shake of his head.

It was only two seconds after Jack had slipped under the covers of his own bed and settled comfortably that the door slammed open. Both first years jumped up in an instant. Ianto glowered at the door. Jack feigned a very loud snore.

Pansy stared in confusion for a second, before, "Where the hell have you been, Harkness?"

Another loud snore.

"He's a heavy sleeper." Ianto said flatly, "I swear he could probably sleep through the end of the world."

"But he wasn't here a minute ago." Pansy hissed.

"Yes he was." Ianto said simply. It was technically true. Jack had actually been in the room for about three and a half minutes.

Pansy seethed.

"I hear lack of sleep can cause hallucinations." Tavion offered innocently. Livia nodded in agreement, managing to look convincingly concerned for Pansy's mental state.

Pansy glowered at the lump of tangled bed sheets under which lay a pretending-to-sleep Jack Harkness, and all but growled, "I know he missed curfew."

"He was in here by six o'clock, Pansy." Ianto said with an exasperated sigh. This was also true, though Ianto knew perfectly well that he had left again before seven.

Pansy seethed a few moments longer, before storming out in a towering fury.

Livia looked around at the others, and hopped out of bed to check Pansy had really gone. She turned back, closing the door and announcing, "It's clear." before trotting back to bed as if the cold stone floor was burning her bare feet.

"You owe us." Tavion said simply.

Jack, who had sat up while Livia checked the door, nodded, smiling, "Of course."

x x x

Jack hated himself for what he had done to Ianto. He understood it was necessary if he wanted to lie to a telepath's face, when Ianto really didn't have the ability to shield his mind completely. He could hide everything with absolute perfection from any normal person, but if Tosh could get through his Torchwood One mental training with next to no practice and a bit of alien jewellery, then Voldemort certainly wouldn't have any trouble.

But it was worse because Owen had insisted on not telling the D.A. that Ianto was playing triple-agent. In order to be perfectly paranoid about their own people, they had let the other kids believe that Ianto's 'betrayal' was entirely real and not at all as complicated as it actually was. Owen had gone on to explain that they had come by this information from illicit sources, and it was best not to let the 'enemy' know they knew... especially since the enemy also included the teachers who could dish out detentions.

That didn't stop the other students from subtly shunning Ianto.

Not that he liked the Hufflepuff common room anyway ('too Hobbity', he had said), but now he was outright threatened when he dared set foot there. And he was a Prefect, damnit! Even the other Slytherins in the D.A. were doing it, although it was the Gryffindors who were most vicious, even when Owen threatened them to try to get them to stop it.

Jack had tried to comfort him, but it wasn't all that easy when he had to pretend he didn't know what was going on. Made it a lot harder to show the genuine understanding and empathy he felt for the situation Ianto had gone and put himself in.

"Get out of my way, ignorant Squib!" Jack heard Padma Patil snarl. He rounded the corner to see Ianto just dodging an attempt by another Ravenclaw to smack him with a textbook.

"Damn it, girls!" Jack snarled, "Grow some common sense and leave him alone!" Jack shouted at them. He was bloody sick of it.

The other Ravenclaw girl glowered at him, but Padma stared at Jack in confusion. She didn't voice what the D.A. all 'knew' about Ianto. They were _supposed_ to pretend they didn't know, but it hadn't stopped them from acting out like the immature children they really should have outgrown being by now. These two were both seventeen, legally adults in the wizarding world, they should know better.

"The next person to try anything against him will wish they had never met me!"

"Jack, you don't have to-" Ianto started, but Jack waved his hand to cut off the protest.

"I will Imperio the next person who dares cross either one of us into walking up to Snape in the middle of the Great Hall at dinnertime, declaring their undying love in rhyming verse, and asking him to sign a copy of Gilderoy Lockhart's autobiography. Are we clear?"

Padma backed up a step in horror.

"You have twenty-four hours to pass that warning on, girls." Jack growled, before seizing Ianto's arm and dragging him away before he could even think of a decent protest.

"You are quite terrifying, when you want to be." Ianto pointed out as they walked up the stairs away from the other students.

"Why thank you, Ianto Jones." Jack cheered. It was forced, but he was a _very_ good actor. "Come on. Seventh floor." It was impossible for Ianto to know, now that the Fidelius Charm had been cast, that the specific room on the seventh floor was used by the D.A. as a safe house and headquarters... but he was still able to know the room existed, what it could do, and all the other ways they had used it before the D.A.

"Don't worry about them." Jack insisted as they entered the Room of Requirement, "I'll have Owen and Luna do things to them. It'll be hilarious, untraceable, and the teachers won't even see."

"You really don't- Luna?"

"She's scary, that one." Jack grinned, "Ravenclaws usually think in neat little categories. Tosh thinks outside the box... but Luna. She doesn't even know there _is_ a box."

Ianto's smile at that was weak but sincere, "She is unique, I'll admit."

"Don't let them get to you, Ianto." Jack said with a sigh. He hadn't really taken in their surroundings in the room, but there was always an obscenely comfortable couch when he and Ianto came in here, and he now glanced around, spotted it and guided Ianto towards it. Ianto resisted a little, but then gave in and slumped against the cushions.

"Should I just stay here?" he asked blankly.

"The Slytherins know better than to argue with me." Jack said gently, "You can still stay down in the dungeons if you like."

"Malcolm and Zoe tried to throw me in the lake." Ianto said flatly, "I can't prove it was them, but..."

"They won't do it again unless they want me to spike their pumpkin juice with Gillyweed." Jack assured him.

Ianto smirked faintly at that. Unprocessed Gillyweed was what Harry had used in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, and as a side effect of allowing you to breathe underwater for an hour, it also made you _unable_ to breathe _above _ the water for that same hour.

"We've got to stick together, Ianto." He hated saying that when he knew what Ianto was doing, but it was still true, "And if I have to threaten and blackmail everyone in this castle to get that message across, I will."

Ianto suddenly lunged into Jack's arms, clinging on to him desperately. Jack wasn't sure he could handle the pressure of this. The few previous instances Jack knew of, of Ianto running a major long-term con like this, he hadn't been constantly hounded by those who were meant to be his friends. He had been left to work in peace, and he preferred it that way.

Jack needed- desperately needed- to find a way to either talk to Ianto about it without endangering him, and/or get the D.A. to back off without risking Ianto's cover.

But how?

x x x


	107. The Devil You Know

x x x

**Chapter 107: The Devil You Know**

x x x

Humiliating would be an understatement.

It had been just over a month since Ianto had made that deal with Pansy, and she had already dragged him along to an undisclosed location to meet with the Dark Lord. Now he was kneeling in the middle of a circle of mocking and laughing Death Eaters, while being questioned on his bloodline.

"I am the grandson of Arwen Jones and Prudence Smith. Purebloods back as far as the records go." he said calmly, "My cousin is captain of the Holyhead Harpies, I have an uncle who married Celestina Warbeck's little sister, and a cousin who married a woman of the Malfoy line. I'm not sure you can get better pedigree than that when I freely admit that my mother was the great granddaughter of a Squib."

He might have been oversimplifying the relationships. Both cousins were once removed, and the uncle was a great uncle... but he didn't feel the need to clarify that unless asked.

"And why, pray tell, did you choose to join us?" Voldemort asked, "Miss Parkinson informs us that you are quite loyal to my enemies."

"The loyalty she spoke of is to one person, and I don't much care who he allies himself with." Ianto answered, frowning at the stone floor in front of him, feigning respect by keeping his head lowered rather than allowing the telepath to read his true feelings on the subject, "She encouraged me to join in exchange for his ensured safety."

He glanced up to see the Dark Lord give Pansy a questioning look, and she cringed a bit, "I promised I would keep his 'boyfriend', Jack Harkness, out of the new detentions, is all."

Ianto frowned, bowing his head again as the Dark Lord returned his attention to him.

"That's all?" Voldemort asked with a bit of a sneer.

"I would like to think good behaviour could earn me some leeway?" he asked hopefully, "I will need him alive, unharmed and unaware of the situation, if I'm going to be using him to help me spy on your enemies, My Lord."

"Tell me everything you know of Potter's activities." Voldemort demanded coldly.

"I know that he can't return to his family. I don't know where the Order sent them, but it's not in this country. I know that his last known location is protected by the Fidelius charm but there's no guarantee he'll stay there. In fact, it's very likely he'll try to leave. I know he has some kind of plan, and I know Jack knows what it is. I also heard discussion of the possibility of them using the Fidelius charm on that very plan, as well. Jack won't be involved in that, because he's been keeping a secret for years now, and you can only keep one secret per soul."

Every word of this was true. He had no intention of lying to the telepath... though if he couldn't find another way he may have to omit details in the future.

Voldemort actually laughed. A cold and hollow sound, "Potter has a plan, does he? You will find out what this plan is. Through any means necessary."

Ianto nodded and bowed as he answered, "Yes, My Lord."

And with that Voldemort swept out of the room with almost but not quite as much dramatic flair as either Jack or Snape would. Ianto was a bit surprised that the suggestion of a Dark Mark was never brought up. Perhaps he wasn't quite as ridiculously bad a strategist as everyone thought after all.

The circle around him began to dissipate. Pansy gravitated towards a man who looked like he must be her father, before skulking away. Even she was shaken by her first meeting with the Dark Lord. Honestly, Ianto had met worse. He'd like to see how Voldemort squared up to Bilis Manger on a bad day. He'd pay good money to see that, actually. From a safe distance, of course.

"Hufflepuff traitors? What's next?" Walden Macnair jeered, as he wandered off with a couple of other heavies.

"You know that boy of yours is on thin ice." Bellatrix all but purred, sneering down her nose at Ianto, "And if you fail I'm going to volunteer to punish you. Let Harkness watch his little pet scream in agony."

"You're eager." Ianto said, trying to keep his tone even.

"Should just go ahead and Crucio him now." a man who Ianto was quite sure was Bellatrix's husband growled, "He's not worth our time."

"Go ahead then." Ianto challenged, "See how kindly the Dark Lord reacts. Torture me until I look like the Longbottoms, he'll just do the same to you."

Bellatrix grabbed her husband's hand to stop him from going for his wand, "Boy's right. We'll wait until he fails. A Hufflepuff child has no chance of turning the tide, deary."

"Bella." Ianto said with saccharine cheer, "Go fuck a Dementor." And he turned and stalked out of the room, in the direction from which he had originally entered. He heard her indignant shrieks follow him until the door slammed shut, and then there was silence.

He was fairly certain this building had once belonged to the Malfoys, but now its walls had been stripped of portraits, and it looked more like a cold and stark fortress than a home.

He was about halfway from the meeting room to the front door, and that had taken about a minute of walking through winding corridors and one rather elaborate stairway, when he heard footsteps behind him. He pretended to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would just go away. If they actually wanted his attention they could damned well say something.

Except in spite of the brisk pace Ianto had maintained since he left the meeting room, the person following him still caught up rather quickly, and seized him by the arm, dragging him into the nearest room. Which happened to be one of the guest bedrooms of the Manor.

"You know they'll find non-permanent ways to make your life hell." the smooth male voice purred, as the man shoved Ianto further into the room and shut the door firmly behind them both.

Ianto turned to face him, glaring bitterly. He wasn't the type to look at all out of place in the ranks of those who include the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov and Walden Macnair. Pale skin, wild hair, dark old-fashioned clothes. This one in particular wouldn't have looked out of place in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie, either.

"Yeah, sadism and a lack of loyalty or civility does seem to be the usual requirement to join the Death Eaters." Ianto sniped, "I kind of noticed." Even those fanatics like Bellatrix who followed the Dark Lord without question still would turn on their closest friend in a heartbeat, for any scrap of power or glory offered to them.

"For the right motivation, we're all willing to behave ourselves." the man said with a smirk, stepping forward with a bit of a swagger that only enhanced the Pirates of the Caribbean feel. "My name's Scabior." he held out his hand, "And I'd like to make you an offer, for your own protection."

Ianto did not accept Scabior's hand, watching him with deepest scepticism. "What kind of 'protection'?" he asked, knowing full well how the usual protection racket worked, that you were usually paying for 'protection' from the one you paid as much as from anyone else.

Scabior smirked malevolently, "You know as soon as the Dark Lord knows everything you can learn for him, they'll all swoop on you like a pack of vultures."

"I just bet you'll call first dibs, and all." Ianto sneered, folding his arms defensively. Scabior shrugged, smirking and not even deigning to feign innocence about it in the least. "So what do you want from me, exactly? You know I'm already paying blackmail to Pansy Parkinson, as it is, right?"

Scabior snorted, "That little girl will get burned sooner or later, just you wait. Whatever you think you owe her is child's play compared to what you've gotten into here with us. And I don't really need money, not when I can get my way through violence and blackmail just as well without a penny."

"Aww, I was hoping you were going to say Knut." Ianto said, pretending to look like he thought that was funny. He was really a bit too scared to laugh at it just yet.

Scabior backhanded him across the face, hard, before grabbing him by the throat and shoving him up against the nearest wall. "I'm sure I could find quite a few uses for you, boy. All of them far better choices than what any one of us will do to you if you keep insulting us. For now, how about I don't Crucio you to tears, in exchange for a verbal agreement that you'll be willing to obey me when I figure out exactly what I want, hmm?"

Ianto was trembling slightly, but managed to catch his breath when Scabior loosened his grip, "You mean... you want me to promise to do _anything_, to avoid being tortured? Sorry, but I already did that once and it didn't get my anywhere nice... although the decor..." he glanced around the room for a moment before sneering at Scabior, "I think I'd prefer the Cruciatus, thanks."

Instead, he found himself being violently kissed by the Death Eater before him. Felt teeth sink into his lip when he tried to resist, tasted blood in his mouth... and then he was released. He glared up at the man with disgust, "I'm really getting sick of having to remind people of this... but you do realise I'm only fifteen, right?" he asked coldly, before covering his injured lip with one hand.

Scabior chuckled with sadistic amusement, "I didn't tell you my last name, did I?" Ianto did not see how this was at all relevant, and continued glowering in a way that told him just that. Until he leaned over and whispered in Ianto's ear, with a near feral growl, "Greyback. Fenrir is my father."

He gasped in shock at the realisation of what the man had just done to him. "No." he whispered, horrified.

And with that, Scabior simply turned and left Ianto alone. Cruel sadistic laughter echoing in his wake.

x x x

Ianto was beginning to panic as he left the Manor. He was trying to hide it, but all he could think about was that he was just bitten by a werewolf, and while he knew they weren't contagious all the time he also knew there was a certain time of the month that they could turn you even in human form, and how far away was the nearest full moon, exactly, anyway?

He really wasn't paying attention to where he was going, or to his surroundings, as he passed out through the gates, and walked down the path to the Apparation barriers. He needed to get past these barriers to even use a Portkey, because some genius had decided to be extra paranoid.

But he had seen Lupin at Harry's birthday, and that was the thirty-first of July. It was the third of October now, which meant that was nine weeks ago so that didn't help.

There had been an article in the Daily Prophet about Greyback attacking a family in Devon, but that had been two weeks ago, and it hadn't reported the date of the attack.

Then suddenly his thought process was interrupted by someone grabbing him from behind, arms firmly across his chest, and then the familiar sensation of Apparation. It's next to suicide to resist someone attempting to take you with them through Apparation. Guarantees a splinching, and the harder you fight the worse the damage.

Instead he turned around the second they landed, and cast a wordless stunning spell at the man who had grabbed him.

Except the man caught Ianto's wrist and twisted it so the spell went off to the side. _Then_ Ianto realised who it was.

"Oh, not you again!" he protested, pulling his arm away from John Hart's grip.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble it is trying to stalk you?" Hart practically pouted, as if causing him trouble was actually a bad thing, "You're always either somewhere I can't find, or somewhere I can't get into. It's bloody infuriating!"

Ianto rolled his eyes in disgust, "Why are you stalking me this time?" he demanded irritably. He was still shaken by his visit to the fortress formerly known as Malfoy Manor, and he really did not have the patience to deal with John Hart's bullshit right now.

Hart did not answer. Instead he gave Ianto a very critical look, and asked, "What's wrong? It can't be something I've done, unless I haven't done it yet."

Under any other circumstances, even John Hart would have earned a faint smirk from Ianto for that turn of phrase... but he was right, something was very wrong, and he couldn't think of anyone else he could trust with it. "Scabior Greyback bit me." he said, turning away from him bitterly, raising a hand to the cut on his lip again.

"_Scabior?_" Hart asked. Ianto nodded. "Well, according to the history I've read, while it's true Fenrir Greyback had a son, the child was never turned. And..." Ianto glanced up to see that Hart was checking his wriststrap, "It was a new moon two days ago. Lycanthropes are only contagious for seventy-two hours around the full moon, so even if I'm wrong or history changed, you're still safe."

Ianto flinched when he felt Hart's hand touched his cheek, and tilted his head up and around so that he could see the injury.

"Doesn't look that bad." Hart said with a smirk and a bit of a leer. Ianto pulled away. "Like I said-" Hart continued, "No permanent harm done."

Ianto folded his arms defensively, "You still haven't told me why you're stalking me this time." he pointed out, a bit less venom in his tone than he expected.

He was just so relieved that Scabior had only been trying to scare him. In retrospect, actually trying to turn him would probably have seriously pissed Voldmort off, since the Dark Lord did want him to be in a fit condition for espionage. At least until he outlived his usefulness... something he was quite sure was inevitable.

Now he began to actually take in his surroundings. A small bedsit, by the looks of it. He vaguely wondered if Hart had actually rented the place, or just decided to use it in spite of whoever may really own it. He decided it was better not to ask, either way.

"Well..." Hart was still watching him, a glimmer in his eyes that seemed just a bit too calculating. "Maybe I'll tell you later, I don't think you've told me everything yet."

"Why do you want me to tell you about how shit my life has been this month?" Ianto demanded angrily.

"Because I may soon be adding to the shit, and I really don't want my only ally to break under the pressure of it all."

"I am not your ally." Ianto snapped.

Hart smirked, "Closest I've got right now, so you'll just have to do, now won't you?"

Ianto rolled his eyes and sulked. He supposed it was slightly better to form an unwilling allegiance with John Hart than with the Death Eaters. At least he _knew_ John Hart.

"Look." Hart said, his tone almost gentle, and before Ianto really knew what was happening Hart had pulled him over to the bed, so they were both sitting on the edge, "Who am I gonna tell, hmm? Even if I did tell anyone, who would believe me? You're the only person I even know in this century who won't curse or shoot at me on sight-"

"I did try to curse you." Ianto pointed out, squirming a little, but not really making an effort to get away from the man who could- as he had said once before- kill him with a wave of his hand.

"I need you, but I think you need me too." Hart said, his voice almost seductive.

And he was right, wasn't he? Ianto really couldn't tell anyone he would usually trust about what he was doing. He had no desire to show weakness to any of the Death Eaters. His friends probably _would _ shoot Hart on sight, so _he_ most likely wouldn't be able to tell them if he wanted to.

Ianto sighed, giving in to the logic however much he still hated this man, "I joined the Death Eaters. They want me to use Jack to spy on Harry Potter and his friends. I did it so I could try to spy on the Death Eaters instead." he turned to look up at Hart as he continued, "One tiny problem with that plan, Vol-"

He wasn't able to finish the word, because Hart had kissed him. He was instantly overwhelmed by the pheromones, and when the kiss broke after only a second, he really couldn't remember what he had been talking about.

"Don't say his name, there's a curse on it. Unless our collective meddling in time made him think that level of ego wasn't a good idea?"

Ianto managed to scrape his thoughts together fairly quickly, "Not likely. Have you met him?" he sniped. He suddenly realised that right before the kiss he had seen a flash of fear on Hart's face... like that was actually the first thing he thought of to silence Ianto, rather than the more usual and sane method of placing a hand over the culprit's mouth.

"Always wanted to." Hart shrugged vaguely.

"My- my point is, he's a telepath." Ianto explained, "If I can't shield my mind from an untrained Muggle playing with an alien trinket, what chance have I against the most powerful Legilimens this century?"

"So what? He knows what you're up to?"

"Not yet. Economy with the truth got me this far, but if Jack knew what I was doing, then- then The Dark Lord would be able to tell."

"So you're lying to all your friends." Hart surmised, "I'm the only one not involved on either side, so I'm the only one you can really talk to."

"Seems that way." Ianto said with a bit of a sulk. It was only now that he realised he had relaxed into Hart's embrace, and he wasn't sure exactly how long ago that had happened either. "This still doesn't mean I like you."

"Of course."

"I've never done this without someone to talk to about it before." Ianto admitted, "Every time I've lied or cheated, I've always had someone to tell the truth to as well."

"Well now you can tell me." Hart said gently, "Lay down."

Ianto was startled by that suggestion, "What? Why?"

Hart rolled his eyes, "Whatever I tell you, you'll assume I'm lying. Just do what I say, hmm?"

"Yes." Ianto admitted freely, "And you must also realise that I feel compelled to do the exact opposite of what you say, even when you do give me a valid reason. Which you haven't."

Hart rolled his eyes, then grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him down onto the bed, turning him around as he did so, so Ianto landed on his stomach.

"The hell?" Ianto yelped, trying to sit up. But he wasn't quick enough, and now Hart was sitting astride his hips. "Let me go!"

"Relax." Hart positively purred, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Then suddenly Ianto wasn't wearing his robes, tie or shirt. He had been wearing them a second ago, and now they had just vanished. Now he was, in fact, only wearing the Muggle jeans he had worn under his robes. Even the shoes and socks had gone.

He tried to struggle, but when that didn't work he slumped forward and glowered over his shoulder, "Have you ever seen a weaponised, cursed, and possibly demonically possessed fork? Causes an awful lot of bleeding, I'm pretty sure that was intentional, and I know someone who'd be very happy to stab you in some incredibly painful places with it."

"I really am not going to hurt you." Hart insisted, "Just relax. Please. Oh, now look what you made me say!"

Ianto snorted, "You're actually proud of your bad attitude, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Ianto sighed, "I don't suppose I have a choice. This _isn't_ helping my stress levels, though. Just in case you didn't guess."

Hart didn't answer that, but Ianto felt his weight shift as he reached for something on the bedside table, and then a moment later he felt hands pressing firmly but gently into his shoulders. There was something on Hart's hands, some kind of oil, and it made his muscles relax instantly where it touched him. It was incredibly soothing, and it didn't hurt that Hart seemed to know exactly what he was doing as he slowly and carefully massaged all the knots of tension out of Ianto's back.

He couldn't help himself, Ianto positively purred at the feeling.

He knew that emotional and mental stress was bad for physical wellbeing, but he hadn't realised just how wound up his body had been until it suddenly wasn't.

"Mmm, what is that oil?" Ianto had to ask. He didn't think anything of Earth origin- or at least Muggle Earth- could cause that kind of instantaneous reaction.

"Alteran fall-flowers." Hart answered, "They bloom in the autumn when everything else is dying. This is very dilute, just a relaxant, and maybe a bit of an aphrodisiac... at full strength it's paralytic. It's the same stuff I use in my lip gloss."

Ianto looked around, and just managed to crane his neck enough to direct an incredulous and slightly scared look his way.

"I said it's diluted. Won't do you any harm in this dose. It's on my bare hands, look."

Ianto was still sceptical, but did feel just a bit too calm to argue, instead resting his head back down and allowing Hart to continue working on his back.

When he finished, Hart moved to settle down on the other side of the bed, watching him intently. Ianto rolled onto his side to face Hart, "So this information you have to add to the shit?"

"I'll tell you in the morning." Hart promised, smirking.

"What if I'd rather go back to Hogwarts now?"

"You can't. There are spells on this flat, you can't leave without me accompanying you." Hart answered with a vague shrug, "You _are_ going to stay the night. What happens during that time is entirely up to you."

There was an obvious leer on Hart's face, and the combination of the scent of the oil- yes, he got the feeling it _was_ an aphrodisiac- and the fifty-first century pheromones... he was a little bit surprised he hadn't already jumped Hart. He really felt like he wanted to, but he knew there was a lot of chemical coercion going on here.

Ianto looked away, "Turn off the pheromones. Stop looking at me like that."

He heard an amused chuckle, and felt arms wrap around him, "If you say so." the pheromones _did_ fade. Probably as much as Hart was able to consciously repress them. Ianto still wanted him. Knew it was wrong, but wanted it anyway.

"I really do hate you." Ianto growled, before turning around and kissing him.

x x x


	108. Cooperation

x x x

**Chapter 108: Cooperation**

x x x

Ianto woke up slowly, feeling so very comfortable and safe... which, once he regained full awareness of the situation about ten seconds later, he mentally kicked himself for, as he realised he was lying in John Hart's arms. And Hart was awake... watching him.

He absolutely hated to admit, even in his own mind, that he hadn't felt this good in years. Not since he had been deaged. Actually, to be a lot more specific, not since the last time he had sex with Jack. Although, he couldn't help the feeling of smugness that Jack was better than Hart... quite a lot better, in fact, even though Hart was certainly impressive himself.

He blushed a bit at that thought, and looked away.

He heard a faint chuckle from Hart, "Morning, Eye-Candy. I'm beginning to see why Jack likes you so much."

Ianto scowled, but didn't turn to look at him, "If you think my looks, or my skills in bed, are the only things he sees in me, you're sorely mistaken." Aside from anything else, Jack had personally taught him a lot of those 'skills'.

"Hmm. I believe it." It was impossible to tell when Hart was lying, but Ianto liked to think this was the truth. He should sound sarcastic if not, right?

And then he felt lips on his neck, and tilted his head to encourage more. It felt entirely too good, and he knew that he shouldn't let himself enjoy it... but fuck it, he had been through hell this month, and he deserved a little comfort from someone who could at least pretend to understand.

And if this was pretend, Hart was a damned good actor... there had been moments last night when Ianto had genuinely believed he cared.

It wasn't Jack's fault he couldn't be allowed to know what Ianto had been going through... but it would feel so cold to let him think he was making Ianto feel better when he didn't know what was wrong in the first place.

He barely registered the soft murmur in his ear, knew Hart was saying something, but for a moment the words just didn't sink in.

Not until he said, "-but someone went and broke time."

_That_ managed to snap him out of the happy daze he had been in a moment ago. He knew what it felt like to be in danger of fading out due to time changing and affecting your past while you were technically _in_ it. It was terrifying.

"Sorry, what were you just saying?" Ianto asked, "I really wasn't listening until I heard the words 'broke time'."

Hart chuckled, and kissed his jaw again, "Good to know I haven't lost my touch. Haven't had much of a challenge with lovers while I've been stuck in this pathetic decade."

"So who did what to time, exactly?" Ianto asked, turning to face him, and suddenly feeling quite impatient.

"Someone changed history." Hart said simply, before elaborating, "There are a lot of different ways to do that, and you'll be happy to know this one's reversible... otherwise Jack and I wouldn't be here anymore. Unfortunately, it _has_ affected our home time enough that my wrist strap is completely useless. We can't travel to any other time until whatever we fucked up here gets fixed... and to be fair, I _know_ the history of this time quite well. I was being very careful not to fuck it up."

"So you think we did something... Jack, Gwen, Owen, Tosh or me?"

Hart nodded slowly, "To be fair... it was probably Jack. It's always Jack."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "So what are we supposed to do about it?"

"Just because I know the original history, doesn't mean I know what you've changed. I can name some people who should already be dead, but rumour has it they aren't. I don't think that's it, though. Takes a very specific kind of person for not-dying to be the turning point, surprisingly enough.

Ianto glared.

"What?" Hart asked, feigning innocence, "The Time Agency proved at great expense; in most cases, when one person is taken out of the equation, another will step in and fulfil the same role in the grand scheme of things. Just ask the thirty-seven people we stopped rising to power in the place history currently attributes to Adolf Hitler."

Ianto shook his head, trying very hard to ignore the part about Hitler... it was almost funny in a sick and twisted way. "So you're basically saying we've screwed up." he said with a sigh, "Instead of helping we've somehow gone and made things worse?"

"Well... it's not worse yet." Hart said diplomatically, "There's still a chance to fix it. Like I said, I wouldn't be here if there wasn't."

"Right... right." Ianto looked away, frowning and trying to think what to do about this newfound information. Hart was right, it was just more shit to add to the list... very important shit, but it was all important and that was the problem. "So what do we do?" he asked reluctantly.

"For now... no idea." Hart shrugged, "But I'd kind of like if you could keep in touch. For several reasons." A hand trailed down to his waist, and made it perfectly clear that in Hart's mind saving the world came in at a very poor second to lots and lots of sex.

"Oh, I bet you'd like that." Ianto sniped, smirking in spite of himself, "Alright, how do we do that?"

"I have a magic mirror." Hart said cheerfully, "Well, a matched pair of two-way mirrors, to be exact. They're a family heirloom, and I had to modify the charms so they won't accidentally connect to their contemporary counterparts. But yeah, basically you say my name to it, and it calls me."

"Your name?"

"Well... the one you know, anyway."

Ianto snorted, "And if we need to meet again? It's not going to be every night I go out to participate in Death Eater rallies. I hope."

Hart chuckled, "The barrier spells I tried to get through at Hogwarts have one great big gaping weakness."

Ianto stared at him quizzically, "Yes?"

"Humans can't pass through. Magic can't pass through. But Animagi don't use magic to _maintain_ their form, only to change from human to animal and back again."

Ianto's mouth opened in a slight 'o' of surprise at this ludicrously simply oversight.

"Oh, I like that expression." Hart grinned. Ianto promptly glowered. "And I like your animal form, too. An albatross. Very... poetic."

Ianto frowned at that. He wasn't sure if Hart meant 'ironic' or literally a poem. He could think of precisely one poem that prominently featured an albatross.

"Can you do a partial transformation?" Hart asked, suddenly almost breathless, "Let me see your wings?"

"What's the big deal with my goddamned wings? First Jack and now you!" Ianto laughed, to hide a twisted combination of disgust and curiosity at the idea.

"What can I say? People in my century tend to think plain old humans get boring after a while? And none of the magical creatures in this decade are both suitable and interested. Most of the really good ones, like Spinxes and Tieflings are so rare I can't even find them in this country. Veela eat their mates after sex... the Hogwarts Centaurs are much more prudish than in my time... I don't like goblins, they always steal my money afterwards... I tend to avoid Dementors, although I hear with the right kind of protection, it's possible-"

"If I show you my wings will you please shut up?" Ianto asked plaintively, still laughing in spite of himself.

Hart grinned, almost ferally, "Possibly."

Ianto rolled over onto his stomach, and with a moment of concentration the wings unfurled from his back. The sleek shiny feathers felt surprisingly good against his skin as he pulled them back against himself... he had only ever done this part with his shirt on, before.

"Oh ho, yes!" Hart positively growled with approval, reaching up to run a hand down the nearest wing appreciatively.

"You do realise that doesn't feel any different to when you touch my back, right?" Ianto asked.

"It's different to me... and you're really missing out, a Veela would get turned on by this." His touch as he caressed the feathers was lighter this time, and Ianto snorted.

"Tickles." he muttered.

Hart chuckled, and moved to sit astride him again. Ianto immediately retracted his wings and turned over so he was looking up at Hart, propped up in his elbows. "No."

Hart pouted. It was incredibly unconvincing.

"You had your fun last night." and Ianto would never admit to the man's face that he had enjoyed every second of it. "If you want there to even be the slightest _chance_ of more, you're going to have to become extremely helpful, well behaved, and even polite. Are we clear?"

"Polite?" Hart protested with a whine.

"Relatively." Ianto shrugged slightly, "I'll accept you _trying_ to act like a civilised being, but you do have to at least put in some effort."

Hart sulked a bit, and slid off him, still pouting like a demonically possessed child deprived of its favourite toy.

Ianto sat up, and glanced at the window. Curtains were drawn, but they weren't exactly thick enough to block out all light. It was still dark outside, "You said it was morning?"

"It's five AM." Hart answered flatly, "You need time to shower before you go back to Hogwarts, and I had kind of hoped for a quickie before that."

"Shower?" Ianto asked curiously. He would, of course, want to wash the smell of his arch nemesis off him... but he was surprised Hart had thought of that.

"Jack will be able to tell you had sex... but if you bathe, at least he won't know who with."

Damnit. He had forgotten about that.

"Hate to disappoint you." he said with deepest sarcasm, as he climbed out of bed, "But the sooner I get back, the less likely I am to get another detention."

x x x

Jack had easily guessed from the fact Pansy Parkinson had disappeared at about the same time, that Ianto had gone to a Death Eater meeting the previous night. He hadn't expected him to take so long to return, however, and by daybreak he had skipped well past 'a bit worried' and gone directly to 'near blind panic'.

Oh, of course he didn't let it show. He was surrounded by Slytherins, after all. But he was still eternally grateful to see Ianto enter the great hall for breakfast.

Except... something looked different about him.

It wasn't easy to tell... his sense of smell was useless, considering he was halfway across a crowded hall packed with hormonal teenagers- and some of the sixth year Slytherins seemed to have had a lot of fun last night, _that_ he could smell- but it _looked_ like Ianto had had sex. And much as Jack tried not to think about it, the quiet way he kept his head down and pretended he was just fine could either be because the Hufflepuffs were shunning him again... or something much worse.

"I don't know why you stick up for him, after he betrayed us like that." Tracey Davis whispered in his ear. As one of the few Slytherin D.A. members, she seemed to feel just as betrayed as if she had been close friends with Ianto as well, before the whole Death Eater thing.

"He's a Hufflepuff." Jack said flatly, but with determination, "They don't do betrayal. Although it's perfectly possible for them to have never chosen to be loyal to you in the first place. I know he's still loyal to me."

Tracey snorted derisively.

Jack failed to eat any breakfast, spending his entire time watching Ianto and pointedly ignoring the almost pitying look the seventh year girls (or, at least, the sane ones who weren't Pansy) were giving him.

Finally, Ianto finished eating and left the table. He glanced directly at Jack just before he left the hall, and Jack took this as an invitation to follow him. He would have followed, anyway, but now Ianto had directly requested he do so.

He followed Ianto easily enough- knew full well that Ianto was perfectly capable of losing a tail when he tried, and he most certainly was _not_ trying now- and soon found himself on the seventh floor right outside the Room of Requirement. This far from anyone else, and this close to Ianto, he could _definitely _ smell it. His earlier suspicion was confirmed... and if anything, the look Ianto shot him before entering the room made it clear he expected Jack to know.

Once Jack followed him into their familiar version of the Room of Requirement, and the door closed behind him, Ianto turned to face him, and the first words out of his mouth were, "I'm sorry."

Jack laughed, "What for?"

"I wanted it to be you. It's been over four years, and I kept putting you off, then when I finally let it happen, it wasn't you." He was blatantly upset and ashamed at this. Jack wasn't sure how to interpret Ianto's behaviour, but it could either mean his twenty-first century morals were kicking him in the head for 'cheating' on Jack... or else...

"Who was it?" Jack asked warily.

Ianto shook his head, "That's not important. The point is it should have been you."

"Ianto... look at me." Jack said gently. Ianto obeyed, "I've told you before, I don't do jealousy the way you think of it. I don't mind that you slept with someone else. What matters to me is that you still want me as well. And... more importantly." he stepped closer as he spoke gently, "Ianto... did you have fun?"

Ianto was visibly startled by that question. Clearly he hadn't considered it, but he did then immediately read the undertone in Jack's words. He wasn't just asking if Ianto had enjoyed fucking someone else... he was asking if Ianto had even been willing in the first place.

"Yes!" he said a bit too quickly, but then he blushed quite blatantly, "Sorry, yes, I... I mean..." The visible conflict between Ianto's obvious guilt at what he perceived as betraying Jack, and his desire to assure Jack that he hadn't been harmed in any way made him stumble over his words, before finally asking, "Why would you even ask that?"

Jack briefly considered telling him the truth... but there were risks attached to repeated and persistent use of memory charms, so he just shook his head, "You seemed so horrified. I wasn't sure if it was at yourself or the other party involved." he placed a hand lightly on each of Ianto's shoulders, and looked him right in the eyes, "As long as you're okay I really don't mind. Shame you won't tell me who, I could suggest a threesome, but-"

"Definitely not!" Ianto spluttered, "I- I mean, you wouldn't-" Ianto shook his head and failed to finish that sentence. Jack had a good guess what he had started to say though.

"Ianto Jones, how dare you suggest I wouldn't find someone you liked sexually attractive!"

Ianto laughed, "Yes, unfortunately I do remember the Boggart." he said with a slight wince. "That's really not what I meant."

This made Jack believe it probably _was_ a Death Eater. Ianto had clearly bathed before returning for breakfast, because Jack couldn't smell the other person, only Ianto's own hormones. He honestly couldn't even tell if the other person was male or female. And the Death Eaters had all kinds of forms of magical coercion. Just because they liked threats and violence didn't mean that's the only thing they could use.

Jack shook his head, "All I care about is that you're happy." he tried not to make it sound too much like a question, but wasn't quite sure it worked out that way.

"I'd be happier with you. I mean, you asked if I enjoyed it? Yes, I did, but... you're better by far."

Jack grinned at that. Some of his fears were allayed by the tone Ianto used. He seemed amused at the other person's expense, more than anything else. "I'd be happy to prove that for you right now, if you like." Jack said with a bright grin. It was a Saturday, so they wouldn't be missing any classes, and if they wanted they could still use the Time Turner so nobody would wonder where they were all that time.

Okay, maybe Jack was getting a bit _too _ comfortable with using the Time Turner for every little thing. Maybe the Doctor was right that he shouldn't be allowed a time travel device... he really was going to spend half his time at Hogwarts in two places at once, at this rate.

Not that acknowledging that fact was going to stop him.

Ianto kissed him lightly on the lips and said softly, "Maybe later. I didn't get much sleep last night." Jack couldn't help but smile at that thought. The way Ianto had said it made it clear he'd had fun... and here he was now only interested in Jack.

He could wait as long as Ianto needed him to, but he silently vowed that nobody else was going to get between them again if he could help it.

x x x

It was about a week ago that Harry had told Sirius the details of his brother Regulus' plot to defy Voldemort. It had taken that long for Sirius to come back from whatever important mission he had been on for the Order. He hadn't mentioned exactly what the valuable item was, just given a physical description and explained that it was extremely important that they find and destroy it.

Since then, Sirius had overturned the entire house, looking for a place Regulus might have hidden it. He had even gone and looked up all of his little brother's old haunts, to see if it may have gotten hidden there.

Sirius slunk dejectedly into the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place, and slumped into the nearest unoccupied chair there. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy- though mostly Lucius really- turned their noses up at his behaviour. "I can't find it." he announced, "I can't think where else he could have put it. Maybe he managed to destroy it after all?"

Harry shook his head, "Maybe is not good enough. We have to be sure."

"You keep saying this is important, but you won't tell us what it is." Draco pointed out coldly, "There are spells to track most kinds of dark magic, if you tell us what _kind_, we might know." Lucius shot a glare at his son for that, but Draco just shrugged, "You want the half-blood to kill us in our sleep, father?"

"I really hate to say this about blood relatives, but I think I'm starting to like your attitude." Sirius informed Draco.

"Can't you just scan for generally dark magic, then?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Lucius sneered at her, "There is no such thing as 'general dark magic'. What is today referred to as 'dark magic' covers a wide range of charms, transfigurations, potions and curses of varying styles and designs, all of which were once considered perfectly acceptable at some point in history."

"Even those that should never have been generally accepted." Narcissa agreed softly.

"I think this one is the exception to that rule, Mr Malfoy." Harry said coldly.

That did seem to startle every one of the purebloods in the room. Except Ron, who already knew the details.

"Do you have any idea how rare that kind of thing is?" Sirius asked, "I mean, I hate to admit it, but Malfoy's right. All the Dark Arts used to be common practice at one point or another in the past. Even the Unforgivables had their uses, before society evolved some common decency."

"And you still haven't told us the _type_ of magic involved. It really would help us narrow it down." Lucius said coldly.

"Death and binding." Hermione said softly, "Stronger than Inferi, premeditated and self-inflicted."

"I've never heard of anything like that." Narcissa said quietly, glancing warily at her husband as she added, "And I have studied binding spells in great detail."

Harry jumped when Lucius drew his wand. Sirius had his own wand drawn an instant later, but all Lucius did was cast a modified point-me spell. "There are a lot of death spells in this house. I do believe that at least half of them are the house elf heads mounted on the walls." he sneered in evident disgust at the Black family tradition of keeping mementos of such unworthy creatures... or that was the impression this specific brand of sneer gave Sirius, anyway, "There are also several binding spells, but none combined with the death magic." Lucius looked across the table at Sirius, "I seem to have discovered the secret to your mother's portrait, by the way."

"Binding spell?" Sirius asked with surprise, "I thought it was a permanent sticking charm?"

"If it had been that, I could have taken her down by now." Narcissa snorted, "Even though she seems to behave herself for me, I cannot abide the screeches with these three pass through the hall." She waved her hand vaguely in Harry, Ron and Hermione's direction.

Lucius shook his head, "I can't detect anything that would be as you described, Miss Granger." he sneered at her name, but at least he was making an effort to cooperate. A moment's hesitation, and then, "I can, however, detect a blank spot in a house otherwise filled with this kind of magic. Even the walls are drenched in the echoes of death magic..." he looked across the table at Sirius and Harry, "But not this one point."

"Where is it?" Harry asked, standing up immediately, urgent and alert.

"In the cupboard under the stairs."

Sirius turned and all but roared, "Kreacher!"

x x x


	109. What The House Elf Saw

x x x

**Chapter 109: What The House Elf Saw**

x x x

With the echoing sound of a whip cracking in the air, Kreacher appeared in the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

He was evidently extremely displeased to be there, and glowered hatefully and resentfully up at Sirius. "Master." Kreacher bowed in spite of his disgust.

"Can we please make it change the title it calls you?" Draco asked hopefully, "I keep expecting someone to get hexed when I hear that word."

Harry gave him a confused stare.

"You've never said that word in Jack's presence, have you?" Draco replied, smirking faintly. Harry shook his head and Draco deigned to explain vaguely, with a shrug, "It's hazardous to your health."

"I have heard Jack _use_ that word before..." Harry muttered thoughtfully. He had implied the name was attached to someone truly terrifying. At the time Harry had been naive enough to think it was Voldemort, but he wasn't so sure about that anymore.

"Kreacher." Sirius repeated, a bit more steady rather than the bellowing yell of a moment earlier, "My brother had a locket, stolen from the Dark Lord. Where is it?"

Kreacher promptly proceeded to bash his head against a wall.

"I think..." Draco said slowly, "You've just ordered him to disobey someone else in the family."

Hermione blinked and stared at him, "You mean he's forced to punish himself because two different people he's _bound to obey_-" she snarled with revulsion, "-have given him conflicting instructions? You see, this is why I hate that they're enslaved. If they want to serve, all well and good, that should be their choice... but this kind of binding magic just hurts them in the long run."

She was surprised to see that of all the people in the room, it was _Narcissa_ who seemed to understand her opinion, and show empathy in her facial expression. Even Harry was too distracted by the possibility of finding out about the Horcrux.

"Kreacher, stop!" Sirius ordered, and Kreacher froze, "You can't tell me?" Kreacher shook his head incredibly fast, and Sirius sighed with exasperation, "Bloody figures!"

"Kreacher was ordered not to tell anyone in the family of such things!" Kreacher whimpered, before hitting his head again for speaking even that much.

Sirius's eyes lit up, "Then tell Harry. He's not family." Kreacher hesitated, evidently trying to find a loophole and by the look on his face he was failing, "That's an order." Sirius snapped.

Kreacher's old and wrinkled face pulled into a sneer of absolute disgust, but he turned to Harry nonetheless. Lowering his voice, even as Sirius backed off and ushered the Malfoys out of hearing range. "Kreacher is being forced to speak to these blood traitors and Mudbloods. If my Mistress only knew... so ashamed-"

"I can hear you!" Narcissa's sing-song rebuke caused the elf to shut up quite promptly. Maybe he still had some respect for Narcissa, as he seemed outright ashamed of being told off by her. She shot a wan smile at Harry before following the rest of her family out of the kitchen and closing the door firmly behind her.

Hermione cast a privacy spell around the three of them and the elf. Kreacher shot her a filthy look. "Neither Ron nor I are part of the family you were forbidden to tell." she said, folding her arms and staring down at the elf coolly, "And Harry will just tell us everything the second he hears it, anyway. Won't you, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

Kreacher sulked and seemed to be trying to find a loophole in his orders. Eventually resigning himself to the fact there was no such loophole, and muttering scathing remarks about bloodlines, he turned to look up at Harry, somehow both obedient and defiant at once, "What is it Master is ordering Kreacher to tell the half-blood Potter?"

"Regulus Black's locket." Harry prompted, "Where is it?"

"Kreacher has it." came the resentful and positively terrified answer. The elf wasn't just afraid... he had started shaking almost violently, and looked like he was going to start punishing himself any second.

"What's wrong, Kreacher?" Hermione asked.

The elf glowered at her and spat a few choice words about Mudbloods.

"What's wrong?" Harry repeated, realising perfectly well that Kreacher had been ordered to answer his questions, not Hermione's.

"The locket, Master Regulus's locket." Kreacher was practically panting now, hyperventilating from fear, "Kreacher must not fail his mission. Kreacher must not let the locket fall into the wrong hands. Kreacher must destroy it!"

"Well that's good." Ron announced bluntly.

Kreacher peered at him sceptically, seeming now to hold his breath.

"If this locket is what we think it is." Harry explained to the elf, "We want to destroy it as well. Sirius, Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, they're all part of what we're trying to do, and destroying the locket is _very_ important to all of us. I can understand that you were ordered not to tell them, but you need to understand that we all want to achieve the same goal as Regulus."

Kreacher took a deep shuddering breath, and sagged to the floor in relief, "The blood traitors and the Malfoys all wish to destroy the locket?"

"That's right." Harry nodded.

"This is something far more important than blood status." Hermione explained, "We all need it to be destroyed. Your master Regulus was as pure as they come, by all accounts, and so are the Malfoys. They've accepted even my help to stop the terrible things that locket is a part of."

"It's what Regulus wanted." Harry insisted, before the elf could retort to Hermione's words, "Tell us everything you can."

Kreacher slowly nodded, "Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord when he was sixteen years old. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve. And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said he said... he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."

Kreacher was clearly shaken by the memories he was about to explain

"Voldemort needed an elf?" Harry asked, surprised. He had come to the conclusion some time ago that elves fell into a category well below Muggles on Voldemort's radar. Not even worthy of notice.

"Oh yes," Kreacher whispered, nodding his head shakily, "And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honour, said Master Regulus, an honour for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do... and then to c-come home."

Now he was crying. It was very disconcerting to see this horrid little beast so emotional and upset.

"So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake. There was a boat. There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it."

Harry backed off a step, horrified at this revelation. He had learned exactly what the potion was meant to do, the night Dumbledore died, and to think this elf had lived with the side-effects for so long. He couldn't begin to imagine it.

"Kreacher drank, and as he drank he saw terrible thing... Kreacher's insides burned. Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed. He made Kreacher drink all the potion... he dropped a locket into the empty basin... he filled it with more potion. And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island."

"What, he just left you there?" Ron asked, just as horrified as Harry felt, though neither of them knew the full effects of the poison. Harry hadn't felt the need to share that detail with them, as it wasn't really relevant at all.

Kreacher didn't even seem to have heard him. "Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake... and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface."

"How did you get away?" Harry asked softly.

Kreacher slowly looked up at him, and answered so simply, "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back."

"I know... but how did you escape the Inferi?"

Kreacher just stared at him, not comprehending the meaning of this question. He simply repeated, "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back."

"I know, but-"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Harry?" Ron interrupted, in the tone of talking-to-stupid people best held over for Crabbe and Goyle, "He Disapparated!"

"But... you couldn't Apparate in and out of that cave." Harry insisted, "Otherwise Dumbledore-"

"Elf magic isn't like wizard's magic, is it?" Ron retorted, "I mean, they can Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can't."

Harry stared at Ron in shock, then slowly turned to stare at Kreacher. A smile slowly tugged at his lips, turning into a bright grin in an instant, "Oh, Voldemort's an idiot!" he laughed, "Of course, Ron, you're right. That's brilliant!"

Ron smiled sheepishly, but the smiles were wiped from both of their faces as Kreacher spoke once more, slowly, almost emotionless, "The house-elf's highest law is his Master's bidding. Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home."

"So what happened when you got back?" Harry prompted, quite certain that there was still more of this story to be told, "What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?"

Kreacher hiccupped, and continued to explain, "Master Regulus was very worried, very worried. Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then... it was a little while later... Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell... and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord."

Harry looked up at Hermione and Ron. Both were staring solemnly at the elf. Listening with horror and anticipating the worst. Except what they heard wasn't quite what they seemed to expect.

"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had. And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets." Kreacher was positively weeping now. Every few words a choked sob, "And he ordered... Kreacher to leave... without him. And he told Kreacher... to go home... and never to tell my Mistress... what he had done... but to destroy... the first locket. And he drank... all the potion... and Kreacher swapped the lockets... and watched... as Master Regulus... was dragged beneath the water... and..."

Hermione had started crying, silent tears running down her cheeks at the heart wrenching tale. Ron was holding her shoulders reassuringly, now. Harry blinked a couple of times to hide his own emotions at this revelation.

"Kreacher tried to destroy the locket. Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it. Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work. So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open. Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave."

Harry slowly sat down in the nearest chair, with a sigh, "I don't understand you, Kreacher. Voldemort tried to kill you, Regulus died to bring Voldemort down, but you were still happy to betray Sirius to Voldemort? You were happy to go to Bellatrix, and pass information to Voldemort through her."

"Harry, Kreacher doesn't think like that." Hermione insisted, rubbing at her eyes to wipe away the tears, "He's a slave. House-elves are used to bad, even brutal treatment. What Voldemort did to Kreacher wasn't that far out of the common way. What do wizard wars mean to an elf like Kreacher? He's loyal to people who are kind to him, and Mrs Black must have been, and Regulus certainly was, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs."

Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Hermione spoke right on over him.

"I know what you're going to say, that Regulus changed his mind... but he doesn't seem to have explained that to Kreacher, does he? And I think I know why. Kreacher and Regulus's family were all safest if they kept to the old pure-blood line. Regulus was trying to protect them all."

Harry stared at the weeping elf, thinking about this carefully. Sure enough, her words brought out some pretty strong emotions of his own. He himself had outright hated Slytherin house for years, because the first few people who had been kind to him had told him that's the house for evil people.

But then one of them was kind to him, too, and his whole perspective on the wizarding world had shifted because of it.

"Kreacher." Harry said gently. The elf slowly turned to stare up at him, "Like I said, we want to help you destroy the locket. We want to finish the work Master Regulus started, to ensure that he didn't die in vain." Harry said, careful to be as respectful as he could about the subject, "I just need you to get it for me. Okay?"

Kreacher was blatantly sceptical, but eventually he nodded slowly, and with a snap he disappeared. A second later and another snapping noise, and he returned, clutching the locket in both hands.

Harry felt an itching sensation in his scar just looking at the thing. Yes, it was definitely one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.

"How, exactly, do we destroy it, anyway?" Ron asked sceptically, "I mean-" he gave a wary look at the elf, "-of course we want to, it's just elves do have a lot of powerful magic, if he couldn't do it, how are we supposed to?"

"Jack told me there's only five known ways to destroy it." Harry looked up at the two of them, then down at Kreacher, "Basilisk venom, Nundu Blood, Fiendfyre, Avada Kedavra, or a Dementor's Kiss. Although he then went on to tell me about an episode of some TV show, where the hero killed an ancient demon that 'no weapon forged by man' could kill, with a rocket launcher, because they hadn't been invented when that prophecy was made... so..." he shrugged vaguely.

Hermione snorted with laughter. Ron stared blankly, "A wocket launcher?"

"A _rocket_ launcher." Hermione corrected, "It's a very large Muggle weapon, which blows things up with the force of at least ten Reductos, depending on the size and calibre."

Kreacher stared, forlorn, "Kreacher cannot use those magics. And Kreacher cannot control those beasts. Kreacher has failed."

"No." Harry said quickly, "You brought it to us, as we'll find a way to destroy it. That means you've done what you were ordered to do. Ensuring it gets destroyed. That's what Master Regulus wanted, right?"

Kreacher had just been about to hit himself over the head with a frying pan, but stopped just at the last moment, "Kreacher... did." he said with wonderment, a smile crossing his ancient and wrinkled face, "Kreacher will see it destroyed, even if Kreacher is not the one to do so, yes?"

Harry smiled, and nodded to the elf, "Yes. I promise."

x x x

That Monday, in London, was Gwen's first day at Torchwood One.

She hadn't even been given an interview, simply told that she was exactly what they were looking for and practically ordered to show up, with the less than subtle hint of a threat that if she refused their best operatives would kidnap her and _make_ work for them.

Apparently they had ways. She wouldn't doubt it for a second.

Still, she was impressed at Jack's ability to forge all the right documentation for her. Tosh had, obviously, been the one to plant said documentation in all the right places, but Jack was the one who had written a profile for Gwen's fictional character that was so good they had felt the need to threaten her in order to get her to work for them. She was a bit uncomfortable with the thoughts that sprang to mind of what Jack must have put on her fictional C.V.

"Welcome to Torchwood One." an entirely too cheerful woman said, beckoning Gwen to follow her. Gwen kept pace with the woman, listening intently as she walked, "My name is Yvonne, I'm head of personnel, so you'll be seeing quite a bit of me during your first week, as you get settled in."

Gwen held back the instinct to scowl. She recognised this woman from the files at Torchwood Three. She had been responsible, indirectly, for the fall of Torchwood One... although that was eight years and apparently several promotions away.

Yvonne led her on into a large warehouse filled with alien tech, all shiny and well cared for, people in white coats milling around in-between suspiciously military-looking men in black body armour. This facility was way better organised than what Gwen was used to... but it felt so cold and clinical. Impersonal and somehow inhuman.

"We're very people-oriented, here." Yvonne explained cheerfully, "We may work with extra-terrestrial technology beyond anything you could have imagined before, but our people are our greatest resource. Without our research teams, all this would be a pile of space junk-" she waved dismissively at one of the shinier and more deadly looking devices, as they walked past it, "And without our field operatives and administrative staff, half of it would be in the hands of UNIT." She turned to face Gwen with a frown, "They're the international alien-hunters. Think they're better than us. All morals and self-righteousness. We use our resources for the advancement and greater good of the British Empire. UNIT would just catalogue it and lock it in a vault."

"Just the British Empire? Not the world?" Gwen asked.

"Eventually... they'll be the same thing." Yvonne answered, oh so matter-of-fact.

Yeah, love... and I'd like to be there to watch when you try telling the Americans that. Gwen smiled at that thought, and Yvonne clearly misinterpreted it as agreement with her own sentiment.

"Good to see we're on the same page, then." Yvonne said brightly, leading her on through to a more calm and sedate looking part of the building. It was just clean walls and- dear god, no- cubicles. "This is our main admin team." Yvonne explained, "But with your unique resume, you'll be joining research on level ten. If you perform well, then you'll work your way up from there. Level one is so classified even I don't get to see it. Yet."

Gwen was immensely relieved that her infiltration and espionage wouldn't involve a cubicle. She had worked in an office cubicle for a few months, before joining the police, and it had been like hell to her. She needed a job where she could _move_ and _do things_. Not sit on her arse all day, dealing with paperwork and idiots on phones.

On the other hand, research sounded ominous, and she worried what kind of wild and wondrous things Jack had put on her resume to earn her a place there. She began to wish- not for the first time- that she had demanded to see it before he had mailed it in here.

As she had been fretting about it, Yvonne had led her down yet another entirely too clean corridor, and now she turned and gestured to a door. Thankfully all the doors and corridors were numbered and labelled, so she hoped that would help her find her way back again. "This is where you'll be working. Time to meet your new co-workers."

x x x


	110. You Give Love A Bad Name

x x x

**Chapter 110: You Give Love A Bad Name**

x x x

"The killing curse requires a cold-blooded hatred to cast." Lucius Malfoy explained coolly, "A genuine sense of purest loathing and bloody rage combined. I have never used it, because I do not _hate_, not even Muggles. I simply do not want them around me. There is a world of difference."

Draco nodded in agreement, "You all heard fake-Moody in our Defence lessons. Worst any of us could likely do is give someone a bloody nose. Most wizards simply can't do it. Like some people just plain don't have the emotional capacity to cast a Patronus."

Hermione nodded slowly, frowning, "What about Fiendfyre? It's dangerous, but a well-trained wizard-"

"It is too dangerous for most to even attempt to learn, as the training is- quite literally- by fire." Lucius pointed out coldly, "I have never attempted it, nor would I permit Draco to do so."

Draco gave him a very sceptical look that seemed to be saying, 'Permission? You are kidding, right?' Lucius pointedly ignored this look, and Draco shrugged, "He's right, most of us know better than to use indiscriminate and unwieldy magic like that."

Hermione's frown deepened, "That leaves Basilisks, Nundu, and Dementors."

"Not a pleasant bunch, are they?" Ron sniped.

"Hang on." Harry said thoughtfully, "Jack said he destroyed the Diadem."

They all looked at each other warily for a moment, "How?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Chamber of Secrets?" Ron suggested, "Him and his friends have been using it as a base for ages, since Harry went and let them in. They've got a great big dead Basilisk just sitting there."

"But how do we contact him?" Hermione insisted, "He's at Hogwarts."

"He's also in Cardiff." Harry pointed out, suddenly grinning as an idea formed.

x x x

For a building that was warded with all kinds of the most ancient and powerful magics, and heightened wartime security, sneaking in and out of Hogwarts really was a piece of cake.

Jack's past self has called him on the wrist strap to say that Harry wanted to speak to him urgently.

Those all-powerful wards didn't cut through the Forbidden Forest, because all kinds of magical horrors skittered back and forth across where the invisible line would be. The safe point to Apparate away from was only a few feet into the forest at the far side of the lake. The Chamber of Secrets brought him right out to that point. Just as he had with Neville and Ginny, he was able to make it to the border without seeing any sign of the dangers of this darkened forest.

He Apparated- successfully, for the first time- from there to the flat in Cardiff in an instant. Then he took the highly illegal Floo connection there (there hadn't even been a fireplace in that flat until Hestia Jones and Tosh had put their heads together over the last month) to Grimmauld Place. You couldn't even say the name of the place you were trying to go if you weren't not only an approved member of the D.A. but an active Secret Keeper since Dumbledore's death. It was the perfect security system.

Jack fell out of the fireplace and landed neatly on his feet, which always seemed to annoy Harry. He briefly scanned the room, and grinned brightly at the assembled witches and wizards, "You called, Harry?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Lucius, Narcissa and Sirius. Every one of them had risen from their seats around the kitchen table, and where standing with their wands drawn as if expecting a fight. Then they'd realised who he was and relaxed. Mostly. Lucius was still glaring a bit.

"Well that was quick." Ron muttered.

"Not many people say that about me." Jack said cheerfully. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes, Sirius laughed and Draco snorted. Ron pulled a face in disgust, while Narcissa remained impassive. Lucius just glared more. "So, what's so important that you summoned me in the middle of a school year? You know how security is at Hogwarts, right? They tripled it."

Ron snorted, and Hermione looked very much like she wanted to ask for details. Jack would willingly tell her all he knew about it, too, but Harry spoke first, "You told me you destroyed the Diadem?" he asked bluntly, and straight to the point.

"Yeah." Jack said, with a nod and a wary glance at the Malfoys.

"How?" Harry asked.

"Killing curse."

"Why am I not surprised?" Draco asked with a dramatic sigh, "He's one of the good guys, hearing something like this is meant to be surprising."

Jack smirked darkly at Draco, "I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I'm one of them." Jack quoted... from a television series that he was pretty sure nobody had even considered making yet.

"Yeah. We do get that." Ron sniped, trying not to smile in spite of himself.

"So... can you do the same for this?" Harry asked, holding up a heavy looking locket, inscribed with an ornate serpentine '_S_', for Jack to see.

Jack hesitated, "I need to be in the- well, the entirely wrong frame of mind to do it. I mean, some people can't turn the homicidal rage off-" he glanced at Draco, "Like your aunt. Did I mention she's hot by the way?"

"I keep asking you not to." Draco sulked.

Jack shrugged and continued his explanation, "In theory, once you've got that kind of hate in you, it should be possible to conjure it up by the same process as a Patronus, just with the opposite emotion... but it's really not that easy. I-"

"I can help." Jack spun around to see Ianto standing in the doorway behind him. None of the others seemed to have noticed him standing there until he spoke, either.

"How did you get here?" Jack asked with a frown, "You're not one of the Secret Keepers for this place."

"I flew." Ianto said with a shrug, "I knew the way, even if I couldn't say it... and I Portkeyed right into London, while I'm pretty sure you went through Cardiff."

Jack smirked faintly, "Yeah, so what makes you think anything you can do would upset me that much?" Jack challenged, "I already know you're a Death Eater, you asked me to Obliviate you so you could lie to him convincingly."

Ianto's eyes widened, and after a couple of seconds his lip twitched with morbid irony, "That makes it worse. Just so you know."

"Makes what worse?" Jack asked warily.

"I tell you a name." Ianto said darkly, "And you will be able to cast that curse."

"Ianto, unless it was Voldemort, I think I can safely say-"

"John Hart."

That stopped him mid-sentence. John fucking Hart? He was here? In this decade? And borrowing Jack's lover without asking nicely? Jack turned around and drew his wand in one fluid motion. Harry saw the rage in his eyes and promptly dropped the locket on the table. Everyone except Ianto had the common sense to back up, even though they weren't in his line of sight, and he positively snarled, "Avada Kedavra!"

The flare of green light struck the locket with such force that it was sent flying into the far wall, and when it fell the creeping darkness from it was gone.

It was dead.

Jack turned on Ianto, now, lowering his wand only slightly, "What is he doing here?" he demanded.

"Stalking us, apparently." Ianto shrugged. His eyes showed some nervousness, but no real fear... and neither showed at all in his demeanour, "There's a lot more, but... we do have quite a keen audience." Ianto smiled coldly, "I really wasn't sure you hated him so much. I'm very glad it worked, or that would have been even more humiliating that it already feels."

"Why did you-?"

"_Not here_." Ianto insisted, stepping back and turning into his avian form. He didn't wait for Jack to try to stop him, soaring out the window and into the cool evening air.

"_Fuck_." Jack hissed, sitting down on the nearest chair.

"You know, just when I think your boyfriend can't scare me anymore... that." Draco said flatly.

Jack grinned up at him darkly, "You think he's scary? You should meet the man he just named."

"Rather not." Draco replied.

"Who's John Hart, anyway?" Ron asked tactlessly, "Your ex?"

"Yes." Jack answered, glancing around the room. Everyone looked afraid- or at least wary- of him to some degree, and he didn't like it. He was upset now, but the anger had faded almost as quickly as it came. "And he's one of two reasons I think Voldemort is unimaginative and unambitious in his evilness."

"Two reasons?" Harry asked sceptically.

"You do not want to know." Jack answered dismissively. John Hart was bad enough... thinking about the Master would make everything that much worse on top of it all.

"I second that!" Draco said quickly.

Jack sighed, feeling quite drained from the sheer amount of raw magic he had thrown into that curse. He slowly looked up at Harry and smiled morbidly, "Four down."

x x x

When Jack got back to Hogwarts, he was a bit surprised that he hadn't been missed... but resolved to use the Time Turner to make that be how nobody had noticed his absence, rather than just assuming it had been dumb luck. He would go back and make a point of being somewhere that the demonic Head Girl could see him while he was actually out helping the resistance to win the war.

But first, something far more important than that.

He went looking for Ianto.

He was a bit surprised to find that Ianto hadn't gone straight to the Room of Requirement, as he had expected, and kind of hoped. So the next logical place to check was the Slytherin first year dorms that they had effectively commandeered.

When he entered the dorm room, he found Ianto tutoring the two first years in History. The three of them were sitting in a circle, having dragged the chairs from their personal study desks into the middle of the room. The first years both seemed truly fascinated by the subject as Ianto presented it, rather than falling asleep as in Professor Binns' class. He wandered over to sit on his own bed, picking up a potions book and pretending to read as he instead listened to Ianto talking.

It was about the Grindelwald war. Something Binns never covered, as the old ghost seemed to ignore anything and everything that didn't specifically vilify goblins.

Jack had never really bothered reading up on Grindelwald, hoping against hope that he had already been to World War II often enough and wouldn't need to go back there for any reason. He had participated in six Agency missions there (four in Germany, one in England, and one in Russia), four self-cleaning cons during the blitz, met the Doctor, been sent to fight in France by Torchwood, then accidentally visited Cardiff 1941 where he met the real Captain Jack Harkness.

Come to think of it, fate seemed to like him in that era, so maybe he really should pay more attention to the subject.

"Okay, we get the tactics... but what was Grindelwald after?" Livia asked sceptically, "Doesn't sound like the kind of thing we're getting from... the current war."

"That's probably because Grindelwald didn't want power, he wanted forbidden knowledge." Ianto explained, "Hitler wanted power, and he made a good ally for a dark lord who wanted to get his hands on magical artefacts protected by the British Ministry of Magic. Department of Mysteries, to be specific."

"So... are you comparing our dark lord to the Muggle side, when you make World War Two jokes?" Tavion asked slyly.

"The Dark Lord _is_ Half-blood, and he lived through that war. He probably picked up a few pointers, yes." Ianto said with a dark smirk.

"He's half-blood?" Livia asked in surprise, "But all the purebloods are-"

"A bunch of hypocritical morons if they choose to serve him, yes." Ianto agreed.

"See, this is how you learn from history. Not goblins and... more goblins." Tavion smirked.

"To be fair, if you studied goblin law and sociology, you'd be better off than reading the history of their insurrections." Ianto pointed out, "There's a book on it in the Library. They have a whole different moral code from either us or Muggles, and every single one of their wars was triggered by some idiot not knowing the difference."

"How do you know all of this?" Tavion asked, almost awed.

"I know everything." Ianto said brightly, "Well, close enough, at least." he added at the sceptical stare he received in answer to that rather grand announcement.

"Ianto...?" Jack asked quietly. The ominous tone in his voice made it perfectly clear that he wanted to talk about what happened earlier.

Ianto gave him a baleful look, then sighed and turned back to the pair of first years, "Alright, I'm giving you both homework." Surprisingly, neither of them complained, as he told them exactly which book on goblin law he wanted them to check out of the library and have read the first three chapters of by next weekend.

In fact, Jack heard Livia cheerfully announcing how this superior knowledge would help them be better than the rest of the class, as they wandered out of the room.

Ianto looked distinctly nervous, now, as he was left alone in the room with Jack.

Jack really was still very upset about this... not because Ianto had slept with someone else, but because of who it was. Ianto really should have known better.

Jack took a deep breath and asked, "Why him?"

"Would you really have preferred if it was a Death Eater?" Ianto asked sceptically, "Because I got the impression that's what you thought two weeks ago."

Jack snorted faintly. Two weeks... two weeks during which Pansy and several former members of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, whom Pansy had seemingly enlisted to her cause, had positively stalked them. She was doing her damnedest to catch them in a compromising position, and so while it had been two weeks since Ianto had gotten past his 'we look too young' issues, nothing- absolutely nothing- had happened between them. They hadn't been given the chance to sneak off to the Room of Requirement together after that day. Separately, yes... but the damned Inquisitorial Squad had managed to keep at least one of them covered at all times.

"I wasn't sure, to be honest. It did seem the most likely possibility." Jack sighed, "And yes, I might have preferred that... depending on which one. You have no idea what that man is capable of."

"This is ridiculous! All of it!" Ianto snapped, "The lying, the double-crossing, I'm sick of it! I didn't exactly decide; '_hey, I know, why don't I go sleep with my worst enemy, that'll fix everything_'. He came on to me. But he did make me feel better, and he didn't hurt me, so I really don't know what I'm supposed to say here, Jack. I never wanted to hurt you."

"What did he really want?" Jack asked, suddenly feeling very tired, and really not wanting to fight right now.

"I got the impression sex was top of his list-"

"You don't know him." Jack interrupted harshly, "What did he _really_ want?"

Ianto hesitated, then turned to the door, "I know you two are listening!" and with that, he threw a silencing spell at the door. Jack rolled his eyes, as Ianto slowly stood and walked over to sit on the bed next to him, "He said we'd broken the timelines. That he couldn't leave this decade."

Jack frowned at this, "If that's true- and I don't believe for a moment that he just told you the truth without some ulterior motive- then it would mean we set out to accomplish something, resolved to achieve it no matter what... but haven't done it yet. If we had actually done it, he and I wouldn't be here anymore. It's like... time itself warning us not to go through with it."

"We've made a lot of plans, Jack." Ianto said warily, "How do we know which one?"

"And if we pick the wrong one... it could make everything that much worse." Jack looked at him balefully, "And this is still assuming he didn't just lie to you."

Ianto sighed, seeming incredibly tired of it all, "Are you still angry?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but it was at this point that the door burst open, and Millicent Bullstrode proceeded to rant about locking children out of their own dorm room for 'Merlin knows what'.

Jack tuned it out, while Ianto feigned apology.

Once Millicent had departed, and the two first years had returned to their seats, Ianto shrugged and excused himself with mutterings of an extra credit potions project.

"Is it just me... or do you two need some more alone time to kiss and make up?" Tavion asked slyly.

"You know too much for your age." Jack replied flatly.

"Yeah, well my sister reads Teen Witch... aloud. No matter how often I burn it." Tavion shrugged, "Sounded like he was trying very hard to apologise, is all."

It really did hurt to be told off so accurately about something like this at all... let alone by a child. He only just avoided snapping that it was none of the boy's business, but he certainly did not offer a civilised response, either. Simply shut and silenced the curtains of his bed with a wave of his wand and refused to deal with the rest of the world for the time being.

x x x

"Owen." Ianto asked. Everyone in Gryffindor tower turned in surprise to look at him. Nobody knew quite how he had gotten in, and the main door certainly hadn't opened. "I need to speak with you."

"Sure, mate. Just..." he stood up and shouted at the room as a whole, "What're you all staring at?!"

They all turned back to their work immediately, and Owen led Ianto out of the common room through the normal exit instead of whichever window he had flown in through. Bloody bird-boy needed to learn some tact... either that, or he'd been very careful not to be seen transforming, in which case he needed to realise he was making the D.A. hate him even more.

Once they were alone- in the Room of Requirement, no less, though Owen knew that Ianto was unable to remember that it was also the D.A.'s meeting room- Ianto asked him with perfect seriousness, "Is there any difference in the effect of Basilisk venom if it's ingested, rather than injected?"

Owen gaped at him, "Who're you plotting to poison now?!"

"Nobody you'd like." Ianto dismissed vaguely, "Well, is there?"

"Nope, the stuff's magically enhanced, completely immune to stomach acid, so it doesn't get broken down, just absorbed. Takes a fair bit longer to die, but other than that." Owen shrugged, "Why?"

"Can I have some?" Ianto asked innocently.

"Fuck sake, tea-boy!" Owen exclaimed, "What good can possibly come from this?"

"It's quite possible that it could save the entire wizarding world." Ianto shrugged vaguely.

"By spiking someone's food with Basilisk venom?" Owen asked, exasperated.

"Did I say some_one_?" Ianto asked, still feigning innocence, but with a fair bit less effort now.

Owen was getting a headache, "Fine, you can have one vial. I need the rest for research."

"I dread to think." Ianto deadpanned, as Owen handed him the vial of deadly venom. "Pleasure doing business with you, you complete lunatic."

"Likewise, you bloody maniac."

It didn't really help the impact of their words that both of them were positively grinning at the exchange of insults.

Owen just damned well hoped bird-boy had a genuinely good reason for wanting illegal magical venom, and that it didn't involve the falling out that rumour already had it he and Jack had the previous day.

x x x


	111. All Hallow's Eve

x x x

**Chapter 111: All Hallow's Eve**

x x x

Gwen had been working with Torchwood One for just over a week now. It wasn't as bad as she'd expected. It was cleaner and shinier than the Hub she was used to, but a lot of the principles were the same... just more people, and a lot more rules.

Being assigned to research, she got a very good look at all the new technology coming in, most of which Tosh assured her every evening after work was already archived in Torchwood Three in their own time, even if a large portion of it was lost during the battle of Canary Wharf. It wasn't a part of her job description to actively look up old archives, but she had been assigned as an assistant on three separate projects over the last week, all of which did allow her access to a limited area of these.

Today, Yvonne had cheerfully introduced her to a man named Caedius Abelsmith. He was head of a project they were calling '_Project: Rebirth_'.

"Sounds like something a comic book villain would come up with." Gwen had muttered, cheerfully joking, to her new supervisor.

"Well. Not a villain." the man had answered, smiling faintly.

Gwen rolled her eyes, "Do we have Kryptonite here, as well?" she laughed, though her insides had gone a bit cold. She remembered trying to read up on Jack's Torchwood files when she had first joined Torchwood Three, and this project had been linked but beyond her authorisation to access. Most of Jack's personnel file was classified beyond her. In fact, she was fairly certain that after he took over Torchwood Three, Jack had set them so only he could ever access them.

"No... but I think we've got a team working on it." Caedius said with an amiable smile.

"Weird name. Old family?" she asked him. It was probably tactless, but it was better than outright saying, 'hey, are you a wizard?'

He gave her a sideways look for that, "I'd say so." He eyed her up and down very slowly, "Gryffindor?"

"Aw, was I not being tactful enough?" Gwen pouted.

Caedius laughed, "I'm a Squib, by the way. And yes, you really do come off as a Gryffindor."

"Good news for you then, I'm not a Slytherin." she teased, "So what's this '_Project: Rebirth_' thing all about?"

"Reverse engineering. Kind of. I'll just need you to fetch and carry samples and artefacts from the vaults, if that's alright?"

"Can I use Accio?" She knew damned well she couldn't, but it was good to be able to talk about magic in this environment for a change.

"I wish." he laughed, "The looks on the bosses' faces would almost be worth it. But then they'd want to dissect you, Statute of Secrecy be damned."

"Yeah... fair point. You get a lot of dissectings around here?"

"Not as much as some of our bioanalysts would like. We'll just have to settle for processing DNA samples today, I'm afraid."

x x x

Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table in Grimmauld Place, reading.

It was early morning, and she was the first one awake. By their rota, it was also her turn to make breakfast, but she wasn't going to bother until she knew it wouldn't be stone cold by the time it got eaten. Nobody in the house trusted Kreacher not to poison them, not even the Malfoys... though they seemed more of the opinion that he would be doing the poisoning by accident, to the point that Draco had cheerfully suggested, "If that elf tried to poison you for your blood status, you'd probably be the only one to get edible food."

Right now, while she waited for the others, she was reading the book Professor Dumbledore had left her in his will. It was a book of fairy tales, and while she had once been told that most myths and legends and old wives tales like this had some basis in fact, right now she was having trouble seeing it.

In '_The Wizard And The Hopping Pot_', the spiteful man was _forced_ to do good deeds, rather than being shown why it was right to do so.

'_The Fountain Of Fair Fortune_' was basically a story about how great the placebo effect is. Either that, or on the brighter side, the moral that the journey is far greater than the goal, which she supposed was nice, but she still found it telling of the wizarding world that they could so readily tell a legend about a renowned 'magical' site that was in fact so powerless. Very telling.

'_The Warlock's Hairy Heart_' was downright disgusting. Probably a parable about how it was a bad idea to cut yourself off from your emotions, but that didn't stop her from feeling about ready to vomit as she read the ending.

'_Babbitty Rabbitty And Her Cackling Stump_' was downright bizarre, and Hermione decided right there that these tales were probably why wizard children grew up to be such unusual people. Because they heard this kind of story, and thought it held an ounce of sense.

When she got to '_The Tale Of The Three Brothers_', she noticed a hand-drawn mark on the page. A symbol, which looked like an equilateral triangle with a circle in it and a vertical line down through it.

She tried a Revelio charm, but it showed her nothing new, and she supposed that would also have been the Ministry's first reaction to getting their hands on Dumbledore's possessions, as well. She then went and found her Ancient Runes book and went looking for it there.

It was a couple of hours later, when she was just about ready to declare the symbol not a rune, when Narcissa Malfoy arrived in the kitchen. It was still before midday, so the men of the house would still be dead to the world, no doubt. Hermione sighed and closed her Runes book, scowling at the symbol in the story book intently.

"Anything of interest?" Narcissa asked, nodding to the book as she sat down opposite Hermione.

"I think this is important, I'm just not sure how. I've just checked, and I'm sure it's not a rune." she said, indicating the symbol.

Narcissa frowned, "I have seen it somewhere before, but I have no idea as to its meaning. Perhaps it marks the place?" she added, indicating the title of the next story Hermione had yet to read.

"Have you heard this one?" she asked, knowing full well that as Narcissa Malfoy had been raised a pureblood, the odds were greatly in favour of it.

"Yes, I have. It was one of my favourites. Quite the moral, when you think of it."

Hermione began was sceptical, given the morals of the previous stories, but began to read all the same.

_'There were once three brothers who were traveling along a _  
><em>lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers <em>  
><em>reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous <em>  
><em>to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the <em>  
><em>magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made <em>  
><em>a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were <em>  
><em>halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a <em>  
><em>hooded figure.<em>

_And Death spoke to them._

_He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, _  
><em>for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was <em>  
><em>cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon <em>  
><em>their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having <em>  
><em>been clever enough to evade him.<em>

_So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a _  
><em>wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must <em>  
><em>always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who <em>  
><em>had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the <em>  
><em>banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung <em>  
><em>there, and gave it to the oldest brother.<em>

_Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that _  
><em>he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the <em>  
><em>power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone <em>  
><em>from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told <em>  
><em>him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.<em>

_And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he _  
><em>would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the <em>  
><em>wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked <em>  
><em>for something that would enable him to go forth from that place <em>  
><em>without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, <em>  
><em>handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.<em>

_Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue _  
><em>on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure <em>  
><em>they had had, and admiring Death's gifts.<em>

_In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination._

_The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a _  
><em>distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a <em>  
><em>quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could <em>  
><em>not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead <em>  
><em>upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he <em>  
><em>boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death <em>  
><em>himself, and of how it made him invincible.<em>

_That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as _  
><em>he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, <em>  
><em>for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat.<em>

_And so Death took the first brother for his own._

_Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he _  
><em>lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to <em>  
><em>recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement <em>  
><em>and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, <em>  
><em>before her untimely death, appeared at once before him.<em>

_Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though _  
><em>she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong <em>  
><em>there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with <em>  
><em>hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her.<em>

_And so Death took the second brother for his own._

_But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he _  
><em>was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a <em>  
><em>great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of <em>  
><em>Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as <em>  
><em>an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they <em>  
><em>departed this life.'<em>

"I see what you mean." she said, when she was done reading it, "The first brother sought power, and he died powerless in his sleep. The second tried to break the laws of magic itself, and was tortured for it. The third lived a good and quiet life, and in the end accepted death instead of trying to hide from it forever."

Then a voice from the doorway startled her, "There are rumours, if you believe a word Lovegood says, that those three mythical objects are real and her daddy goes looking for them when he's not out hunting imaginary creatures." Draco was standing there, looking somewhat bored, "Oh, and I put something the Weasley twins made in Potter's room. I think you want to make breakfast now, before the screaming starts. I'll even help."

Hermione rolled her eyes laughing, "You get to do the dishes, Malfoy."

He pulled a disgusted face, but didn't argue.

Ten minutes later, Harry and Ron had joined them, looking surprisingly none the worse for wear. Apparently the _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes _ product had just made a _lot_ of noise in a contained space, so only Harry and Ron had been disturbed by it. They were all eating breakfast while Hermione and Ron argued over each other to paraphrase '_The Tale Of The Three Brothers_' for Harry's benefit. Apparently Ron's mother had embellished and edited it in the retelling.

Draco took entirely too much pleasure in pointing out where Ron got it wrong, though he never directly admitted to agreeing with Hermione... even when he effectively was.

Eventually, Harry got the gist of it, and was trying not to laugh, "'Death' had an invisibility cloak?" he snorted.

"It's a fairy tale." Hermione chided, but he didn't stop laughing anyway.

"And anyway, I asked the same question." Draco put in, "The excuse is that Death's version is just... _better_. Like it hides you from Death himself, not just people with eyes."

"You make it sound like Death is a Dementor." Ron snorted.

"Or a Nazgul." Hermione giggled. Everyone stared. "Blame Jack!"

"Words cannot describe how much I do not want to know." Draco retorted flatly.

Hermione sniffed indignantly. That was it, she was going to go to a Muggle bookstore and getting the lot of them a copy of _Lord of the Rings_. And it was all Jack's fault.

"Normal invisibility cloaks are either regular cloaks with spells on that need to be renewed and are never entirely fool-proof, or they're made from Demiguise hair, like the one Moody has, and even those fade after a decade or two." Sirius explained, sauntering into the room, "Also, Nazgul... funny."

"You've read it?" Hermione asked with surprise.

"Yep." Sirius shrugged, "Blame Lily. Come to think of it, I never once saw your dad re-enchant his cloak, Harry. Do you mind if I take a look at it, just... out of curiosity?"

"Good thing your Animagus isn't a cat, isn't it?" Draco sniped.

"Jack's would be." Hermione muttered.

Draco snorted, "I expected a dog, like him." he said, indicating Sirius, "Humping the furniture, and all."

"Hey!" Sirius protested, sulking a bit, "I do not hump the furniture!"

x x x

The principle of the matter was sound. Completely airtight, really.

It would all look like Peeves' fault, and nobody knew how to exorcise him, so he was completely safe from the Death Eaters.

Owen had arranged for Jack to sic the Baron on Peeves if he told on any of them. The threat of that alone made him very compliant to their scheme... which he admitted freely he would have enjoyed anyway. Owen also bribed Peeves with dungbombs and _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes _ products, many of which Peeves was happy to use as part of the plan.

The plan being to wreak havoc upon the school on Hallowe'en night. Partly on moral principle, but mostly because the totalitarian psychopaths had gone and cancelled the traditional candy-coated feast.

Oh, of course Owen had gone and smuggled in enough candy to last a lifetime or two, to Gryffindor tower. But again, principle of the matter.

It wasn't a violent or targeted attack, it was just generalised chaos. Just Peeves setting off streamers, confetti, glitter bombs (Esme Diggory tried to hex him when one hit her in the face), and exploding a couple of pinatas over each house table. None for the teachers, though.

Then he cackled, at Owen's express instructions, "Stoke me a clipper, I'll be back for Christmas!" and vanished in a puff of smoke.

It had been fun until the 'teachers' (read Carrows) started hexing anyone who ate the candy.

Peeves promptly reappeared and dumped the contents of a barrel (which bore the label; 'Hippogriff dung') over both of the offending authority figures.

If anyone else had done it, they'd be dead... but, well, Peeves already was.

x x x

Jack sat in the Slytherin common room, with the Tarot cards Albus Dumbledore had left to him in his will. He still wasn't entirely sure why he had been left these, but now seemed like as good a time as any to try to work it out. Especially since Astoria Greengrass had all but begged him to let her see them. She was really into Divination, about the only one in their year who even took it seriously. Maybe she could help after all.

"Okay, the first thing you do is draw five cards." she explained, sitting attentively across the table from him.

He did as she suggested.

The Ace of Wands. The Star. The Moon. Temperance. The Knight of Swords.

Astoria looked at her textbook, glancing quickly from book to cards and back again.

"Okay, the Ace of Wands is a sign of power, pure and simple. Very hard to make out an actual meaning when it comes up first like that. Almost like it's out of order." She glanced at the next card, and frowned, "The Star looks to the future. It's a card of comfort and healing. A beacon of hope in dark times. Considered by many to be the most beautiful card in the deck, but it's not a guarantee of salvation, but it is a strong guiding light."

Jack frowned slightly, reading the last three card names himself. They seemed familiar. Then it clicked. The Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries.

'_The Bad Wolf listens to the Moon, in her darkest hour,_  
><em>And the Knight shall bring Temperance, 'ere Lightning Strikes Tower.<em>'

The Moon. Temperance. The Knight of Swords.

Astoria's description of the Star sure sounded a lot like the Bad Wolf, as well.

Jack quickly turned over the next card, without asking whether he should or not. It was the Lightning-Struck Tower.

"What does the Moon mean?" he asked quietly.

Astoria seemed to sense the significance of the reading, now, and quickly went to look it up. "The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. At its darkest this can be a very scary card, warning of hidden enemies, mental illness, or dementia. But at its very best, the Moon is a card of genius, mental breakthroughs, astonishing creativity, powerful magic, and intuition."

"I know what the Star means to me." he said softly, "And I think you're right about the Wand, I've been messing about with these for a while now, and no matter how I shuffle them the Ace of Wands comes up first every time."

"Maybe it's trying to tell you something, as well, then?" she asked.

Jack shrugged. He got that feeling, too. Maybe the Ace of Wands was Dumbledore's message to him, and these other five were the real reading. His Prophecy.

The Moon was still a sticking point. He had originally guessed it could mean Luna, but he had never really been sure of that... it could really mean almost anyone. Almost.

Either way, the Bad Wolf was involved in whatever had brought the team back in time, and to Hogwarts... though Astoria's interpretation implied it wasn't likely to be as direct an influence as Jack had previously liked to think.

"Temperance... basically like it sounds, bringing things together and finding a common medium." Astoria continued to explain, "The Knight of Swords... a man too smart for his own good, outgoing, argumentative, wilful, arrogant-"

"It's me. Just so you know." Jack said, smirking at the nervous look that spread across her face. "I'm not that good with Tarot cards, but I had a friend who used them all the time, and she only ever drew that card for me."

Astoria continued reading the description in silence for a moment, then nodded with certainty, "Sure sounds like you, alright, Harkness."

"Thanks." he grinned, knowing full well that about half of every Tarot card's meaning was entirely negative.

"The Lightning-Struck Tower is a card about war." she read directly from the book instead of paraphrasing, "A war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. This is a card about anything we believe to be true, but later learn is false. This realization usually comes as a shock, hence, the violent image. It is, quite simply, that moment in any story where someone finds out a shocking truth, one that shatters their perceptions and makes them reassess their beliefs."

"I think we can guess what that means."

"Best not to talk about it too loudly for now, though, right?" she asked him, glancing around the room.

Jack chuckled, gathering the cards up and moving to stand, "Oh, that reminds me. Draco sends his love, by the way." he said, just taking a moment to smile at the stunned, happy, and slightly blushing expression on her face, before quickly retreating to the first-year dorms.

x x x


	112. United We Stand

x x x

**Chapter 112: United We Stand**

x x x

It had been just about a month since Ianto's induction into the Death Eaters. A few days ago Pansy had told him he had until Christmas to gather the necessary information.

He guessed- and hoped- that meant they wouldn't want to see or hear from him until then, unless he got said information. That should give him time to deal with the fact that this time he hadn't been Obliviated, and he couldn't think of any way to resist a telepath even half as powerful as Voldemort without actually being ignorant of the facts he was trying to conceal.

Memory charms certainly were more selective than Retcon, it was still possible, if he asked Jack nicely enough that he could be made to forget the conversation at Grimmauld Place. Or better yet, forget the location of it, as well. He may not be a Secret Keeper, having only learned the location from Jack after Dumbledore died... but knowing that he knew it was bad enough, really.

It could end up siccing Voldemort on Jack, to try and force that information out of him. Voldemort had already tried to capture members of the Order known to also be Secret Keepers of that location, but they had all gone into hiding under their own Fidelius Charms. Turns out Fleur Delacour's more than just a pretty face that kicks dragon tail... she's also phenomenal with charmswork.

More things he shouldn't know!

The more he thought about it, the more he began to realise that Jack would probably have preferred to take the Cruciatus curse than let him go through with this... if he'd had time to discuss it with Jack in the first place. He hated the idea of Jack suffering for him... but he also hated the situation he had gotten himself into, which was so far beyond what he had expected when prissy little Pansy Parkinson, of all people, had tried to blackmail him.

He'd kind of expected the typical teenager punishment of 'slave for a week', or something similar.

And to add to all of this, Jack was avoiding him, now. It didn't seem malevolent. He didn't _look_ resentful. If anything, every time his eyes landed on Ianto, he looked _upset_. He probably just didn't want to face up to it.

Ianto knew damned well Jack preferred avoiding emotional issues when he had the choice. The problem with that mentality was that Jack's own mind rarely gave him that choice. He constantly tried to keep them all at arm's reach, and they all kept trying to get close to him anyway. And he could have chosen not to let them in, but eventually he always did.

There had to be a way to solve this problem without losing what he had with Jack forever. It was already slipping away, he could see Jack closing himself off emotionally. The problem was, he didn't know what he was going to do if the Dark Lord summoned him again while he still knew all the things he really _needed_ to know to bring Jack back to him and keep him close.

x x x

Severus Snape had never enjoyed teaching. He had been roped into it by Albus Dumbledore, when he had betrayed the Dark Lord. A part of his penance. Even his brief stint as Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher had not been particularly enjoyable, though it had certainly proven less mind-numbing than dealing with first year Potions students, and infinitely less stressful than the position he currently held of Headmaster.

This role had been thrust upon him by the Dark Lord. A cruel joke of fate that both sides he played off against one another would choose to force him into an entirely unwanted career in education.

Still, over time he had developed ways to deal with students. To monitor, contain and control their misdeeds.

When he was four years old, his grandmother, Miranda Prince, had died, donating all her possessions to Hogwarts ('_that no-good blood traitor daughter and her Muggle husband don't get one tarnished Sickle_' was the exact wording in her will). These possessions did include a small family of house elves, whose binding magics detected Severus as a member of the family they were still loyal to, and they had gleefully taken up the task of serving him before any other student. Even to the ends of revenge upon certain Gryffindors who had tormented Severus during his earlier years.

Now these elves were his eyes and ears. A good house elf is never seen and never heard... just like a good spy. It had been a perfect fit.

He knew many things that went on in the school, and before the old man had chosen to die, Severus had even been aware of several details Albus Dumbledore had missed. That said, Dumbledore certainly had a way of knowing things that Severus had missed, as well. He knew why, now. The portraits were on the Headmaster's side, which meant Severus now controlled them as well.

Between these two impressive forms of espionage, students willing to tell on each other for house points (usually Slytherins, but the Ravenclaws weren't above it if the culprit was hindering their studies), and his own- admittedly limited, but still practical- talents at Legilimency, he most likely knew more of the secrets within Hogwarts than anyone else.

He certainly was aware that Owen and Derrin Harper were bribing Peeves with dungbombs to get him to target the Carrows. Luna Lovegood had orchestrated the rest of her house into running an underground homework ring, to ensure that no student failed dramatically enough to earn a detention. Someone, most likely Owen Harper again, had also convinced Moaning Myrtle that Alecto Carrow just needed a friend and a shoulder to cry on, and that they were really kindred spirits if Myrtle could just get Alecto to open up and talk about it.

It was no longer safe to eat half the food presented in the Great Hall, as someone was bribing the house elves to spike it with extremely mild Confundus and Forgetfulness potions. It was also perfectly clear that all the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, along with about half of the Slytherins, were fully aware of this and also avoided the tainted foodstuffs.

Normally, Severus would intervene with this, but he didn't think Confundus potions would make much different to the already abysmal grades of the half-troll junior Death Eaters that had clearly been left out of the loop, anyway... and in spite of public appearances, he took deep and sadistic pleasure in the way said potions affected the Carrows. Interestingly, it appeared that someone had also forewarned Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, Sinistra, Slughorn, Sprout and Vector, as well. None of them deemed it necessary to warn their fellow 'teachers', either.

Out of all of the things his monitoring of the castle and the students within it, however, one appeared to be the most disturbing.

A fifth year was- in Severus' opinion quite blatantly- trying to infiltrate the Death Eaters. Convincing them that one of their own had blackmailed him into it, and even going to the trouble of lying to his closest friends about it, so as not to arouse the Dark Lord's suspicions. It was obvious the stress and secrecy were dramatically damaging the boy's grades and social life.

Severus understood his situation, though perhaps envied the fact he had ever had such close friends to begin with. Even if half of them had wisely disappeared before their blood status was brought into question, and his own house- the supposedly terminally loyal Hufflepuffs- were shunning him for this perceived betrayal.

The boy had in fact defected so dramatically as to now be living in the Slytherin dormitories. Though that might have something to do with his relationship to one of the Slytherins in his year.

However, it was also obvious- to Severus' methods of espionage at least- that the boy had been using memory charms to hide the truth from the Dark Lord. A cheap trick that, while effective, was hazardous to one's health in the long run.

So he to offer the boy an alternative. Save himself the trouble of picking up the pieces later, if either he had a mental breakdown or worse if the stress led to carelessness which allowed the Dark Lord to discover the truth.

x x x

Ianto returned to the Slytherin dormitory, to find Jack standing near the middle of the room, arms folded, and frowning at a box that was sitting about a foot in front of him, on a pedestal that hadn't been there this morning.

"Tavion says it wasn't him." Jack said, looking up at Ianto, "And Livia says it's cursed, zapped her with a Confundus spell when she tried to investigate it. She spent twenty minutes not realising there even was a box here, until it wore off. I tend to believe Tavion, if only because Confundus is a fourth-year spell."

Ianto warily stepped up next to him, and examined the object. It was a gift-wrapped box, about two feet square and a foot tall.

And the label read;

'_Ianto Jones._  
><em>This is not a gift, it is a loan.<em>  
><em>And if you let Harkness use it,<em>  
><em>be sure to wash it thoroughly<em>  
><em>before returning it.<em>'

It was not signed.

"I really want to know what it is." Jack said, smirking.

"Yes, the note does imply you'd enjoy it entirely too much." Ianto agreed, warily touching the black bow that was tied around the shiny silver paper. He was not immediately cursed by anything for trying, so he proceeded to unwrap it.

The ribbon and paper were enchanted to pull off easily without tearing, and soon he was looking at a very old and mostly plain wooden box. It looked well-kept but ancient, and the only markings, besides the small brass latch to open it, were runes, embossed in old polished brass, which- while he studied the subject, he wasn't entirely confident to translate without a reference book- looked like they said something about 'memory' and 'perspective'.

"I think someone knows too much and is being very kind to me." Ianto said, smiling faintly, but then a nervous tone entered his voice as he added, "Either that or it contains some kind of demon. I'm not entirely sure."

Jack gave in a sceptical look, "Want me to open it?"

"I'm okay." Ianto said, quickly opening the latch on the box, and pulling the lid up. Inside was what looked like a polished stone basin, with two rows of empty, stoppered glass vials lined up in neat wooden racks that were built into the box on two sides at right-angles to each other.

Jack looked utterly perplexed, probably trying to work out how his usual filthy mind would be applied to something that really did not look at all like it could be used for any obscene purpose whatsoever.

Meanwhile, Ianto carefully lifted the stone basin out of the box, surprised to find it was incredibly lightweight. Almost like it was made of balsa wood or aluminium, instead of the heavy stone it looked and felt like. Around the edge were more detailed runes, and as Ianto saw no parchment, or inscriptions in the box, he really kind of hoped these runes were instructions.

He set the basin down on the foot of his bed, and pulled out his Ancient Runes text. Technically, it was for seventh years, but between himself and Tosh taking the subject, they had been well into this book by the end of last year.

The translations were quicker and easier than he expected, as his almost-but-not-quite photographic memory helped him to guess what each rune meant, so he could know where to find it in a book that translated English to Runes by alphabetical order, without a sensible alternative system for translating Runes to English.

After a while, during which Jack had settled in a chair next to Ianto's bed, he finally decided he had translated enough to explain it to Jack, "I think it's called a Pensieve. The Rune for its name is funny, like it's trying to say 'pen', 'sieve', and 'pensive' all at once, so I think it's a linguistic joke on somebody's part."

"Cute." Jack said with a smirk.

Ianto took a breath and continued to read what he had interpreted, around the edge of the basin, "_'Place herein a memory. Original - kept safe in glass, away from prying minds - or copy to share or view from a different perspective. Memories are what make us, handle with care.' _ That's... a rough translation, gets the meaning, anyway. There's more on how to actually _use_ it, but it's basically magical technobabble." he said, sitting back and staring at it for a second.

"Someone really does know too much." Jack said with a slow nod.

"But this is a good thing, isn't it?" Ianto asked, turning to look at him carefully.

"It certainly looks like whoever sent this is trying to help." Jack agreed, "But we can't be sure."

"It says you can keep emotions and a kind of gut knowledge in your mind while extracting details and reasons. It's practically perfect for what I've been trying to do. Keep all the incriminating evidence in here, but I'll not be so stressed out, because I'll still know deep down that I can talk to you about it."

"Who would send this?" Jack asked thoughtfully, "Who _could_ send this?"

"It has to be someone in the castle, or at least with free access." Ianto said, "Someone on our side, with the ability to spy on us, with access to this level of magical artefact. Someone who knows how dirty your mind is."

"Half the planet?" Jack asked, smirking. Ianto gave him a serious look. "Actually, I can only think of one person who fits that description, and they also have an intimate understanding of the Death Eater side of your current dilemma."

Ianto looked at Jack, eyes wide in surprise. He was right, there was only one person he could think of, too.

"Actually, the person I'm thinking of was dumb enough to try to read my mind, one time... so they have a _very_ good idea of what I'm capable of thinking."

Ianto snorted with mildly horrified laughter, while Jack grinned unrepentantly.

"I think it's safe to say, they're on our side." Jack said, and Ianto nodded in agreement. Then he grinned lecherously, "So would you be interested in sharing your night with John, with me?"

Ianto gaped at him, "You are kidding."

"I'm not." Jack grinned, "Aside from the fact that it'll be practically a threesome, that way-"

"I should not find that thought so appealing..." Ianto muttered, "I really shouldn't."

"-I know him. I know his tells. It'll give me an idea of his real motives." Jack insisted.

Ianto stared at him, "Do Time Agents always have an ulterior motive when they talk about sex?"

"Not always." Jack shrugged, smirking, "And you're one to talk."

"Could be an... interesting way to learn to use this thing, I'll admit." Ianto said, slightly nervous, "But only if you're sure you're over your initial reaction to finding out about it."

"I was only ever angry at him." Jack said in a gentle, reassuring tone, as he placed his hands on Ianto's shoulders. "Because I really don't trust that sex is all he wanted from you."

x x x

Two hours later, Jack was sitting on his own bed, staring at the Pensieve, as Ianto packed it away carefully. Glass vials filled with the details of his true allegiance in this war were neatly organised in the wooden box next to the basin, as well... though the main event of the evening had been a far more interesting memory in Jack's opinion.

"I... think he might have been telling the truth." Jack said, surprised at this even as he said it.

"You sure you were paying attention?" Ianto chided, smirking slightly, and trying very hard not to blush.

"I can pay attention to more than one thing at a time." Jack retorted with a smirk, "Although he must really be interested in sex with you again, if he did that thing with-"

"Yes." Ianto interrupted sharply, turning an even brighter shade of red in his embarrassment, "You said that... seven times. One for each time he did it."

"He only does that to people he likes."

"Is there a point in the entire future of the universe at which you will stop talking about this?" Ianto asked without much hope.

"Eventually... once you find a good way to silence me." Jack said, with a suggestive wink.

Ianto rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Jack's tone suddenly became serious when he spoke again, "Look, he doesn't usually play that nice. His one-night stands are never that... gentle. It was like he wanted you to _want_ him, not just to fuck him."

"You've shared lovers with him before, then?" Ianto asked warily.

"Yes." Jack said with a shrug, "You know he and I used to be partners, professionally and sexually. When I was a Time Agent I shared almost everything with him... everything he couldn't use against me at least, and I'm sure that feeling was mutual as well."

"You were that close to someone you didn't trust?" Ianto asked sceptically.

"I wasn't very trustworthy, back then, either." Jack admitted.

Ianto snorted, rolling his eyes again, "We still need to work out what he meant about breaking time." he said, quite determined to direct the conversation away from the magical version of an HD sex tape. God, it had been... detailed. He hadn't consciously remembered even half as much as the Pensieve showed them. And he had felt so... exposed, allowing Jack to watch it. He had been so sure he was being judged on his performance, but Jack had only commented on how suspicious John's behaviour was.

x x x

A few days later, Ianto found out that Jack had been using the Pensieve on his own to re-watch some of his favourite memories... at least half of which seemed to involve sex with Ianto. He wasn't sure if he should be horrified or flattered. According to Jack, none of the other memories involved sex at all... only one even involved physical contact of any kind with another person, and that was just dancing.

Pansy's new and improved Inquisitorial Squad were keeping such a close eye on them that it was next to impossible to get time alone together. When they were in the bedroom together, it was almost always in the company of one or both of the first years. Tavion admitted that Pansy had been blackmailing them with threats of detention, and not even to spy, just to be present and act as a deterrent.

Girl was thorough, Ianto had to give her that. But it was frustrating as hell.

But as time wore on, Ianto began to realise that Jack had a very good strategy. While you were using a Pensieve, you weren't physically present in the real world, you were _inside_ the magical device... and Jack was using the thing to watch porn. Sure, porn he himself was starring in, but the principle was the same, and it was a very good way not to get caught.

He also now fully understood the warning on the note that had arrived with the Pensieve.

He would need to learn some very powerful cleansing spells- beyond anything Muggles or even aliens could imagine- to wash such filthy thoughts out of this powerful magical artefact he was only meant to be borrowing.

x x x

"I've come up with a way to give him information without letting him dwell on my emotional state while extracting it from you." Ianto said cautiously. This suggestion was something Jack would enjoy entirely too much. It was _Jack's_ style... but it was also very likely to work, and they needed to offer Voldemort _some_ information, otherwise Ianto might not be considered a worthwhile asset anymore.

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked, smirking faintly. He picked up on Ianto's hesitation and correctly interpreted it with ease, judging by the tone he employed now.

"You told me, you use memories and visions of sex to block out telepaths. I saw how well it worked at the Weasley-Delacour wedding." Ianto explained. Jack nodded, confirming Ianto's suspicion that this was exactly how he had put Voldemort off of reading him, "If the information I offer is directly connected with that mental picture... say I _ask_ you the questions he wants the answers to, while we're... having sex."

Jack, surprisingly, did not perk up at this suggestion. Nor did he offer his usual cheesy grin. Instead he spoke in a perfectly serious and business-like manner, as he concluded, "He wouldn't want to bother double-checking your motives, or how you knew in the first place if we choose to offer something you already know now."

"Exactly."

"He found it extremely off-putting." Jack admitted, "And I'm really very sorry, but I used memories of you against him, at the wedding. The emotional connection hurt him more than the physical image."

"Emotional connection?" Ianto asked sceptically. Jack had never admitted to any emotional connection to Ianto, though it had been hinted at that he felt love and protectiveness for all of the team... just not quite in the sense Ianto always wanted to hear.

Jack looked away, not answering that. "You'd think second time would be easier." he muttered.

"What?"

"I said it before I Obliviated you." Jack all but whispered now.

"Jack...?"

"I hate saying it." Jack conceded, slowly turning to look at Ianto once more, "I think I only managed to say it then because I knew- I..."

The tension, the way he cringed slightly and didn't finish speaking... the lack of his usual bravado and false confidence... "You were afraid?"

"I'm afraid of how you'll react." Jack admitted, nodding slowly. "I... I love you."

Ianto was positively stunned by this. He'd always wanted to hear it, but never genuinely expected it. It had been like wishful thinking, like he'd liked to imagine this amazing larger-than-life immortal man could ever want him, when all reason said that was just ridiculous.

"I've loved you since your first week at Torchwood. When I found out about Lisa I wasn't just angry because you broke the rules or endangered lives... I felt betrayed. I haven't been this obsessed over anyone since I was about twenty... and that was mostly hormones and Stockholm Syndrome, if I'm honest."

Ianto snorted, "Dare I ask?"

"The man who recruited me to the Time Agency... and yes, it's probably best not to ask details."

"What about the Doctor?" Ianto asked sceptically.

"I admired him, kind of idolised him for a while, and after he left I was desperate to track him down... but I wasn't in love with him, I just needed him to help me understand what happened to make me..." Immortal. The Secret didn't let him say it, but the word managed to hang in the air between them without being spoken.

"Wow..." Ianto said softly.

"I usually try to keep people at a safe distance, but every single person I meet wants to get close to me. I had to concede to caring for you and Owen and Tosh and Gwen... but I _never_ expected to fall in love again, after-" he sighed, "I've loved others, you're just the first one I can remember being so..." he laughed nervously, "So crazy about."

"I love you too, Jack."

"You shouldn't." Jack said, half sad half warning, "It's not good for your health. It's the same reason I don't love the Doctor anymore... because it's too easy to follow someone like that into hell and certain doom, if you love them."

"Can't help how I feel." Ianto shrugged.

"You got into this whole Death Eater mess because you wanted to protect me from suffering." Jack said gently, "Because you love me, I heard you tell Pansy that. Ianto, you're not indestructible... I- I need to know that you'll be safe, that's far more important than anything else to me."

"Well I've learned from my mistake, then." Ianto snorted, "I will definitely not sign any contracts with Dark Lords for your protection, in the future. It only leads to me sleeping with your ex, anyway."

Jack laughed, "To be honest, I don't mind that you did... I just don't trust him. He's always been trouble."

"I'll be careful. I promise."

"You better be." Jack said seriously, "I don't like the thought of what I'd do without you."

x x x


	113. Divided We Fall

x x x

**Chapter 113: Divided We Fall**

x x x

"Jack, do you or Ianto have any idea what this symbol means?" Tosh's voice asked over the wrist-strap, as a holo-image of the symbol in question appeared. It was a triangle, with a circle inside it and a vertical line through the middle.

"It does look familiar." Jack admitted. "Isn't that the Greek letter Phi?"

"I know where you've seen it before." Ianto announced peering at the image over Jack's shoulder, "On that pendant your less-crazy stalker ex gave you. The one with your blood in it."

"How many evil exes do you have, Harkness?" Tavion asked, from across the room.

"This one's not evil... he just tried to murder me." Jack taunted back at him.

"Who's that?" Tosh asked.

"Dorm-mate. We moved in with the first year Slytherins." Ianto answered, "Good thing, too. Hufflepuff have officially disowned me, and I don't want to sleep in the same room as Mark Avery any more than Jack does."

"I swear he's been plotting to kill me in my sleep since first year." Jack agreed.

"Where did you see this symbol, anyway?" Ianto asked sceptically.

"Hermione sent it to me. Then Gwen said she'd seen it on her boss's medic alert bracelet."

"Boss?" Jack asked, feigning indignation, "I thought I was her boss?"

"She's spying on Torchwood One. Jack here thinks it's a worthwhile endeavour, and if these symbols are linked it may well be."

"My blood and Torchwood research is a bad combination... never ends well. And what have either of them got to do with... what's Hermione up to, anyway?"

"She said it was a message from Dumbledore." Tosh shrugged.

Ianto rolled his eyes, "I'll hit the Library tomorrow. I've kind of... got a busy evening ahead."

"Thanks, Ianto." Tosh said, "Let us know what you find."

x x x

That night was Ianto's second Death Eater meeting.

Pansy had been pestering him in the hopes of getting information before the deadline of the Christmas holidays, which were only a week away, so she could look like she had done a good job by acquiring Ianto as an asset in the first place. Eventually, he had caved in and admitted he knew something.

He and Jack had then gone out of their way to use the Time Turner, Ianto's Animagism, and the Room of Requirement, to get away from the New Inquisitorial Squad, and have some privacy. They had both agreed that they didn't want their first time together after the de-aging to be tarnished by this underhanded plot.

So they had done it twice.

Then once more for the 'interrogation', as Jack far too cheerfully referred to it. He had also insinuated that the Time Agency had used this as a method of extracting information, as well... but Ianto decided not to think about that.

Ianto couldn't help the smile he wore now, even as the other Death Eaters assembled around him.

"What's got you so happy?" Pansy sniped.

"You're in trouble." Ianto positively cheered. It was true, but not at all the reason he felt so good right now.

"Why?" she asked, paling significantly.

"Because my method of acquiring information from Jack is exactly what you've been conspiring to thwart all year."

"But you... when? How?"

"You need to ask how?" Ianto asked sceptically.

She shook her head, looking almost hysterical now, "I- you- you can't tell him!" she protested.

"What will you do for me in return for my silence?" Ianto asked her, smirking.

She shifted uncomfortably, looking around at the other Death Eaters. None of them were taking notice of this conversation.

"Just stop it." Ianto said simply, "Stop hounding our every step, and maybe I'll prove more valuable to you in the long run. I'll certainly be a much happier minion, and happy minions are less likely to be rebellious minions."

Pansy sulked, "Alright, fine! We're still going to watch him, though. I swear he's been up to something all year."

"What house is he in again?" Ianto asked, trying not to laugh, "The day he's not up to something is the day he's dead!"

Pansy sulked.

Only seconds later, Voldemort himself arrived. He was followed by Bellatrix Lestrange, who was dragging another person by a chain and metal collar, as if he was a dog on a leash. Admittedly, she was controlling her end of the chain with her wand, not her hand... but it still seemed like a very Muggle way to achieve that kind of humiliation and degradation, even if it was pretty damned dramatic.

When Ianto got a good look at the prisoner, his heart stopped for a moment. He knew that boy. They had been in the same year at Hogwarts, before the Dark Lord took over the Ministry. He was the reason there had been a vacant bed in the fifth year Slytherin dorms even before Jack decided to go join the first years.

Thadius Vance had been on the run since the Ministry fell.

It was bad enough to think of the terrible things these people do to complete strangers... but their current victim was someone he knew, had studied with, had actually kind of liked.

Vance was forced to kneel in the centre of the circle of Death Eaters, and Voldemort raised his hands for their attention. "My friends, this is a good day. We will soon have all the information we need to find Harry Potter, and it is all thanks to these two boys." he indicated Ianto and then Vance.

Ianto felt like he was going to throw up.

"Tell them, Mr Jones." Voldemort crowed, "Tell them what you have learned."

He was a bit surprised that Voldemort was trusting the second-hand knowledge that Pansy had passed on to her father who had then passed it on to the Dark Lord... but he really wasn't complaining about not needing to prove his loyalty through Legilimency.

"Harry Potter has been living at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix." he answered. It was both true, and completely useless. On its own, apparently. He dreaded to think how Voldemort could have used this information to his advantage, but apparently...

"And young Mr Vance here was kind enough to reveal the Secret of that location to me." Voldemort announced, "Tell them all, Thadius, so they may go there now and capture the Potter boy!"

Vance cringed away from Voldemort, and swallowed hard before speaking in a hoarse and pained voice, "Twelve Grimmauld Place, London." he looked up desperately now, "You'll let me go now, right? You said you'd let me live if I told you."

Voldemort smiled coldly. "I lied." and in an instant his wand was in his hand, "Avada Kedavra!"

The flash of venomous green light struck Thadius Vance square in the chest and he slumped to the ground in a boneless heap, an expression of horror and betrayal on his face, his dead glassy eyes staring blankly. His head only even turned to face Ianto by the way he fell, but it still felt as if that stare was aimed at him... accusing him.

Would the Death Eaters even have gone after Vance if Ianto hadn't told them where Harry was?

He wanted to look away, but that would have been considered suspicious behaviour, and he was already in enough trouble as it was. If they captured Harry tonight... he would have outlived his usefulness.

"The Vance family have been tainted by Mudbloods for generations!" Bellatrix crowed, positively gleeful, "Here ends their line!"

"Yes, Bella, dear." Voldemort said, almost chiding but not quite, "And soon so shall end the Potter line. Go now, all of you!"

With a gleeful war cry from Bellatrix, the Death Eaters all began to depart in a hurry, each one eager to be a part of this historic moment.

As the room began to empty, Voldemort turned to Ianto. "You have served well."

"Thank you, My Lord." Ianto answered, trying very hard not to look at Vance's corpse on the ground.

"You shall be rewarded." Voldemort continued, and relief flooded through Ianto at those words. "Return to Hogwarts, now, and inform me of the reactions of the students when the news of Potter's capture and demise reaches them."

"Yes, My Lord." Ianto bowed, and when Voldemort didn't say anything more, he assumed it was safe to turn and leave.

x x x

The instant he was out of the Manor grounds, Ianto Portkeyed to London, and pulled an object he had kept on him at all times but sworn never to use himself, out of his pocket, "John Hart?" he called into the magic mirror.

"Eye Candy!" Hart cheered, his grinning face appearing in the glass, "Didn't expect you to really call me." his cheerful demeanour dropped almost instantly, and he seemed to be taking in Ianto's distraught manner, "Who died?"

Ianto did not feel like arguing or even sniping at him, instead simply stating, "I'd be seriously disappointed if you aren't tracking this mirror somehow. Come and get me."

An instant later he heard Apparation next to him, and saw John standing there. He was only wearing his jeans, undershirt and boots, without either the cloak or jacket, or- he was surprised to see- any visible weaponry. He held out his hand, "Oh hells, I guessed right?"

Ianto nodded shakily, taking his hand and allowing himself to be Apparated away.

x x x

Half an hour later, Ianto was watching as Hart checked his wrist-strap, "I can't see anything different. Whatever you did, it's not changed our problem."

"I gave the Dark Lord information which should lead to him capturing Harry Potter."

"Nope." Hart shrugged, "Doesn't look like it. Trust me, Potter getting caught early _is_ a game-changer. I would definitely see the ripples from it."

"I don't trust you... but I do believe you." Ianto said, smirking faintly.

The reason it had taken half an hour was because John had decided he wanted to 'play' first. He had also done a lot to alleviate Ianto's foul mood, with that... 'playing'.

"You fucked Jack, within the last two hours." Hart pointed out idly.

"Yes."

"I could taste him on your skin."

"Your point?"

"I liked it."

"He knows you're here. I had to tell him." Ianto admitted.

"Oh, what'd you go and do that for?" Hart whined, positively pouting.

Ianto rolled his eyes, "I have my reasons. Live with it."

"You didn't tell him about my first warning, two years ago, did you?"

"No... I kind of forgot about that, actually." Ianto admitted sheepishly.

"It's the whole reason I'm even here." Hart explained, quite melodramatically, "I got stuck after delivering that message, which was pretty close to word-for-word what _your future self_ told me to tell you. I don't know the details. Just so we're clear."

"You've been making a lot less effort on the sneaky and mysterious, since then."

"I'd rather fuck you than fuck with your head." Hart shrugged vaguely.

"I see."

"You should get back to Hogwarts now." Hart said, frowning at his wrist-strap, "According to these readings there was a third copy of Jack's Vortex Manipulator in London about five hours ago... while the usual two I've been tracking sat on their asses in Cardiff and Hogwarts, respectively." he looked up at Ianto, "I thought he said it was broken?"

"He's been using a Time Turner."

Hart grinned, "I do love that man."

"Get in line." Ianto surprised himself by the fact he didn't feel any negative emotions as he discussed this with Hart. It was almost amicable banter, only slightly more malevolent than his threats to give Owen decaf.

"I was there first!"

"Depending on him... a threesome wouldn't be out of the question."

"_Now _ you're speaking my language!"

x x x

Five hours earlier, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Draco, Lucius and Narcissa were all gathered in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

Hermione was re-reading '_The Tale Of The Three Brothers_' for the third time, while Harry and Ron questioned Sirius over the past pranks of the Marauders. Occasionally Lucius would add a cold and cutting remark about the dangers of these escapades, or Narcissa would elaborate on the motives and true feelings of her own Slytherin friends who had been a part of the tale.

With two sides to the story, it was much more interesting than Sirius' usual boasting, and felt a lot more... real. Not always in a good way, either.

Draco was listening disinterestedly, while pretending- or trying- to read a textbook from the Black family's library- therefore Sirius had concluded loudly that it had to be all about the Dark Arts.

"You know, the Smith family think that story you're reading is a great big metaphor for world domination. Or at least, the two Slytherins in that family that I've met do." he commented to Hermione. "I mean, a lot of old myths _can_ be interpreted literally... but they probably shouldn't."

Harry looked over, "Voldemort has been looking for a wand for the last few months. He interrogated Gregorovitch, Death Eaters abducted Ollivander-"

"Or killed him." Ron put in morbidly.

Harry gave him a dark look for that. "And he's trying to track down some thief he saw when he read Gregorovitch's mind. Some young bloke who stole a wand from Gregorovitch."

"Gregorovitch was almost two hundred years old when he was murdered two months ago." Lucius pointed out, "A young man in his memories may already be dead of old age himself."

"Voldemort thinks he's still alive." Harry pointed out coolly. He was somewhat impressed that none of the purebloods were cringing when he said the name anymore. He probably just said it way too often for them _not_ to get over it given the time they had been forced to spend together. Harry frowned slightly, "In fact, I'm pretty sure Voldemort kind of recognised him... like he's racking his brain to figure out where from."

Draco rolled his eyes, "So you think the Dark Lord is looking for the Elder Wand? It's a myth. A symbol of power, like a metaphor."

"Yes, let's get metaphorical about wands." Sirius grinned.

"Shut it, dog-breath." Draco warned darkly, but Sirius just laughed.

"What _we_ believe about the legend is immaterial." Narcissa observed, "It is what the Dark Lord believes that counts, as it is his actions that we are trying to understand."

"And it's entirely possible that there could be a wand that people _think_ is the Elder Wand." Hermione observed, "I mean, obviously Death himself couldn't have made it, that part is just ridiculous, but maybe a great wizard a long time ago... details get lost in history, and a legend gets built up around what little is left?"

"Makes sense." Sirius agreed.

"I'm not buying the bring-back-the-dead part, but the other two are feasible that way." Draco conceded.

"Don't be so sure about that." Harry muttered, peering at Hermione's book as if he was interested, "All three seem perfectly reasonable to me. Under Hermione's assumption that it was really some powerful wizard-"

"Or witch!" Ron put in, earning a half-sceptical smile from Hermione.

"-rather than Death itself." Harry finished, fully aware that Ron's interruption was triggered entirely by Hermione's past behaviour regarding assumptions based on gender.

"Death did what now?" Jack Harkness asked, wandering into the kitchen like he'd been living there this whole time.

"It's a story." Hermione explained, "But Dumbledore- and apparently Voldemort- both seem to think it has some relevance."

"Care to tell us how you managed to sneak in like that?" Draco asked, "It's disconcerting, especially as you're meant to be at Hogwarts right now."

"I am at Hogwarts right now." Jack said, smirking as he showed them the Time Turner he was wearing around his neck.

Draco rolled his eyes, and stage-whispered to the others, "I don't know whether to insult him or admire him."

"Feel free to do both." Jack said brightly, "Either way, I'm here to save your lives. The Dark Lord knows you're here. Or he will in about five hours' time."

"How does he know?" Harry asked, horrified.

"We've been playing spy." Jack explained quickly, "Part of doing that requires that we give him genuinely useless but apparently valuable information, so he doesn't kill the spy in question for sheer incompetence. The fact Harry Potter is living at the Order of the Pheonix Headquarters _is_ useless... unless he captures, tortures and interrogates someone who knows the Secret to where said headquarters is."

"Who?" Sirius demanded immediately.

"You told him we were here?!" Ron snarled.

"Yes. It wasn't of any use to him without the Secret, and it would probably have been his first guess anyway." Jack snapped at Ron, who sulked but did accept this, "And as for who... Thadius Vance."

"Shit!" Sirius hissed, "Poor kid. We should never have told him, he didn't even want to stay here."

"They're going to kill him after he talks." The way Jack said that, future tense but so definitive... everyone in the room understood, it had already happened from Jack's perspective, and Time Turners can't _change_ events. Those who try suffer horrible consequences.

Actually, Jack had told Harry one time that this was a general rule of time travel, not just the Time Turners. If you experienced something, witnessed it, you couldn't go back and change it. What you don't know, on the other hand, is usually fair game.

Harry sighed, "We all need to leave, and take _everything _ of value with us."

Hermione and Draco both turned their heads towards the pile of books Draco had scavenged from the Black Family library. "Mine!" Draco snapped immediately, upon noticing her interest.

Sirius snickered, and Jack looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Hermione just rolled her eyes, "We should stick together, anyway." she told him as if he was foolish for thinking otherwise.

"Come with me." Sirius insisted. The only one of the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place over the last three months who only lived there part-time, "I know a few Secret locations we can go to. You'll be unwelcome-" he added, directly to Lucius, Narcissa and Draco, "-but you will be safe."

"We need to keep working on how to stop Voldemort." Harry insisted.

"You can do that from where we're going." Sirius told him.

"Is it accessibly to Mrs Weasley?" Harry asked flatly.

"Yes..." Sirius said slowly. Warily.

"Then I'll be locked up safely where I can't risk hurting myself trying to do the right thing. I'm sorry Ron." Harry explained when Ron started to look tetchy at this, "I love your mother, really, she's all but adopted me... but you know she wouldn't let me put myself in danger."

Ron sighed, "You're right."

"So where are you going to go?" Sirius asked.

"First stop will probably be Cardiff." Harry looked to Jack, who nodded in acceptance of this suggestion. "Not sure what we'll do after that, though."

"Keep in touch." Sirius insisted.

"Of course we will." Harry agreed immediately.

Meanwhile, Hermione had been zooming around collecting things from upstairs, and now she rushed in carrying that beaded bag from the wedding. "You know." Draco drawled, following her and still holding the book he had been reading in an almost possessive way now, "Jack did say five hours from now... as in not right this second. We're not in any hurry."

"I don't want to risk forgetting anything." Hermione insisted.

"More haste, less care." Jack said flatly, "I did choose to come here now in order to give you plenty of time."

Hermione blushed a bit, and set her bag down slowly.

"Oh, you she listens to." Draco sniped.

"Everyone listens to me." Jack said cheerfully.

"Draco." Narcissa said almost warily.

"Yes, Mother?" he said, instantly polite and civil again.

"You intend to go with them?" she asked eyes darting briefly over Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Everyone looked at Draco now, and he shifted uncomfortably, especially under his father's gaze. "Yes. I think I can help."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius all looked shocked. Narcissa was clearly not pleased, but also not visibly upset. Lucius glared, but there was no force in it. Jack looked outright proud of this announcement.

"Just be safe, dear." Narcissa said gently, "And contact us if you need anything. I won't let my no-good cousin and his Muggle communications device out of my sight." The words 'no-good cousin' had been downright amicable.

Draco grinned, "I promise, I'll not do anything too heroic. Can't rule out noble, though. Sorry."

Within the hour, the house was not only deserted, but stripped of all valuables. If it wasn't nailed down, they had taken it, and Sirius has even pried up a few of the things that had been nailed down.

Four hours after that, the Death Eaters arrived with all their usual melodrama and bloodlust... only to find absolutely nothing but a Muggle post-it note on the kitchen table, which simply said;

'_Too late._  
><em>You thought we wouldn't notice<em>  
><em>when you took Vance?<em>'

x x x


	114. The Power Of Three

x x x

**Chapter 114: The Power Of Three**

x x x

"You know they'll suspect your spy." Draco pointed out. The five of them were sitting in a circle on the floor in Jack's flat in Cardiff. They were alone, and after a quick check on the comms Ianto had discovered that Gwen had Tosh were out doing girly things, while Jack's past-self was at work.

"The spy has plenty of plausible deniability." Jack said, casually leaning back on his hands as he watched them all, "Just like me."

"I've been noticing the gender-neutral pronouns." Hermione observed. She was busily pulling books out of her beaded bag that was far too small for them to even fit through the opening let alone inside. Not one of the other boys had even batted an eye at the magical properties of that bag.

"I've been doing that on purpose." Jack said with a nod and a faint smile. "Anyway, our spy has also used to the Time Turner to eliminate the half hour or so they were unobserved by loyal Death Eaters. We both have full alibis- have I mentioned how much I love this thing?" he indicated the Time Turner, "It's even more flexible than the time travel I'm used to. Oh, and I have got to say, I love your bag, Hermione."

"Oh yeah?" she asked sceptically.

"I thought you said you weren't gay?" Draco snorted.

Ron scoffed at this, "You would know he is!"

"I'm not." Jack shrugged, "The current use of that word implies that I would only be sexually attracted to men, but I honestly don't care if a person is male, female... or even human for that matter. It doesn't affect whether I find them interesting or not. It might affect exactly what I can do with them, but that's not the point. And what I meant when I said I love the bag is that I'm fascinated by its magical properties... bigger on the inside. Incredibly useful." He looked directly at Hermione, "Could you teach me?"

She was surprised at this, "Well... yes, I guess. It's seventh year material, though."

"Not a problem." Jack said brightly, "I'm up to the challenge."

"I bet you are." Draco muttered. Ron pulled a disgusted face.

Harry just laughed, "Malfoy, have you always had a twisted mind, or is it Jack's fault?"

"Bit of both." Draco shrugged, "Why?"

"The only reason I got what you insinuated is because I'm friends with Jack." Harry admitted.

"Virgin." Draco sniped.

"You say that like it's a bad thing?" Harry retorted.

"Only bad thing about it is I imagine it must get boring." Jack announced to anyone who would listen. Hermione hit him lightly upside the head with a rolled up piece of parchment she had just recovered from the bag, in much the same way that the Torchwood team would all hit Owen whenever he was being rude.

"Not like you would know." Ron muttered.

"Can we please change the subject?" Hermione protested, "Horcruxes, maybe? Or the Elder Wand?"

"Draco." Jack said suddenly, sitting up more attentively, "You said the Smith family had a theory on the Hallows?"

"Yes." Draco said warily.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts." Jack announced with determination, "Gonna talk to Alex Smith. He's in my year."

"He's a half-blood, Muggle father, not related." Draco pointed out, before hesitating and frowning slightly, "Strangely enough, he is one of the two I meant."

"That just makes me even more suspicious." Jack told him. Obviously, they all agreed.

x x x

"The Deathly Hallows are just a story." Alexander Smith told Jack. They were in the fifth year dorm room, alone in spite of Avery's snide remarks and threats to tell Ianto.

"Yeah, but there's got to be some truth behind the legend, right?" Jack insisted.

Alex sighed, "They're a metaphor. The wand symbolises power, you can interpret it as political, financial, physical, doesn't make a difference. It is power, however you choose to attain it. The stone is humanity's constant aspiration to cheat death, to avoid it, to bring back those it took. The cloak is the truth that the best of all of these is concealment and deception. Hiding in plain sight. To master it all, you have to appear harmless. It's practically the Slytherin way. And your boyfriend's particularly good at it, by the way." There was an odd smirk as he said that, it wasn't flirtatious, the admiration was deeper than that... and it was almost a plotting smirk, really.

"Where did you learn all this?" Jack asked him.

Alex shrugged, "I got both wizarding and Muggle stories growing up. My dad couldn't accept the possibility that '_The Tale Of The Three Brothers_' was to be taken literally. And I bet, if he'd been a wizard, he'd have been Slytherin, too. This was how he interpreted it."

"Makes more sense than some of what I've heard the old purebloods say about it." Jack said brightly, before shrugging and leaving him alone. Alex failed to notice when Jack used wand-up-the-sleeve wordless magic to levitate one of Sirius's old spy-balls into the other boy's pocket.

x x x

The next morning, in the library, Ianto was sifting through old books of legends and stories.

"You won't find it in there." Alex Smith said, nodding to the book Ianto was currently reading, "If you and Harkness are really like those crackpot Hallows-hunters, you'll want to research the Peverell family. They're the ones the best nut-jobs seem to thinks started it all, about a thousand years ago."

Ianto looked up at him sceptically, "And you know this, how?"

"I've met a few of said nut-jobs. Lovegood's dad is totally obsessed with it." Smith shrugged vaguely, sitting down and offering Ianto a thick tome titled '_The Old Lines_'. "Of course, that won't do you much good, in the long run. They disappeared in the nineteen thirties. Impressive track record for an ancient line, to be documented even that far, really."

"You have a special interest in bloodlines?" Ianto asked him sceptically, "I thought that was a pureblood attitude?"

Smith shrugged again, "Three reasons. First, yeah I want to be able to tell those pureblood jerkwads to suck it. Second, my dad's really fond of this kind of thing, too. I can list my entire Muggle side back to last century. Third... Tolkien's my favourite writer... though that may have been caused by my dad's attitude."

Ianto snorted, "Oh dear. You've read those books, too?"

"All of them."

"Jack's been making rude jokes about House Elves for months." Ianto said flatly.

"I wish you hadn't told me that." Smith replied just as falsely deadpan.

Ianto laughed lightly, "You don't have to live with him anymore."

"Fair point." Smith conceded, smirking faintly, "But given the political climate, right now... I think I could use friends like the two of you."

"You do realise Hufflepuff have disowned me for betraying my lover to join the Death Eaters, right?" Ianto asked, somewhat surprised by the blunt request. "I mean, it's not even the Death Eaters they seem to object to... it's the betrayal."

"I also realise that you couldn't ever have been sorted there without good reason." Smith countered.

"And you're not in Ravenclaw... why?" Ianto retorted.

Smith grinned, "My dad's a bad influence. Or a good one, depending on how you look at it. Every story has at least two sides. The best have more."

"Ah, now I see the serpent." Ianto said with a nod.

"You won't see the fangs until it's too late." Smith added lightly.

"I think we'll get on just fine." Ianto said, smiling and genuinely meaning it, as Smith offered his hand and Ianto shook it.

x x x

"So what exactly are we doing with this... D.N.A., anyway?" Gwen asked her boss, handing him a vial of blood and wrinkling her nose at it.

"Cataloguing." Caedius Abelsmith answered idly, "We're meant to compare these results to the Human Genome Project and alien database, to prove if this is of Earth or extra-terrestrial origin."

"You can't tell?"

"It shouldn't be human." Caedius answered flatly, "But all our previous tests indicated that it is. However, Torchwood is certainly one of the best places to be when it comes to new innovations in identifying extra-terrestrials."

"So I've heard." Gwen said flatly, "You must know it's not necessarily alien just because it's not human, though, right?" she asked, glancing around to make sure they weren't being watched, before adding, "I mean, I've heard about magical hybrids."

"There's no magic in this blood, and believe me there are ways to tell." Caedius smirked faintly, as he glanced her way, "Of course, that doesn't stop non-magical blood from being just as viable in spells that require the right kinds of blood to work. We've managed to get a few very powerful aliens to obey us through blood-binding spells, in the past."

"Why?" Gwen asked with a frown.

"Because the bosses asked for mind-control, and the technology wasn't readily available at the time." Caedius shrugged, "You don't say no to these people, Sam."

It took Gwen half a second and a double-take to remember that she had been using the alias 'Samantha Jones' for this bit of espionage, and she was thankful, not for the first time, that he hadn't been looking right at her when he'd said her 'name' in that offhand way.

"Why?" she asked bluntly.

Caedius chuckled in a morbid kind of way, "This your first time working for a covert organisation? You don't watch movies that much?"

Gwen sulked a bit, folding her arms and pouting, "They can't be _that_ bad, can they?"

"Most of us aren't, however I would be wary of those who _choose_ to join the management program." Caedius smirked, "Much like the governments that rule in this age, you don't get to a position of power in Torchwood without asking for it... and if you want it enough to ask, you probably shouldn't be allowed to have it."

x x x

"I'm sorry, Ianto." Tosh said regretfully, over the wrist strap, "I've been looking for the name Peverell. I got my hands on a parchment copy of the last known magical records, and it looks like the last Peverell married into the Malfoy line, but then they had a daughter who was disowned- by all accounts quite dramatically- for marrying a Muggle named Frines. It ends there, because what pureblooded bigot in their usual state of mind would care to trace the rest of the line after that. I tried searching the internet for the name Frines, but I keep getting redirected to discount pharmacy wholesalers... or the biography of an actor named Ralph Fiennes. Even the Malfoy bloodline can be traced online if you know where to look, but not this apparently Muggle name."

"Well that's not suspicious at all." Ianto deadpanned, "Were there any who married off before then?"

"There's a few." Tosh admitted, "But they don't have any documented children. One married into the Black family, and another the Potters. Like I said, no children."

"Nieces and nephews?" Ianto asked, "I mean, people don't always leave their inheritance to their own bloodline."

"I'll see what I can find." Tosh agreed.

x x x

"You know there's a reason I said we had to avoid the Order." Harry said with determination. He was standing toe to toe with Jack's past self, and the two were glaring at each other as he spoke, "There is a WAR going on out there, and I'm the only one who knows how to find and destroy the enemy's secret weapon. I don't need people trying to keep me safe, and I don't want anyone else's death on my conscience for trying to protect me! Not even yours!"

The backhanded way of saying that he knew Jack's immortality meant any heroic sacrifices on his part wouldn't last and that it didn't make any difference to Harry... did throw Jack just a bit, but he immediately retaliated, "So tell us what you're doing! We'll work together! Don't go charging off into the unknown without a plan!"

"I'm with Jack on this one." Draco pointed out from the side-lines. Well, the couch, really.

"Well we know that!" Ron sniped. It was strange how Ron's constant negative insinuations about Draco and Jack's relationship- when you really couldn't call it that- just bounced right off Draco like it didn't matter. Even the tone Ron used was more teasing, rather than downright malevolent anymore.

"We need a solid plan before you just go off looking for trouble." Jack insisted.

"Harry, he's right." Hermione agreed gently, "Where would we go, what exactly would we do?"

"We need to get the Cup from Gringotts." Harry answered quickly.

"And Nagini has to meet a messy end as well, but she's hardly ever out of the Dark Lord's sight." Draco pointed out. He wasn't privy to the exact details of the plan, only the identities of the two things left to be destroyed, and the fact that destroying them would weaken Voldemort.

In fact, Harry had gone out of his way to mislead Draco, implying that there had only ever been three Horcruxes, when he had alluded to them in the presence of his Slytherin classmate. It was paranoid and maybe a bit stupid, but it didn't hurt their own plans, and if Draco was ever somehow forced to tell Voldemort what he knew- and Harry did honestly believe it would take force- he'd only be able to say that Harry had caught on to the fact there were _three_ Horcruxes. Not seven.

It was only a small difference, but it could make all the difference.

"And I-" Harry hesitated, but he figured he may as well say it now he started, "I want to visit Godric's Hollow. It's where my parents lived, it's where Voldemort first attacked me. It's even where Dumbledore grew up. I'm sure there's something important there."

"You're not." Jack said, suddenly smirking, "You've got a _feeling_ there's something important there. Those feelings are usually pretty reliable... but not always."

"Well what do you think I should do?" Harry insisted.

"If you go there, don't look like yourself for a start." Tosh announced, "We know you've used Polyjuice potion before, to break into the Ministry. It may seem trivial for something like this, but just walking out the door of a Fidelius-protected building is dangerous when you're you."

"I'd personally recommend a good bank robbery first." Jack said brightly, "It's been ages since I've been involved in a really good heist."

"I don't want to know." Draco announced.

"Friend I had in the early nineteen thirties-" Jack began, almost as if to purposefully spite Draco's words.

"I said no." Draco interrupted, but Jack just kept talking.

"-went all over the United States-"

"What part of 'no'-"

"-making a name for himself-"

"-don't you understand?"

"-as a 'modern-day Robin Hood'." Jack talked right over Draco, who finally gave up, as Jack added, "Of course, I've also met the original Robin Hood... who was a _lot_ better in bed."

"I did _not_ want to know that!" Ron protested in horror.

"This." Draco said with a sigh, "This is what I was trying to prevent!" He turned to look right at Harry, "So we're going to Godric's Hollow first, right?"

"Yeah." Ron nodded.

"If you can take being Polyjuiced to a random Muggle?" Hermione teased. Draco did pull a face, but wasn't putting much effort into the usual facade of disdain.

Harry laughed. "I love how we just unanimously decided against what Jack suggested because he finally finished one of those stories we tell him we don't want to know."

"Finally?" Jack asked sceptically.

"You need to grow into your sense of tact, Jack." Tosh said. She said it kindly, but followed it up immediately with a laugh that had Jack scowling at her as if genuinely offended.

"What do you mean I'm going to learn _tact?_ I would never!" he protested, joining in the good humour that was dispelling the mere thought that there had been an argument mere minutes ago.

x x x

At about the same time as this conversation was going on in Cardiff, the Hogwarts Express was racing through the wilderness towards London, packed full of students all of whom were eager to get away from the nightmare their school had become, even if only for a couple of weeks. No one had chosen to stay, not even the prefects. Not even the most avid junior Death Eaters.

The first half of the journey passed in icy silence, as Neville, Ginny and Owen were sitting across from Jack and Ianto. There were a few spaces in other compartments, but as those were surrounded by those Slytherins who genuinely wanted to be Death Eaters, this seemed to be the slightly less offensive option to Neville and Ginny. Owen didn't really care, as he knew the truth... and Neville and Ginny did sort of trust Jack, just not Ianto anymore.

Ianto just kept his nose in a book and minded his own business. He preferred this silent treatment to the enthusiastically evil attitudes of the real Death Eaters, but it still made him a bit uncomfortable if he dared look at either of the two Gryffindors who had once considered him an ally.

Owen didn't count. Owen never counted.

But then the door to their compartment burst open, and in the doorway stood Antonin Dolohov. "Harkness." he snarled.

"What did you do now, Jack?" Ianto asked idly. Jack put on a convincing innocent face, and shrugged.

"What didn't he do?" Owen snorted.

Dolohov sneered, "The Dark Lord demands your presence. I wouldn't refuse if I were you."

"And aren't we all glad you're not me." Jack sniped.

"I'm especially happy about that." Ianto said brightly, "But seriously, Jack, know when to shut up." Jack gave him a surprised look for that, and Ianto shrugged, "Do you have any idea what they do to people who say 'no' to them? They're worse than your ex!"

"Unlikely." Jack muttered under his breath, but he did stand up and face Dolohov, "Did he say _why_ he wants to see me?"

"Because you're so damned handsome." Ianto sniped sarcastically.

Dolohov glowered at Ianto, "You shut your mouth, runt." Ianto just gave him a 'you're kidding, right?' sort of look. But he didn't say anything, so Dolohov mistook it for obedience. "You know damned well why, Harkness."

"Actually, no. I don't." Jack answered, "I've done a lot of things that could offend a lot of people. Which one has upset him?"

Dolohov sneered evilly, "There are spells to identify handwriting."

Ianto did not know what that meant, but Jack just got an expression on his face usually reserved for apocalypses. It was that 'oh shit, I don't know how to talk my way out of this one' look that Ianto had only ever seen a couple of times, but had remembered it vividly due to the horror of the context it appeared in.

"Jack, what did you do?" Ianto asked, confused... and a bit terrified though he tried to hide it, "Please tell me you didn't send him a love letter signed from Peeves?" There was a precedent, albeit set by Owen, for that behaviour.

"Worse." Jack said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"Signed from Snape?" Owen asked, trying and failing to break the tension that was building in the small compartment.

"Shut up, both of you!" Dolohov snarked, grinning menacingly at Jack, "You know what you did, Harkness."

Ianto saw a look exchanged between the three Gryffindors, and when Owen met his gaze, Ianto widened his eyes in an expression of horror, and emphatically shook his head. It would only make matters worse if they tried to attack this Death Eater. It would put all of them in danger... including Neville and Ginny's families, as well.

Jack nodded slowly to Dolohov's question. "You're not even denying it!" Dolohov crowed, "Oh, this is going to be fun!"

"You plan to take me to the Dark Lord? You expect me to surrender?" Jack asked, smirking, "Sorry... I have never been known to come quietly."

Owen snorted, and Ianto tried very hard not to look as embarrassed as he felt at those words. It was certainly true. But then in a flash of red light Dolohov was thrown back out of the compartment and into the far wall. Hitting his head and knocking him unconscious.

"What now?" Owen demanded angrily, "You can't Apparate from the train, Jack. Can't even Portkey out of these wards, since what happened in second year."

"I can from just outside it." Jack laughed, and with a wave of his wand the glass window pane vanished.

"You are _not_ going to jump!" Ianto snapped, horrified, "What if you're not fast enough?"

"They won't be, either." Jack answered simply. Ianto understood the meaning of that. If Jack did fail to Apparate before he hit the ground, he still believed that the Death Eaters wouldn't have time to get to his mangled corpse before it unmangled itself, and he woke up and Apparated away anyway.

"This is bloody stupid!" Ianto snapped.

"Think of a better way?" Jack asked him seriously.

Ianto hesitated. No, he could not.

"You know what they'll do to me if they catch me."

Ianto looked down at the unconscious Death Eater, "What the hell did you do?"

"I wrote a note, to taunt the Death Eaters." Jack said softly, "They found it in Harry Potter's hideout, minutes after you told them where to find him. It told them Vance's disappearance was the reason we knew. I didn't want to take the risk of them thinking you were the mole."

Ianto smiled weakly, "And it didn't occur to you to have Harry write it?"

"I didn't know there was a spell to trace handwriting."

"I could have told you." Ianto said weakly.

"You weren't there."

"You need to curse me, Jack." Ianto said quietly, drawing his own wand, somehow quite certain that Jack wouldn't hesitate, and it was best to at least appear armed, "If you escape without any sign that I tried to stop you..."

Jack smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss him gently, "I'm sorry." he whispered quietly, "Petrificus." The spell hit Ianto in the chest, freezing every muscle in his body except for those vital internal organs that kept him alive. But as Jack turned to jump out the window, he was hit from behind by a stunner.

Ianto was helpless to do anything, as three more Death Eaters- Jugson, Nott and Macnair- arrived on the scene, Nott cast disarming spells on the three Gryffindors who hadn't even gone for their wands yet, and the other two seizing Jack by both arms and dragging him away.

Owen followed them as far as the end of the carriage, but without a wand he was powerless to fight them, and didn't dare act like he was even trying to, rather he feigned morbid curiosity about the whole thing.

While Owen was out there, Neville retrieved his own wand, and broke the spell on Ianto, who slumped down into his seat, feeling absolutely horrified by what he had just witnessed. "Idiotic, sentimental..." Owen grumbled as he stalked back into the compartment, "If he hadn't stopped for a goodbye snog, he'd be gone and safe, now."

Meanwhile, Neville was staring blatantly at Ianto, "Who's side are you on?"

Ianto gave him a very sad, baleful look, "Jack's."

x x x


	115. Through Crimson Eyes

x x x

**Chapter 115: Through Crimson Eyes**

x x x

The room was well-appointed, if dark and cold. Stone walls lined with expensive drapery, and dark wooden furniture. This room had once belonged to Lucius Malfoy, but now it was Lord Voldemort's study. From here he planned out each move in this war. He was currently preparing for a trip to Nurmengard. It would take a great deal of power to break in, and ten times as much to break back out... which is why he was being so particularly careful with the plan beforehand.

Now, however, a chime sounded through the room, indicating his presence was required. He had explicitly demanded not to be disturbed unless no one else could do it themselves.

It had only been an hour. Were they really so incompetent? Lord Voldemort was _not_ pleased.

He swept from the room, and passed through the much colder, empty room beyond- formerly a sitting room, now a meeting hall- down several corridors and into the former drawing room. Beneath here were the holding cells. This room itself had been repurposed for interrogation and torture.

The furnishings made that much clear in their archaic and bloody glory. An iron maiden, a rack, vast assortments of bladed and blunt instruments of pain.

And in the middle of it all, chained to the floor, was their latest victim.

Bellatrix Lestrange had been given free rein to do all but kill the boy, to find out what he knew. She had not taken this order lightly. Jack Harkness knelt in the centre of the torture chamber, both knees broken in such a way that his own weight would make the injury vastly more agonising, blood running down from his eyes, his lips lacerated to the point where they were a bloody mess by what looked like a curse rather than a blade, both shoulders dislocated to pull his arms too-far behind him to reach the chains, lashes from a whip across his arms, back and shoulders, which appeared to have cleaved flesh from bone in some places.

Yet he did not slump or slouch. His back, for all the damage done to it was straight, his head raised in Bella's direction, and even without eyes anymore it was possible to _feel_ the intent of a defiant stare. It was clear he had offended her to the point that she _wished_ she could just cut out his tongue, but had restrained herself in the interest of fulfilling her orders and extracting information.

"_AN HOUR!_" Bellatrix shrieked, almost pleadingly to her master, "I did all of this and he still won't talk!"

"Not true." Harkness' voice was hoarse, he had clearly screamed, yet he did not seem cowed in any way. It was a miracle he was able to speak at all, given the damage Bellatrix had done to his face. "I told you, I don't know."

"Liar!" she snarled, "Filthy Mudblood-loving bastard-child!" and she struck him with the whip across the shoulders.

Lord Voldemort stood back, watching with fascination. Harkness recovered far faster than anyone he had seen before, and when he spoke he did a surprising job of keeping his voice almost cordial, "I think you'll find he's not a Mudblood, Bella. Or were you talking about what I did with your nephew, Draco?"

Another violent whip-crack, and a curse that burned the skin off his chest like acid.

"Enough, Bellatrix." Lord Voldemort commanded. She backed off immediately. With an idle flick of his wand, Lord Voldemort showed the small mercy of restoring the prisoner's eyesight. With a crude and far outdated healing spell from before the days when easing pain was considered at all important. The damage was undone, but it was undone with at least as much pain it was originally done.

Harkness positively smirked as he looked up at Voldemort, "Thanks." he said with total irreverence, "I was beginning to miss your beautiful pet psychopath's pretty face."

Bellatrix seethed, but didn't dare raise a hand to him now Lord Voldemort had ordered her to back down.

"Where is Harry Potter?" Voldemort demanded.

"I already told your girlfriend here." Harkness answered. Voldemort could tell the calm facade was just that. A facade. It was still utterly infuriating. "I don't know. I know where he WAS, and you already know exactly the same details, or you wouldn't have got my note."

"You are lying." Voldemort all but hissed, "I know you can tell me where Harry Potter is." There was a flicker in Harkness' eyes at that. Yes, he _could_ tell. It was an odd recognition, but certainly there. "Ah, I see. You cannot hide the truth from Lord Voldemort."

"Hell of an ego you've got there." Harkness retorted.

"You are the Secret Keeper of the new location, am I correct?"

"Nope." Harkness said with such false cheer it made Voldemort quite nauseous. And as he tried to read the truth behind the word, all he saw was a vision of a short-haired, big-eared man in a leather jacket, grinning maniacally and saying the same word in the same tone, as if Harkness was purposefully and malevolently mimicking this memory.

"You lie." Voldemort insisted.

"Nope." Same vision of the same man... continuing the same conversation so much more smugly, though Voldemort only saw the one side of the remembered conversation.

"_TELL ME WHERE HARRY POTTER IS!_" Voldemort snarled.

"Nope." though the tone was slightly more sombre now, Harkness was grinning entirely too much, especially considering his injuries... and the vision was still the same. Infinitely more infuriating for the fact that it seemed to hold some kind of inside joke to Harkness' mind.

"_Crucio!_" Voldemort yelled, and that wiped the smirk off Harkness' face. Strangely, however, as Voldemort tried to read him, even now he was guarded. The face in the memory had merely changed to a man with fair hair in a Muggle suit... laughing.

x x x

Harry positively leapt to his feet. Which, from lying down on a couch, was quite an achievement when he wasn't thinking about it in the slightest.

He felt the cold sweat and sickening chill of the vision fading, though the details themselves remained perfectly intact. He stared around the room wildly, only vaguely aware of the strange looks that Ron, Hermione and Draco were giving him. His gaze settled on Jack- past-Jack, older-looking-Jack- and he felt tears begin to well up in his eyes.

"Bad dream?" Jack asked idly, not in the least startled by the sudden movement. Not seeming disturbed by Harry's behaviour the way his friends were.

Harry opened his mouth, couldn't find words so he shut it, then after a second he opened his mouth to try again... when the door positively flew open, banging violently into the kitchen counter behind it. And Ianto Jones stormed in like the human embodiment of all hell's wrath.

Harry, who still felt the echoes of Voldemort's emotions from the vision, still felt the absolute _glee_ of inflicting pain intermingled with the raging fury of having such an uncooperative victim... Harry wanted to run away and hide. And pray to every deity that had ever been invented, and several that hadn't yet, that Ianto Jones never find him.

Except Ianto didn't pay him the least bit of attention. "Draco." he said with cold fury.

"Y-yes?" Draco asked, looking very much like a particularly small and helpless rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

"I'm going to break into Malfoy Manor. You're going to help me."

"Ianto, mate, we're _all_ going to help." Owen Harper said, almost nervously, from the doorway. Ianto did not take any notice, instead all his attention was focused on Draco.

"I- I can't-" Draco began.

"You don't have to go with me. You do have to get me in without being caught."

"That's the problem." Draco said hastily, "The security there's so tight... you're guaranteed to be caught."

Ianto blinked, "Alright then, I'll get caught. You have to get me out."

Draco shook his head, "I can't! Why do you even want to?"

"To rescue Jack." Harry said quietly. The most immediate side-effects of his vision were fading now, and while he still felt terrible for what he had witnessed, the rational thought that Ianto probably wouldn't try to kill him just for seeing it had finally kicked in.

Ianto turned to face him, surprise written across his face.

"I'm sorry." Harry said nervously, "I- I saw- I... you really don't want to know."

"Tell me." Ianto insisted.

"Bellatrix Lestrange was torturing him." Harry whispered. Draco visibly cringed, clearly guessing where that could lead. "It was horrible, I-" he felt nauseous just remembering the details he had witness, "I can't... but he- he just kept back-talking. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was a masochist."

"Clearly you don't know better, Potter." Draco drawled, "Anyone who brazenly flirts with Bella..."

"You didn't see what she did!" Harry snapped, turning on him, "It was..."

"Messy?" Draco suggested. Harry shuddered. "I walked in on one of her 'games' once, back before I faked my death." Draco insisted, "I know what she's capable of."

"We have to get him back." Ianto insisted.

"You've got a free pass in." Draco pointed out, "It's getting out again that's the hard part."

Ianto frowned, some of the immediate rage had subsided, and he was clearly trying to think of a solution to the problem.

"Voldemort ordered Lestrange not to kill him." Harry pointed out, "He's certain Jack knows where I am, and that's what he wants."

"In a way, that's worse." Ianto said, almost despairingly, "If they just killed him and disposed of the body..."

"Not everyone here knows that Secret, Ianto." Hermione observed, with a pointed nod in the direction of Draco, who was looking suitably confused given the circumstances.

Ianto shrugged, and announced bluntly, "Jack can't die."

Draco blinked, stunned. The magical act of the Secret being shared with him made him absolutely certain of the truthfulness of it- Harry knew because Hermione had told him how it worked when they'd made their own plan a Secret- but that didn't take away from the shock value.

After a moment, Draco shook his head, "That's worse! There are things healing spells won't fix... if he could endure them... that's _much_ worse, I promise you!"

Ianto was beginning to shake now, visibly distressed. He slowly sank down into the nearest chair, his head resting in his hands, elbows on his knees. "This is all my fault." he practically sobbed, "If I hadn't gone and made that deal with Pansy in the first place. I traded one afternoon class playing practice victim for a bunch of kids who don't even want to learn the Cruciatus curse for god knows how long at the mercy of a pair of complete psychopaths who know he has something they want."

"The Cruciatus Curse?" Hermione asked with shock, "They're _teaching that in class!_ That's _disgusting!_"

Ianto slowly looked up at her, peering over his hands, "I bet it's better than what's happening to him now."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Doesn't do anyone any good thinking about what they could have done differently." past-Jack said, "You can only change the past when it's not your own."

Ianto shuddered slightly, "I hate this. There has to be a way to get him out of there."

"Well, short of offering to trade in the Boy Wonder here, I can't think how." Owen said cheerfully, indicating Harry.

Harry stared, somewhat affronted. He _did_ know who Owen had just compared him to. Batman was about the only comic book Dudley had been allowed, as it was just a rich guy with cool gadgets, rather than superpowers, and Harry had gotten to read the comics Dudley had finished with and thrown away. (Who throws away comics? Don't people trade those? Not Dudley, apparently.)

A bit more worryingly, Ianto genuinely appeared to be considering Owen's joking suggestion. But then he shook his head and resumed just being miserable. "Can't do that." he muttered, as if wishing he was just immoral enough to try it.

Harry looked across at the others in the room. "We'll find a way to get him out of there." he said with determination.

"Godric's Hollow can wait." Hermione agreed with a nod, "This is far more important."

"Aside from anything else, he _does_ know where we are." Ron pointed out.

An eerie silence fell at those words, and even Ianto looked uncomfortable now, "And he physically can tell." Ianto said slowly, "He- he wouldn't _want_ to, but..."

"He is the Secret Keeper for this place." Harry said, frowning, "Voldemort already knows that much."

Ianto scowled at him, "How?"

"There... there was a look in his eyes- in Jack's eyes- when Voldemort said he believed Jack could tell him where I was. Like... like he was noticing the exact wording." Harry said carefully, "Like saying he just _knew_ wasn't good enough but that he _could say _ was different. I would never have noticed, but Voldemort saw it."

Ianto looked disgusted, and swore under his breath, "We need to leave the flat." he said, "I don't think for a second that Jack would willingly tell him, but..."

"But you can never be too paranoid." Draco said brightly, "And you're not Slytherin, why?"

Ianto smirked morbidly across at Draco, "Because Jack."

x x x

Jack's past-self had very little trouble finding a new place to stay. Harry, however, had taken the Slytherin mantra of 'you can never be too paranoid' to heart, and had chosen not to stick around in case his mere presence attracted unwanted attention... since now, they were no longer under the protection of the Fidelius charm. Now they could be found, and it would be better if he was not found in their presence. Especially since Ianto was meant to be pretending to be a Death Eater.

So, deciding to stay within comms range of Cardiff, Hermione had the genius idea of a camp site her parents used to take her to, in the Forest of Dean. Tosh had told them they would be just at the edge of range there, able to stay in touch while still being as far away as possible.

The first two nights camping were kind of fun, even with the detailed planning sessions in the evenings, which were conducted via commlinks with the group in Cardiff, and during which they went over and eventually rejected several ideas for how to get safely in and our of both Malfoy Manor and Gringotts.

By the third night, the novelty of camping, even wizarding style, had worn off, and they were getting bored.

Jack's apartment had contained a television, which Ron had been fascinated with and Harry hadn't really minded but it had helped distract him when his thoughts had devolved into too circular a pattern. Hermione and Draco were still content just to read, but the two Gryffindor boys were getting restless, which led to indirect provocation of arguments with Draco, which in turn triggered backhanded sniped from Hermione that all three should grow up.

Within five days, it was too much.

"Let's just go to Godric's Hollow." Hermione suggested, "Get out of the tent, do something practical, get this... testosterone out of your systems."

"Do I want to ask what she means?" Draco asked Harry.

Harry snorted, "As long as you never ask Jack..."

"Oh no." Draco muttered, "That bad?"

"It's a hormone in the male body that makes you all a bunch of competitive idiots." Hermione announced clearly.

"Seriously, though... don't ever ask Jack." Harry insisted.

Draco wisely didn't ask why not.

x x x

Jack sat alone in the darkness of a dungeon in Malfoy Manor. He was chained to the wall, but at least the Death Eaters seemed to have the common decency to chain him loosely enough that he could lie down on the cold floor if he wanted to.

The Master had left him hanging from the ceiling during the year that never was... and left the heating on full, so Jack died four times in the night of dehydration. Compared to that, Voldemort was positively kind. He had even healed the damage Bellatrix had done... painfully. Healing spells that were even more agonising than the damage they reversed... even more torturous than if Jack had been allowed to die and come back.

But at least his body was whole, now.

And it horrified him to realise that the Death Eaters could do this to anyone. Any victim of their choosing could be tortured to the brink of death, then dragged back for more... crying and screaming at the healing as much as at the torture itself.

But now, for the last week, Jack's torture had been psychological. He honestly hadn't anticipated such refined techniques from the man who had only previously been known to use Unforgivable curses for combat and torture. He was _almost_ impressed. Voldemort cordially, almost gleefully, and always in person, came into his holding cell every day and told him the names of the Muggles and Muggle-borns and traitors murdered, and how they died.

It was a daily list, and it was rarely short.

Voldemort's insinuation was that this could all be stopped if Jack just turned Harry over to him. Jack never saw it that way. Oh, Voldemort had been right to see the horror and disgust in his reaction to the deaths of the innocent... but he was entirely wrong if he thought it was a reason for Jack to surrender.

Jack had lived a long life, and he had met many people during it. Every name he heard could be connected to someone he had once known. A shared surname or first name. A rare few that matched up on both accounts. Rarer still, a more distant connection like a friend of someone he knew. Always, he recognised something in the names. Always, he pictured the person he associated them with and vowed vengeance on their behalf.

It was the only way to fight this kind of tactic. To see it as the opposite of its intended meaning.

Bellatrix Lestrange broke out the whip and knives, Jack played masochist, flirted blatantly, and corrected her technique with the whip... she held it too tight and moved her arm too forcefully with it, she was wielding a bullwhip like she thought it was a riding crop, and it did reduce the efficiency. Not that she listened to him, for which he was silently grateful.

His default reaction to the Cruciatus Curse was to laugh whenever it was released. It was hard to do, but he had learned from the best sadists... the Master had never appreciated it when Jack resurrected from a particularly gruesome death and then promptly started laughing at him for it, either.

Today, however, Voldemort entered the cell empty handed. No scroll containing a list of names of the dead. Today would be different, then. Jack felt a genuine sense of anticipation at the start of a new game. A new challenge for him to beat. A new way to humiliate his captor.

Voldemort made a big deal of a slow ominous approach across the small room, before raising his wand and pointing it squarely at Jack's face, standing over his prisoner so the tip of the weapon almost touched his forehead.

Jack slowly shifted from sitting to kneeling, smirking unrepentantly as he announced, "The symbolism's killing me here."

Voldemort's eyes flashed with purest hatred, and then he snarled, "Legilimens."

Jack knew Voldemort could read minds at the best of times... activating the Legilimens spell as well only enhanced that. It felt like searing hot blades plunging into his skull, and something cold and scaled wrapping around his consciousness... trying to choke him.

He immediately, instinctively, drew upon his most powerful mental shields. His most explicit sexual encounters with John Hart- those were the most violent and off-putting normally- and he felt the icy serpent around his mind recoil at the images.

But then tearing and burning, the blades like wicked talons in his mind, plunged deeper, drew out the less pleasant memories directly associated with his shields. John Hart was a fantastic lay, and one of the most depraved sadomasochistic lovers Jack had ever had... but he was also a dangerous psychopath. The fights, both physical and verbal- words cut like daggers, worse than any injury to his body- and the cold cruelty. The calculating, plotting... the times he had drugged Jack and humiliated him.

"Is this fantasy? I doubt it, or I would not be able to use it." Voldemort's voice echoed in the back of his mind, but the memories continued. Hart's first murder... or the first one Jack had witnessed... it had been torture for Jack, he had cared so deeply for the victim, and that had been half of John's reason to kill them... 'You deserve better'.

_You deserve the monster who lived for you. Not the good person who died for you._

"So much older than you look... fascinating." Voldemort whispered.

Missions... assassinations. The absolute glee Jack himself had taken in the murder of those who were designated his enemies. Before he knew how to be a better man... he had loved it. The bloodlust, the passion and... and the monster who lived for him.

The monster who murdered Jack's love and then stole that emotion for himself.

Voldemort chuckled darkly, releasing the coils around Jack's mind a moment... not enough to free him of the pain, but enough to let him see the real world through it. "I feel as if this is only the beginning of a very long story."

"Don't expect to get all of it." Jack ground out through gritted teeth.

The spell intensified, and he was lost in the past again. This time he tried to fight back. Tried to throw the memories Voldemort unearthed back at him in a way that would hurt. Remember pain, force his assailant to feel it as well. It worked for a moment, the memory of the loss of his brother did make Voldemort flinch... but it didn't last.

_It was a cold night, huddled for warmth and drinking what he later discovered was another spiked drink John had given him... there was something different about this mission. John was behaving oddly. Jack was still new to this style of mission, this would be his first assassination. He was looking forward to it._

_"What did you give me this time?" he asked John._

_"It'll take the chill off." John answered with all false idleness._

_"Will I wake up on Risia Six in my underwear if I finish the bottle?"_

_"No. You think I'm dumb enough to do that again?"_

_Jack chuckled and finished the strangely sweet drink. It was a different kind of sweetness from anything he had tasted before. And there was something odd about the room, too. John had DONE something. It made him uneasy._

_But then they spent the night together, and Jack woke up in a fantastic mood to murder an alien senator who timelines said should have died a week ago already anyway._

Jack thought so little of it, but then Voldemort released him from the memory in a state of shock as if someone has just dumped a bucket of ice over him. "You have no idea what you drank." Voldemort said with a tone of shock.

"What was it? Amortentia?" Jack asked blithely, "Because I wouldn't put it past him. And actually, it would explain the two years after that a whole lot better."

Voldemort snorted in disgust, and returned to the default setting of, "_Crucio!_"

x x x

"How am I meant to find him, then?" Severus positively growled at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, who was entirely too chirpy and pleasant for the situation. Severus would swear that if the portrait was still flesh, or in any way capable of interacting physically with the real world anymore, it would be offering him sherbet lemons. "Your prediction was inaccurate. The Weasley boy has NOT returned to the known world, and without some form of contact, there is no way I can trace the device you gave him."

"I am quite sure that, given time, all will work out as it should." Albus' portrait said calmly.

"Admit it, old man. You were wrong." Severus growled, "Ronald Weasley may be as stupid as the worst of Gryffindor, yet he is still as loyal as a love-struck puppy in Hufflepuff."

The portrait did hesitate. Its eyes did waver. "There is still an alternative."

"Indeed?" Severus folded his arms and scowled up at the portrait, waiting for it to explain itself.

"If no one else in this world can find Harry, a fact for which I must say I am in fact quite grateful, then there is only one person I believe you will need to contact."

Severus had never really approved of Albus' cryptic nature when the man had been alive. He seemed to have become much worse now he no longer needed to fear snapping Severus' patience and winding up dead.

It took all Severus' willpower not to snarl viciously as he asked the question he knew perfectly well the portrait wanted to hear, "Who?"

x x x


	116. What Lies Beneath

x x x

**Chapter 116: What Lies Beneath**

x x x

It was driving Jack slowly insane to know that something Voldemort had seen in his memory was apparently far more disturbing than he had ever felt before, that Voldemort of all people understood it, and also understood his frustration enough to withhold the information and rub metaphorical salt in the wounds of his ignorance and confusion.

Jack regarded the Dark Lord coldly, as he prepared for another session of torture. The emotional kind involving lists of the dead, by the look of it. "If I tell you where I last saw Harry Potter, and exactly the Secret to get there, will you tell me why my memories upset your delicate sensibilities? I've already figured out it's not the gratuitous sex, which I honestly did expect to bother you a bit."

"I have no interest in such trivial things." Voldemort dismissed idly.

"Bah, you're unimaginative!" Jack laughed, "The last psychopath to torture me and rape my mind turned my _sexual_ memories against me. You just went for the background details. Details I learned to live with a century ago!"

"A century?"

"You've been paying attention to timelines, in here, haven't you?" Jack asked, tapping the side of his head. Sure, there was a great big gap where all that even Jack could think during these sessions of entirely unwilling telepathic intrusion was the phrase '**_BAD WOLF_**' over and over again like someone was painting graffiti on the inside of his brain. Even Voldemort had eventually figured out Jack wasn't responsible for _that_ mental block- but he had been able to follow Jack's personal timeline fairly clearly.

He had figured out that Jack had lived through the entire twentieth century, though those '**_BAD WOLF_**' blocks were all over every death Jack had ever suffered... and boy did that trigger some seriously _genuine_ laughter from Jack, rather than the forced attempt to mock his torturer.

Jack really needed the relief of this sick amusement at Voldemort's expense, because the telepathy was one of the worst tortures Jack could remember experiencing. Not only did Voldemort drag out Jack's worst memories, but he inflicted real and terrible pain in the process.

Now, however, Voldemort looked entirely too pleased, as he smiled coldly, "I would tell you what I recognised in your memory. Only if you tell me where Harry Potter is."

Jack blinked once, and then slowly turned his head to the side, not looking at Voldemort. He knew his own team well enough to genuinely believe that they would have evacuated their safe house the moment they knew he had been taken prisoner. He still didn't want to take the chance. He had overestimated those he trusted before.

He really wanted to know, but it wasn't worth the risk.

Voldemort was obviously disappointed. It wasn't a violent outburst, more resigned, "You really are almost more trouble than you're worth, Harkness."

Jack grinned up at him unrepentantly, "Thanks. That's the nicest thing you've said to me all day."

x x x

Looking like a Muggle wasn't that bad. Draco tried very hard not to fidget at the hair that fell in his face. It was mousey brown, and just a little bit too long. A look in the mirror earlier had told him that the annoyingly androgynous Muggle boy he was impersonating also had brown eyes, and the sort of unobtrusive look of the best Hufflepuffs in his own year. Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, the ones that just _fail_ to stand out.

Granger was just as mousey and ordinary as Draco, but a slightly taller girl who was probably the older sister of the boy Draco was impersonating. Weasley currently resembled very little more than an eighteen-year-old Owen Harper. It wasn't actually Owen- who was still only fifteen and looked every bit as immature- but it was that slightly rat-like smarmy look with beady black eyes.

Potter was blonde, female, and trying very hard to pretend she didn't keep glancing down at her chest. She was also almost indecently attractive. It was actually Potter's own idea. "Everyone's going to be looking for someone who doesn't want to be seen. A St Trinians drop-out will be the last thing they'd expect." he had explained... right before chatting up the Muggle girl and stealing a strand of her hair. Draco had been there when it happened, and been thoroughly surprised that Harry Potter of all people could act so damned confident in the presence of someone that hot. Then again, he'd spent years as Jack's friend, ignoring _that_ hotness.

"I can't believe you just did that, mate!" Weasley said in amazement.

"I'm only embarrassed around girls I like. Like your sister." Potter retaliated, grinning.

"St Trinians?" Draco asked.

"Muggle movies." Hermione explained, grinning, "I loved that show when I was growing up... you know, while I still empathised with the first-years. Reckon we should get you a hockey stick?"

"_NO!_" the voice of Ianto Jones snapped over the commlink, "For the love of god, no!" Then there had been a long pause, followed by an embarrassed mutter of, "And never tell Jack."

Draco stared at the three Gryffindors he had been forced to live and cooperate with, "Hockey sticks?" he asked, "Scary thing is, I can see how that would work."

Now they were walking up the snow-covered road in the sleepy little town of Godric's Hollow. Draco had heard about it, of course, but he had never had any reason to visit. None of his relatives or their friends lived here, for the obvious reason that only about half of its inhabitants were magical. It was quaint, like Hogsmeade, but the magic, while still clearly there to those who knew how to see it, was far more subtle.

They wandered down towards the town centre, where a war memorial stood. "I've heard of this. Come on, let's look closer." Weasley announced, grabbing Potter's arm... blushing furiously, and letting go, then remembering it was really his best- very _male_- friend, and grabbed her arm again and dragged her over to the war memorial.

"You think this is funny..." Draco said, to Granger, who was trying very hard not to giggle at the other two, "You should have seen Vince and Greg last year."

Granger gave him a sideways look, probably surprised at the use of not only first names but abbreviated first names for his former cronies. In truth, he did it especially _because_ it wasn't normal for him.

"What is it, anyway?" she asked, nodding to the memorial.

"It's really a statue under disillusionment." Draco shrugged, "Go join them if you like, but I'm staying back here where the paranoia Jack instilled in me doesn't take hold."

"What did he do?" she asked sceptically.

"Told me a story."

"Oh dear."

"Not that kind of story. The kind with monsters."

"And now you're scared of statues?"

"And flickering lights."

Granger laughed.

"Well, not scared, really... just wary." he shrugged.

Granger shrugged, and looked over at Potter and Weasley, smiling, "She looks happy. In a sad kind of way."

Draco wanted to question her on pronouns, but guessed it was probably because they hadn't come up with fake names and she didn't want to call her friend 'Harry' in public, given the number of psychopaths out to kill anyone they might delude themselves into thinking could possibly be Harry Potter. No, they hadn't made up fake names, but Draco had already exhausted the dumb-blonde jokes... to which Potter had retaliated with the declaration that gender was irrelevant to those jokes and at least she wasn't a natural blonde... because Polyjuice didn't count as natural, though the girl he looked like had to be because Polyjuice also wouldn't have shown the dye if she had used it.

"I expect so." Draco agreed, "You do know what that memorial is for, don't you?"

Granger turned to look at him with dawning comprehension. Every Pureblood knew there was a statue of the Potters family in the middle of Godric's Hollow, commemorating the night they lost their lives and somehow caused the Dark Lord to fall. Clearly Granger hadn't read that part, but now it was obvious to her.

"Please don't make me go in the graveyard. I don't care if she wants to see them, I don't want to go there." Draco said quietly, while Weasley and Potter talked in front of the memorial statue.

"Why not?" Granger asked.

"The story Jack told me." he shrugged a but defensively.

"You're going to have to share that sometime, now." she observed pointedly.

"Some time, yes." Draco conceded.

But when Weasley and Potter re-joined them, Potter would insist on going to the graveyard. Draco was having none of it, and ended up sulking by the church wall while the other three wandered around pretending the dead could care. He was really grateful that this wasn't one of those extravagant graveyards with over the top statues. It was small for the size and age of the town it serviced, so it was purely functional.

Jack really had scared the hell out of him with all those stories about the monsters that didn't need magic. Shadows that could eat people, statues that moved when you weren't looking, and Muggle machines that wanted to steal your brain.

It was the fact they _weren't_ magical that scared Draco the most. Magic, he had been raised to believe, was all-powerful, and nothing should ever be a real threat to a wizard if it didn't live off magic. That was probably why the first one Jack told him was the Muggle machines, to prove to him that magic could not be used as an alternate explanation. And the stories also came with detailed descriptions of the monsters; how to avoid them if he ever had the misfortune of encountering them. Might as well have been extra credit for Defence Against the Dark Arts... with added dramatic flair, obviously, because it had been Jack doing the talking.

A creeping sense of being watched, and he glanced over at the graveyard, but saw nothing there. The three Gryffindors were further in, probably getting lost while still trying to find the Potters' graves.

A quick glance around showed him still nothing. Especially no statues, he reminded himself.

Most magic for detecting others acted upon what you were trying to detect, and was therefore stupid if you wanted them not to noticed that you had noticed them. There were a couple of very dark spells that partially transfigured the caster's own eyes or ears, in a way that let them see the invisible or hear the most stealthy. With his wand up his sleeve, and no words, he jerked his arm as if it was a compulsive move instead of a spell cast, and focused his mind on the incantation.

The spell was affectionately referred to as Vampire's Sight, and it did not in fact allow you to see through invisibility spells. What it did was let you _see_ the blood of other living things, regardless of such concealments. Even through solid walls. An expert of the spell could actually identify a person they knew by the sight of their blood-signature alone.

Just as the D.A. has learned, it was willpower that counted most, and Draco could now see... a shape. It was hidden in the bushes, low to the ground. All he could see was the shape of a magical creature or being, low to the ground. Its blood was cold, and it looked very much like a coiled snake.

Draco idly cast his gaze into the dark of the graveyard, and could make out the three human figures gathered in a small group, one crouched down, several feet beyond normal range of normal human sight. He glanced back towards the road, eyes sweeping over the probably-a-snake, and seeing that it hadn't moved, before he broke the spell and rubbed his yes. That bloody _hurt_. It always hurt, that was why even dark wizards didn't use it unless they had to. Most wouldn't even _consider_ using a spell that caused pain to the _caster_.

Not for the first time, he kind of wished his allies had trusted him with one of those Muggle communication devices. He wouldn't have been bothered by a snake in the bushes... if it hadn't been a _magical_ snake. Eventually, reluctantly, he made his way into the graveyard, towards the three Gryffindors.

"Hey! I'm freezing my arse off out here!" he called as he approached them, "Can't we go inside?"

The looks of confusion they gave him were priceless... for all of half a second, before Potter and Granger caught on, and both of them began to look more scared than confused. Weasley remained confused until he glanced at Granger and realised from her expression he was meant to be afraid as well.

"We just have one more stop to make, then we can go home." Granger reassured him.

Of course... the only reason they had come here in the first place- besides Potter being sentimental- was to meet Bathilda Bagshot. Because apparently she knew Dumbledore, and might be able to shed some light on the cryptic hints at a plan that he had left for them. It was all a very vague and half-assed plan, in Draco's opinion... but a half-assed plan was better than none at all, at this stage in the game.

"Well make it quick, or we'll catch our death out here." he snapped.

"If you're that cold, you can hug me. Shared body heat works wonders." Potter said with an almost evil grin. Except there was a glint of calculation in her eyes as well, so Draco warily allowed her to wrap an arm around him and hug him close. Close enough that no one spying on them should have been able to hear when she whispered in his ear, "What is it?"

He turned his head to also whisper in her ear, "Magical snake spying on us." To anyone watching, they were close enough that it would probably look like they were a bloody _couple_. Girls that gorgeous do _not_ let you get that far into their personal space if you aren't dating them.

She whispered, "Nagini?"

He was startled by this very real possibility that he hadn't considered, and looked up at her. "Possibly." he said, not bothering to whisper... though he did have the presence of mind to turn the word into an innuendo, to try to hold together the illusion for their spy.

Potter grinned at him, "Let's kill it." she said brightly.

"Who are you, and what have you done to my girlfriend?" Draco demanded mockingly. Killing the Dark Lord's familiar, while intensely satisfying and apparently necessary for their plan, would still be incredibly dangerous. If this even was her.

"You want me to invoke the pun?" Potter asked. Yes, 'I'm serious' had been said enough in Sirius Black's presence to have become a running joke now.

"Not especially." Draco muttered, pulling away from her, "Come on, let's go."

He distinctly heard Weasley mutter to Granger, as they walked away, "That's disgusting." and Granger just giggled in response.

x x x

Staying close to Draco, so it looked like she was talking to him, Harry tapped her commlink, and asked, "Hey, anyone home?"

A reply came from Owen Harper, "Who the bloody hell is this."

"Jack's jealous girlfriend." Harry answered.

"Which one?" Ianto asked, and Harry could also hear Owen's confused demands to know what this meant, but was quite happy to leave him in the dark as she answered.

"Not the natural blond." Draco pulled a disgusted face at that, but didn't answer.

"Should we be calling you Harriet, or Harrietta, now?" Ianto asked, a smirk clearly audible in his voice.

"We might need a killer. Any suggestions?"

"Ah, that." Ianto said flatly, "One name leaps, cackling gleefully, to mind... but I'm not sure you'd want him."

"Can he be worse than Jack?" Harry asked warily.

"In _every_ way." Ianto said with emphasis. "And then some."

"Who, what, why, where, when?!" Owen demanded. Ianto merely shushed him.

"There's an alternative... possibly." Ianto offered, "I have some poison."

"That... might not work here. I'm not sure." Harry glanced behind her, but didn't see anything as they walked up the snowy road. "Can you bring both, just in case?"

"You don't really want to meet him." Ianto insisted, "He makes Owen look polite, Jack look modest, and the Dark Lord look sane."

Harry missed a step, "How bad is it that I'm really curious, now?"

"Extremely." Ianto answered, again the smirk was audible, "I'll bring the poison... then if it's not enough I'll call him. As a last resort. Where are you, anyway?"

"Godric's Hollow. Bowman Lane, headed north." Harry answered.

"You know, they wanted to rename it Potters' Lane, but the Quidditch Union rallied to keep its current name, and funded the memorial statue instead." Ianto said idly, in a tone of one only half paying attention to what he was saying. Like he was now preparing to leave and join them.

"Why?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Because it was originally named after Bowman Wright, the inventor of the Golden Snitch." Ianto explained.

"Do you really know _everything_?" Owen demanded over the comms.

"Yes, of course I do." Ianto said, till not paying very much attention, "Alright, I'm on my way, see you in a minute."

"You alright?" he heard Hermione say, and looked around to see Draco was looking behind them.

"Yeah. The real problem is far less worrying than Jack's horror story. I just... give me a second." Harry wasn't sure what he did, but it might have been a spell the way he moved his arm. Then he blinked, cringing and covering his eyes, before leaning close enough to whisper to Harry, "It is following us."

"I'll second the question... you okay?" Harry asked.

"The spell to see it hurts my eyes." he said it just quietly enough that their stalker wouldn't hear it, but Hermione and Ron still did.

"Why did you even use it in the first place?!" Hermione demanded, horrified.

"Because I was paranoid about the horror story."

"You _really _ need to explain that one, sometime." Hermione insisted.

"I already promised I would." Draco defended.

x x x

Draco held back as the three Gryffindors all went and read the plaque on the ruined Potter house. So much for impersonating Muggles... could they not see the Muggle repelling and Muggle-specific Disillusionment charms all around it? He glanced back with the Vampire's Sight spell, and saw the cold-blooded creature- now standing upright somehow- was much closer. He could see it with his natural sight now, like a huddled human figure wearing far too many layers of ragged clothes.

He couldn't quite think of a suitable 'pet-name' that would be obvious to them but not their enemies, to call Potter's attention, so instead he simply called, "Hey, girls!" mentally including Weasley in the generalisation. They all looked at him, and he nodded to the cold-blooded creature.

It stopped before them, and after a moment of silence that felt eerily like a standoff it raised a hand and beckoned them towards it. In spite of the pain, Draco hadn't broken the Vampire's Sight spell, and what he saw now horrified him. There was no blood in its arm. Or its legs. The blood pulsed cold in the centre of its body, and its head... and he could just make out the coiled shape _inside _ the humanoid shape.

Draco rubbed at his eyes, breaking the spell, and Potter looked at him for suggestions.

Draco didn't make any suggestions, instead he turned his arm to aim the hidden wand at the huddled figure and cast Stupefy with all his strength. It crumpled to the ground.

"Reason for that?" Ianto Jones' voice asked idly from nearby. They were all startled to see him.

"It's not human." Draco said shakily, "It's... it's not even human-shaped, it's _wearing_ a human shape."

"Invasion of the body snatchers?" Ianto asked, amused. He warily approached the creature, and pulled back its hood.

"That's Bathilda Bagshot!" Granger squeaked loudly.

Ianto checked Bathilda over, and frowned, "No... it's something wearing her corpse."

"Sick!" Weasley exclaimed.

"Extremely." Ianto agreed, glancing up at them and his eyes landing on Potter, "Harriet?"

"Yes." she folded her arms across her chest in entirely the wrong way to look defensive.

Ianto grinned, "You should be grateful I didn't bring my... acquaintance. He likes blondes."

That was said in such an _ominous_ way, and Potter shuddered slightly at the thought, "Who is he?"

Ianto grinned with a great deal of false cheer, "Did I not tell you that I've been two-timing Jack with his evil ex who may or may not in fact be the devil... and that Jack knows, and may or may not be planning to suggest a threesome."

Draco snorted, "And here I was afraid you'd be jealous when he slept with me!"

"Don't be coy Draco." Ianto said idly, "We both know there was no sleeping involved."

"I am going to Obliviate myself tonight." Ron said flatly. Except he was grinning entirely too much to really mean it.

"Right. What's controlling her?" Potter asked, nodding to Bathilda's body.

Draco stepped up next to Ianto, "This won't be pretty." he announced, before casting a flaying spell on the body. It split open along a clean line up the middle, from navel to skull, revealing an unconscious serpent _inside_ the flesh and skin, replacing the vital organs and bone structure. It was definitely Nagini, he would recognise that monstrous serpent anywhere.

"All my carefully laid plans to poison her food..." Ianto said sadly, pulling out a vial of vivid green liquid, "Oh well." He conjured a dagger out of thin air, and dripped the liquid onto it, before stabbing the snake through the head quite unceremoniously. As if this was a perfectly ordinary, every-day sort of occurrence for him.

"What was that?" Harry asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Basilisk venom." Ianto said, "Owen drained the venom sacs from the one in the Chamber of Secrets when we first found the place, and I don't think I want to know what he plans for the rest of it. I was going to poison Nagini's food, but this works out better."

"Two down." Draco said.

There was a strangely amused smile on Ianto's face at those words, before he tilted his head to ask Potter, "One to go?" She nodded.

"We want to search the house." Potter indicated the ruined building, "Then we should get out of here."

Draco nodded down to the corpse, and the snake now also dead inside it, "What should we do with this?"

"Incinerate it." Ianto said flatly, "The venom did its damage, we don't need it anymore."

"Bathilda deserves better." Hermione said, in an insistent tone that came close to Gwen on one of her crusades.

"This is war." Ianto looked up at her, "A lot of people have died and been disposed of in much less kind ways. Better to burn her than to let anyone who knew her see what Nagini did to her. I'll take care of it, I'm good at cleaning up this kind of mess."

"I dread to think." Draco deadpanned, smirking.

"Believe it or not, it's in my _job description_." Ianto laughed.

Granger shook her head in horror, while Weasley just gaped. Potter, on the other hand, "It is a shame... but I think Ianto's right."

x x x


	117. The Girl Who Waited

x x x

**Chapter 117: The Girl Who Waited**

x x x

Ottery St. Catchpole was a quiet town on the south coast of England. Fred and George had visited for the holidays, but they weren't able to communicate with Harry, even with the Muggle gadgets that were supposed to help them talk over long distances without using detectable magic. The distances these things worked over weren't _that_ long.

They got updates from Gwen Cooper, occasionally, because she was doing something in London- spying, or something- and London was close enough. So wherever Harry was, it was further away than London... that didn't rule out very much, really.

Ginny knew that Harry was working on something very important, and this morning she had been told they were one step closer. That felt good to know, but she didn't know _what_ was going on, or how long it would take.

She worried for his safety, and wished she could be there to help him.

The holidays were nearly over, and all she knew for certain was something good had happened just before New Year's. Something nobody was reporting. It wasn't in the official news as the bad thing the Death Eaters would try to make it out to be. It wasn't even on Potterwatch. No word, except Gwen's.

Oh, she trusted Gwen. Knew the girl was good and kind, and didn't lie. If she didn't want to tell you something, she just told you she didn't want to tell, sometimes she even told you _why_ she shouldn't tell. She didn't do this silly dance around the truth like Harkness and Jones. Didn't outright lie like Fred and George (though they were terrible at it, and she always saw through it). Gwen was honest.

The problem was, she has no hint as to what had happened. Because nothing changed.

One step closer... what could it mean?

All she could do was wait, and hope.

She had faith in Harry.

x x x

"Things are moving fast." John said softly.

Ianto had tried to pretend he didn't need this man, but that just wasn't true. He would rather have Jack, but he did need _someone _ who understood. Owen didn't understand- or just didn't care- and there was no way either of the girls- especially Gwen- would be able to comprehend what he was going through, either. It didn't really hurt that John's way of showing sympathy was mostly sexual... he still felt the emotional reassurance as well.

"Time has a schedule, and it finds unpleasant ways to keep to that schedule." John continued, "You should be careful."

"What changed?" Ianto asked.

"I'm not sure. Just... leave the bank robbery off until Easter, yeah?"

"How do you know-"

"Original timeline. I read the history, remember?"

"Why delay a victory?" Ianto asked sceptically.

"If you don't delay it, it might not be a victory, that's why." John said simply, "If this pathetic impersonation of a Dark Lord figures out what you're doing, he could change his plans."

"Might... could... you don't really know, do you?"

"Rule five of time travel; if it isn't broken, don't try to fix it. You're just likely to make it worse."

"Jack only ever told me the first two rules." Ianto said with surprise.

John smirked, "Well, I won't spoil the surprise. Rule three's where the fun starts."

"What's rule three, then?" Ianto asked idly, "'If it moves, have sex with it... but not before a DNA test'?"

"You say that like there's something wrong with incest. It's in-_breeding _ that causes all the problems."

"I hate you right now."

"Of course you do."

x x x

Ianto was on the train back to Hogwarts, with Owen, Neville, and Ginny. He was shocked to see that he had been accepted again by the leaders of the D.A., as if they had gone and had a meeting over Christmas, and come to the conclusion that he wasn't that bad, because he had only acted out of love when he betrayed everyone else to try to save Jack.

Of course they didn't _trust _ him, but they weren't being cruel to him anymore.

He was listening to Owen and Gwen chatting on the comms. Well, Gwen was doing the chatting, Owen was grunting at appropriate moments, to prove he was still 'listening'. Honestly, she was being entirely too cheerful.

Ianto tapped his own commlink, and asked bluntly, "Alright, who was it?"

Gwen's blank response sounded vaguely like, "Huh?"

"You're far too cheerful for a person who hasn't been getting any in five years." Ianto answered, "So who was it?"

Gwen stammered in shock, "I- nobody! I just... well, I _saw _ Rhys. Just saw him, hanging out down the shops with his old mates, having a laugh. That's all."

"And now you're lying." Ianto said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Ianto, I have not been shagging anyone!" Gwen exclaimed.

"No, that part I believe, now." Ianto agreed, "You didn't _just _ see your future-fiance, though, did you?"

The silence that followed this was so tense you probably couldn't cut it with a lightsaber (and Tosh was working on inventing one of those by combining binding charms and lasers, just to prove she could). Finally, Gwen answered, "Alright, I talked to him. Just a bit."

"She flirted blatantly, acted completely ridiculous, made all his friends laugh at them both, and she's still in a good mood because of it." Tosh informed them efficiently. Even over the comms, Ianto could just _feel _ Gwen glowering at her for revealing this.

"I was just so happy to see him, that's all." she said defensively.

"Gwen." Ianto said in a deliberately calm and reasonable tone, "You're on the Death Eaters' most wanted list. You're number twelve, right after Oliver Wood, Tosh, and Colin Creevey. If they _saw _ you talking to a _Muggle_, they might just kill him for sport. Stay _away _ from anyone you care about, until this war is over. That's an order."

"Since when do you give the orders, then?" Gwen demanded indignantly.

Ianto was unimpressed with her attitude, and decided to twist the facts a bit to back himself up, "Since I inherited the Slytherin Mafia from Draco and Jack. I know more of what's going on than you do, right now, and I _know _ you're on the hit-list."

Again there was silence, though not nearly so tense as before. When she spoke again it was more idle curiosity than anything else, "Hey, how come I'm after Colin Creevey?"

Ianto smirked at the memory, "Because Tosh helped him figure out how to edit magical pictures. Now he has 'evidence' of What's-His-Name in drag." Neville and Ginny had been staring, dumbstruck, at this casual conversation... and now Neville burst out laughing, while Ginny looked like she was trying very hard not to.

"Wow." Gwen said, noticeably stunned.

"Yeah, I'm surprised he's not dead yet, myself." Ianto agreed.

Just then, the door slid open, and there stood Dolohov... again. "You." he pointed to Ianto, "The Dark Lord wants to see you."

"And he sent _you?_" Ianto asked sceptically. He was not pleased with this. He had always been summoned through Pansy before, and this scenario was mirroring Jack's abduction from the train two weeks ago far too closely for comfort.

The Death Eater grinned malevolently, and Ianto understood without anyone needing to say it. He had finally outlived his usefulness. Voldemort had summoned him, with the intent of causing him harm. Possibly even to use his pain to hurt Jack... and he didn't think he could overpower this guy on his own, let alone if he had backup like last time.

"Just... give me a minute... please?" Ianto asked, hopefully. "I just need to sort out a couple of things."

"Make it quick, runt." Dolohov snarled.

Ianto seethed, but didn't hesitate, as he pulled down his trunk from the overhead rack and quickly took out a small dragon-hide pouch. He pulled a mirror from it, and handed it to Owen, "You won't like this if it ever works. Pray that it doesn't." he told Owen, smirking, before pulling out two more items.

A vial of clear liquid, and what looked like an ordinary Muggle chapstick. He drank half the vial and then used the chapstick, pocketing both and turning to face the Death Eater once more.

"I'm done." he said simply. "All my affairs set in order."

"Sound like you don't think you're coming back." Owen sniped.

Ianto gave him a blank look, "I don't think I'm meant to."

"And you're going anyway?" Neville demanded, horrified.

"I don't think they take no for an answer." Ianto answered simply.

"You're... not afraid?" Ginny asked.

"Terrified... but that doesn't change anything." Ianto shrugged, before turning to face Dolohov again, a faint smile beginning to appear on his face, "You have no idea how long I've waited for a good opportunity to say this, and I promise I'll try not to laugh... take me to your leader."

x x x

Ginny stared at the door after it closed, "I can't believe we just let him do that!"

"After all the fuss you made about him being a traitor, now you care. Nice." Owen grumbled, sulking.

"There has to be something we can do!" Ginny protested.

Owen grinned darkly, giving her a sideways look of pure smugness, "We're doing it. We've been planning to rescue Jack for the last two weeks, and Ianto Jones can be _tracked_. We hadn't planned on it this soon, I'll grant you... but yeah, this is still doable."

Ginny frowned, "Tracked? How?"

"Muggle means." Owen said, in a tone of one announcing that they have an evil master-plan for world domination... using Muggle means.

"Right." Ginny drew the word out warily, exchanged a glance with an equally wary Neville, then turned back to Owen, "We're just going to go... somewhere else, now."

They managed to squeeze into a compartment with five Ravenclaws, all of whom were talking about disappearances over the holidays.

"I haven't seen Lovegood, either, have you?" Terry Boot was asking.

"No, and I hear the Patils left, as well." Mandy Brocklehurst added, distractedly budging up to give Ginny space to sit, "Their father put in a transfer with Gringotts, they're moving to Egypt... because, y'know, better than here."

"Wish I had those connections." Lisa Turpin muttered with a bit of a sulk.

Ginny looked across the compartment at Neville, who gave her a wan smile, "Beats sitting with Owen Bloody Harper."

Ginny returned the expression, "Any day." she agreed.

x x x

Luna Lovegood had been abducted from the train ride home, after her father's December special edition print had publically decried the policies of the new regime of the Ministry.

She hadn't minded too much, she was given enough food, and had a soft mat to sleep on in the dungeon cell.

Her fellow prisoner, Mr Ollivander, had been somewhat worse off, and slept nearly constantly. Over the last two weeks, Luna had decided to put her magical medicine knowledge, and general bedside manner, to good use by helping the old man to eat, and checking on his injuries. He had been cursed quite a bit, and scars made it look like he had been physically injured and then magically healed up quite poorly.

Torture, at her best guess. The Death Eaters were cruel, and quite blunt about it too.

She had asked Ollivander why they had hurt him, and he had said for information. The Dark Lord had wanted to know about wand lore, Ollivander had answered truthfully, and the Dark Lord had not liked the answer. Luna didn't exactly understand how torture worked, per se. She understood that physical pain was a bad thing, had experienced it a few times so she knew that much, but she didn't see how causing it was expected to make someone say something they wouldn't have said anyway.

Luna didn't work like that, but she had been given reason to believe that most people probably did. She also couldn't comprehend how torturing the messenger was supposed to change the facts. Maybe Voldemort thought it worked that way? Kind of silly, really.

In the afternoons, she sometimes heard screaming, from just down the hallway. Sometimes, she heard laughter as well, and would swear it was the same voice. She thought it sounded rather like Jack Harkness, but that was a silly notion. What would Jack Harkness be doing here?

Right now, she was sitting against the wall, watching Mr Ollivander sleep fitfully on the far side of the cell, and thinking about how the Hogwarts Express had probably just reached Hogsmeade- if her sense of time was still right. The other students probably didn't notice she was gone, or if they did they had other matters to be concerned over.

Without warning, the door opened with a violent bang, the sound of which jolted Mr Ollivander awake, and a new prisoner was shoved inside before the door slammed shut.

Ianto Jones. She smiled and waved up at him, and he smiled back. Not many people smile when they're in a bad place like this, he was an interesting one, Luna thought. He seemed quite calm, really. Most people would be upset, but he just looked around and then settled on the floor about a foot from where Luna sat.

"Is he alright?" Ianto asked, nodding to Mr Ollivander who, upon recognising that he wasn't being dragged off for more torture, had already gone back to sleep.

"Not so good, really." she answered, "I can't tell how badly hurt he is without a wand, but he told me he was tortured before I got here."

"When did you get here?" Ianto asked. Luna liked how casual this felt. Like a real conversation.

"About two weeks ago, I think. What date is it?"

"Fourth of January."

Luna nodded, "Two weeks." she confirmed.

"Any particular reason why?"

"Leverage, I expect. My father published an article they didn't agree with, so they told him to stop." she stared at Ianto for a second, before asking, "Why are you here?"

"Probably leverage, as well." he said, with a faint smile that looked self-depreciating, "Except I don't think I'll be as effective, considering who it's for."

Luna frowned curiously, but wasn't sure she wanted to ask. It seemed personal.

"They took Jack from the train, same day as you." he explained, "They think he knows something."

"And they think he'll talk to protect you?"

"Except I don't think he knows what they think he knows."

"Oh dear." Luna said with a slight frown, "That isn't good, now, is it?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Still, it could be worse." Luna pointed out, "Leverage is only viable if it's not harmed."

"That's true." He gave her that sad, self-depreciating smile again, "Until they get what they want."

x x x

Being on the run from the government wasn't anywhere near as hard as Harry had been expecting, when he had realised Voldemort had taken over the Ministry. He had seen a few Muggle movies about it, and they always had far worse a time of it than Harry and his friends were having now. Sure, it wasn't a great holiday, but it was easier than expected.

Even after they had been forced to leave the safety of the Fidelius charm, Hermione had made them as good as invisible, and camping in the woods wizard-style was more like having your own house that just happened to be in the middle of nowhere, rather than roughing it at all, really.

Except when those two were combined, someone always had to play lookout, at night. Sit just outside the tent and make sure nobody accidentally- or worse, deliberately- stumbled across their camp site while the others were sleeping.

They slept in shifts, so for the first three hours Ron sat watch, being the anti-morning person that he was, he got a lie in the next day in return. Draco got the second shift, for three more hours, and Harry took third shift, both being flexible enough to take six hours and a three-hour nap instead of a full night's sleep and not feel any the worse for wear. Hermione was always awake bright and early anyway, so she had volunteered to take the morning shift, and that left them with had eleven hours awake together to plot.

Right now it was about an hour into Harry's shift.

He thought he heard a sound in the distance. A kind of groaning. Maybe the trees, or the wind. Immediately alert, he stared in that direction, and the sound began to become clearer. It didn't really seem natural at all. Kind of grating, almost metallic.

He knew better than to go running off, leaving the others unguarded, instead pulling the Invisibility Cloak around himself and paying careful attention to the direction the sound had finally ceased coming from.

Footsteps, distinctly human (or human-shaped?), the rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs as whoever it was really wasn't at all stealthy. In fact, whoever it was, they were running... right this way.

Harry drew his wand, and cast the pre-determined charm to alert Ron, Hermione and Draco. There was a silencing charm around their sleeping area, but the spell sent a physical firework like Fred and George's into that silenced area and set it off with a bang. It happened to be the very same way that Draco had once woken Ron and Harry up at Grimmauld Place, and it was very effective.

Soon the other two boys appeared in the doorway of the tent, Ron bumping into Harry. "Whassup, 'Arry?" he yawned.

Hermione was there a moment later, pulling a school robe on over her nightdress, "Did you see something?"

"Heard... someone." Harry whispered, indicating the right direction.

The footsteps had paused, but now they started again, getting closer, running... and then running right past their campsite.

Harry caught a glimpse of a woman with vivid red hair, bolting through the overgrown bushes and grass that surrounded the copse they had set up in. Whoever she was, she hadn't seen them, and she kept going into the distance.

But someone else was coming, now, too.

A man followed her, running just that bit faster, and carrying a sword over his head as if charging into battle.

A very familiar sword.

Harry did not wait to see what the others had to say. He charged out after the two strangers, still hidden under the cloak, and casting a silencing charm on his feet as he began to run.

He caught up to the two, after about a minute, to find the woman had stumbled over a tree root, and the man had caught her. When Harry stepped out into the clearing they were in, the man spun and pointed the sword in Harry's general direction, shouting out, "Have at thee!"

Harry was quite incredulous, and waited as the man's aim wavered and he stared into the thin air around Harry's very invisible self.

"Well. Scared you off. Yes!" the man shouted at said thin air.

Harry almost wanted to laugh. Something about this guy's behaviour reminded him of Sir Cadogan. Except he didn't look a thing like the stout old knight, being tall, skinny and a bit goofy looking, while Cadogan was short, plump and somewhat surly.

He turned to the woman, who was also looking off into the empty space near where Harry stood. "You know, I'm always telling you not to run off." he announced, waving the sword in her direction.

"And when have I ever listened to you?" she demanded, her English accent poorly feigned, slipping to Scottish quite strongly.

But as Harry got a good look at her, something about her reminded him of... well, she looked a lot like... the photographs he'd seen of his mother. And a clearly less than sane man was aiming a sword her way. Not only that, but a sword Harry recognised as _his own property_, according to Professor Dumbledore's will.

He didn't stop to wonder how this man had found the sword, just aimed his wand and wordlessly cast Expelliarmus.

The sword came flying out of the man's hand, as if he really hadn't even been trying to hold onto it very well. Which didn't exactly raise Harry's opinion of him at all. Waving a weapon like that around without a good grip, in the direction of another person, was a very bad idea, even Harry knew that.

Harry caught the sword and pulled it under the cloak, moving immediately after he did so, to make sure they didn't see where he was based on where he had been.

The man stared for a second, then turned and ran off.

The woman stared, somewhere between incredulous and amused, "Well now I've seen everything." she said, picking herself up, "He's as useful with a sword as I am with a gun... it wouldn't have ended well." she said with a smirk, "Thanks, invisible... person?" The point she was looking at was about a foot to Harry's right... then she flashed a brilliant smile that made Harry's heart skip a beat, before turning and running off in another direction.

Harry slowly sat down, staring at the sword in his hands.

Who on Earth was that, and how did they get a hold of the sword of Godric Gryffindor?

x x x

Five minutes later, Amy Pond sauntered into the TARDIS, looking all kinds of smug, "Wow, ham it up, why don't you, Doctor?" she laughed, "I'm amazed he even believed for a second that you'd hurt a fly!"

"Me? Ham? Nevah!" the Doctor crowed cheerfully, "I'm a brilliant actor, I am. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I met William Shakespeare?"

Amy gave him a sceptical but indulgent look at that. As if to say she didn't buy it, but wouldn't argue either. "So, you told me Hogwarts was real." she pointed out, "Where's my castle?"

"Eleven sixty-three. Best year to visit." the Doctor crowed cheerfully, "And I need to ask Godric to let me put a nice little tracking device on that sword, so I'll know what I'm doing half an hour ago, anyway."

"Eleven sixty-three." Amy pondered, "Tell me wizards have indoor plumbing back then."

The Doctor did not answer this, just grinned and started pulling lever and turning dials. And the TARDIS left this time... and the creeping feeling that he was missing something.

As they returned to the Vortex, leaving that linear timeline behind, he realised exactly what he had been forgetting- been made to forget- and began to genuinely worry for the fate of the universe.

"Every time I start thinking your daughter's trouble, Amy... I remember why I'm so happy she's never met the man we need to go see now." he noticed the LOOK she was giving him at the announcement of another delay, and added quickly, "Then castle. Promise."

x x x


	118. I've Had Worse Dates

x x x

**Chapter 118: I've Had Worse Dates**

x x x

It had been almost a week since Ianto had been taken from the train. Luna observed somewhat sadly that the amount of food given to them was the same as it had always been. No extra for Ianto, who had therefore taken far less than she offered him, claiming he didn't eat much anyway. He was sure from the look she gave him that she knew he was lying, but she and the wounded man, Ollivander, probably needed it more.

Now, the door opened, and instead of food being brought for them as he had kind of hoped, Scabior was lurking in the doorway, "Ianto Jones." he practically purred, "The Dark Lord wants to see you."

"I bet you're thrilled to get some time alone with me on the way there, and all." Ianto sniped as he stood and walked briskly past Scabior and out into the corridor, trying very hard to maintain a semblance of dignity.

"I'm still a bit disappointed that you rejected my offer." Scabior admitted, closing the door and gesturing towards the stairs up to the drawing room.

"Much good it would do me now." Ianto turned to look at him, "Even if I had been... interested."

The half-smirk half-sneer Scabior wore was probably meant to be intimidating, but Ianto expected to find much worse waiting for him up those stairs when he finally had to face Lord Voldemort, so this really didn't seem all that significant. "Shame, really. I always liked the pretty ones."

"Pretty?" Ianto asked sceptically.

"Pretty girls are better, especially when they scream." Scabior said with a leer, as he leaned a bit closer ot Ianto, "But I'm not averse to the pretty boys, either."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I take it."

"You're too old for my father." Scabior snapped, taking a step towards Ianto, who backed up into the wall. "And pretty doesn't matter to him. Only blood. I would so hate to see this pretty face mangled... clawed up." He stroked Ianto's cheek, and leaned closer as if to kiss him.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you." Ianto said quickly.

"Scared, pretty boy?" Scabior smirked.

"I might get in trouble." Ianto shrugged, doing his best to feign a lack of concern, "And I imagine I'm in enough of that already."

Scabior snorted, and grabbed a handful of his hair, kissing him harshly on the lips.

And then he froze.

Ianto reached up and carefully untangled his hair from Scabior's now limp hand, pushing him back easily, with no real effort.

"Can't say I didn't warn you." Ianto smirked, "Be thankful I specifically requested a non-lethal version of this poison. You'll be fine in two hours." he leaned forward just enough to whisper in Scabior's ear, "I hope the other Death Eaters are kind to you when they find you like this. I wouldn't be."

And with a slight push, Scabior fell back onto the ground, eyes wide with fear as the paralysing lip balm John had given Ianto prevented him from resisting.

"Drawing room, right?" Ianto asked, gesturing towards the stairs, "If it was anyone else, I'd say 'catch you later'... but I really don't like your name, Scabior."

x x x

Jack was kneeling in the corner of the drawing room, facing out towards the rest of the room, watching with trepidation as Voldemort paced uneasily.

The door opened, and in walked Ianto, unaccompanied, and calm as you please. Jack could tell from knowing Ianto, from the tension in his bearing that no one else would have spotted, that any illusion of confidence right now was just for show. "I'm sorry I'm late, My Lord. Had a little problem with Scabior. I took care of it."

Voldemort looked shocked, maybe even angry but mostly shocked. "Explain yourself immediately!" he demanded.

"Scabior tried to hurt me." Ianto said with a totally earnest and open tone and attitude that made even Jack believe every word, "He's currently paralysed, in the dungeon corridor. It'll wear off in a couple of hours."

The shock was still clear on Voldemort's face as he asked sceptically, "And yet you came to me, even after incapacitating your captor?"

"Of course, My Lord." Ianto said with a bow. This really was par for the course, where Ianto was concerned. He always did go all-out when he was feigning loyalty to someone. Maybe it came from the fact that his true loyalties were so deeply ingrained and unwavering.

Voldemort seethed a bit, seeming most disconcerted by this turn of events. You kidnap and imprison someone, you usually expect them to put up a fight about it. But then Voldemort turned on Jack, and positively snarled, "You will tell me what I wish to know, Harkness, or it shall be your boyfriend who suffers for it."

Ianto gave Voldemort an incredulous look for this, but he didn't see it. And anyway, it didn't seem to be aimed at the threat of violence, so much as seeming to convey the thought of 'you really don't know Jack that well, do you?' "My Lord... I don't think he likes the word 'boyfriend'."

Jack stared at him, wondering what the hell he thought he was playing at. Voldemort was obviously just a bit irritated, but not seriously angry with Ianto yet, still focusing most of his attention on Jack. "Where is Harry Potter?" Voldemort snarled at him.

It was then that Jack saw Ianto slowly nod his head to Jack, meaningfully, behind the Dark Lord's back. Jack understood. Harry wasn't at that Secret location anymore. He had suspected as much, but hadn't dared to take the risk, in case he was wrong.

Jack closed his eyes and affected a pained expression, before naming the location of the flat where he used to live.

"I've heard whispers, My Lord." Ianto observed, "They say Potter is constantly on the move. I doubt he would stay in the same place, after a Secret Keeper was taken prisoner... again."

Voldemort snorted, somewhat derisively, "I have no doubt you are correct, Ianto." He met Ianto's eyes for a moment, and when he spoke again the tone was calculating, "Your loyalty is unwavering, even in the face of such mistreatment at the hands of my servants... but I confess myself uncertain. It seems your loyalty to me relies solely on the wellbeing of Mr Harkness here, is that so?"

Ianto hesitated, before answering, "I- I would prefer he not be harmed, My Lord."

Well that was a resounding yes, in Jack's opinion, and that was even without knowing Ianto's tells as he did. He slumped his shoulders slightly, absolutely terrified of what would happen next.

"I believe..." Voldemort said slowly, stalking towards Ianto and then circling him like a predator, "That your trust in Mr Harkness is severely misplaced, Ianto. If you only knew what he has done, you would not be so quick to defend him."

Right as he said this, Voldemort was directly behind Ianto, though still circling. The incredulous look that flew briefly across Ianto's face was unmistakeable, but also not there a moment later when Voldemort was able to see his face once more. Voldemort stopped to Ianto's right side, and spoke too softly for Jack to hear.

Ianto glanced his way, and to Jack it looked like he was making a great effort not to look like he thought what he had just heard was absolutely hilarious. "So have I." Ianto said simply.

Voldemort was clearly taken aback, but whispered another secret... likely gleaned from the long sessions of telepathic invasion that Jack had endured over the last three weeks.

Ianto blinked at that one. Clearly it was new, but his answer to it was simply, "I'm not surprised."

Voldemort roughly gripped Ianto's throat and whispered one more thing in his ear, anger radiating from him in near tangible waves now. This time it wasn't a quick few words, but sounded more like a long and involved tale. And Ianto looked absolutely horrified, growing more so as he heard more.

When Voldemort had finished speaking, and backed off a step, still positively snarling with rage, Ianto turned to look at Jack, "I think I need to murder your ex. The one I borrowed lipstick from to poison Scabior."

Jack was a bit shocked by this incredibly blunt statement. Ianto usually had strong morals opposed to murder. He had only suggested killing Jack three times, once during Lisa's rampage in the Hub, and twice after learning of Jack's immortality and those two had been in jest. When he said murder, he really meant he hated the culprit... and Jack had been led to believe that John had been behaving himself lately.

Jack looked up at Voldemort, "Is this about the unidentified potion?"

Voldemort positively hissed, "Can neither of you foolish children take a threat to your lives and wellbeing seriously?!" he snarled, "If you will not bend to my will, Ianto, then you shall be broken." He pointed accusingly to Ianto as he said that, before turning on Jack, "And you! You have outlived your value to me, Harkness. You will suffer for your impudence!"

"And up to now... what was that, a day at the beach?" Jack taunted.

The last thing he knew was a snarl of "Crucio!" and a stabbing pain to the back of his head as he fell over, particularly sharper than the pain that the curse was causing to the rest of his body, and then the world went black.

x x x

Twenty-four hours passed, and Ianto was getting more and more agitated as he paced his new prison cell.

Occasionally he could hear Luna talking to Mr Ollivander, from nearby, one or two rooms over, to the right of his new... accommodations.

What Voldemort had told him did not make sense. He really wished he had John's mirror, so he could ask for himself. It was clear that it _was_ John's fault. Entirely. Voldemort had said Jack didn't even know. Jack himself had told him that, while unlikely in the extreme, that was entirely possible... he just hadn't connected all the dots yet.

Ianto supposed that Jack didn't have all the information, while Voldemort had... experience in that area.

He wasn't even sure it was true... but if it was, it did explain why Voldemort hadn't just killed Jack when he outlived his usefulness. A part of Ianto kind of wished he had. He hated when Jack died, but it was better than being tortured by a monster like Voldemort.

When the door swung open and Scabior Greyback stepped in, looking surprisingly crestfallen, Ianto wasn't sure whether he should be happy at the Death Eater's obvious displeasure, or worried about whatever had caused it.

But then Scabior began to explain the situation to him in a dour monotone of one who really didn't want to be there right now... and as the words sank in, Ianto began to feel a cold sort of dreads wash over him.

x x x

Draco was bored, he was lying on his back on the couch in the living room of their tent, staring at the ceiling and indulging in fruitless fantasies of the normal (for him) happy life back at the Manor before the Dark Lord had taken over.

Weasley, Granger and Potter were plotting, again, but still failed to have any idea how to get into either Gringotts or Malfoy Manor. Gwen Cooper had sent them a message a couple of days ago, that Ianto had been abducted from the train. Apparently Ginny Weasley had relayed the information just before the train passed out of range up towards the north. Now they had two people to rescue from an impenetrable fortress, and still an evil relic to steal from the most secure facility in Magical Britain.

"I miss having house elves!" Draco declared loudly, "For the food alone, I'd almost be willing to brave Hogwarts under Death Eater rule!"

Ron snorted, "Have I mentioned how much I hate agreeing with you, Malfoy?"

Malfoy merely offered him a rude hand-gesture in response.

"That's it!" Hermione cheered eagerly standing up and rushing to her bedroom.

Draco sat up sharply, "I hope she didn't mean the hand-gesture."

Harry looked over at him, looking somewhat disturbed but in a way that showed he got the joke, "I'm just going to pretend I was looking, because I think I can guess."

"House elves!" Hermione cheered, returning with a small, worn, green-leather book clutched in her hands. She set it on the table where they all could see the title... which read, '_House Elf Magic_'. "Gwen gave me this, right after..."

"Spew." Ron said, grinning. Yes, even Draco remembered that poorly named acronym for an equally poorly conceived campaign.

"That's S.P.E.W., Ron." Hermione corrected with a sniff, "Listen, it says here-" she opened the book quickly, finding the right page with surprising ease considering there had been no bookmark in it, "A House Elf may pass through any barrier made by wizards without effect, including Anti-Apparation fields, magical detection charms, and shielding spells."

Draco frowned in thought, as Weasley announced, "That's right. How else do they just zap around Hogwarts like that?"

"And." Hermione continued excitedly, "They can take up to six times their own body-weight with them. That's two or three people."

Harry positively laughed with relief, "We could just send a House Elf in, and we'd have Jack and Ianto out of Malfoy Manor in the blink of an eye!"

"All well and good for Malfoy Manor." Draco agreed slowly, "But Gringotts is guarded by _Goblin_ magic. House Elves _can't_ get through that."

"It's still something!" Weasley said, grinning broadly now.

"We'll figure that out after we get Jack back." Harry said, standing up, "Who knows what Voldemort's doing to him, right now."

x x x

Jack woke up in what he could tell without opening his eyes was a dank prison cell of some variety.

You could always smell the dank.

His head hurt. Actually, everything hurt. Yeah... everything. Damn the Cruciatus curse, and double damn Fenrir Greyback.

Oh yeah, and Voldemort... but he wasn't nearly as offensive, somehow.

"You're awake. That's good." Ianto's voice drew his attention. "I guess." he added... and now Jack noticed the measured and slightly pained tone in his voice. It wasn't physical pain. It was emotional.

Jack looked up immediately, to see him sitting on an uncomfortable-looking wooden bench on the far side of the cell. Upon closer inspection, Jack discovered that he had woken on an identical bench. Might explain why his shoulder hurt slightly more than the rest of his body.

"Ianto? What're you doing here?" Jack asked, sitting up slowly. Oh, he knew what Ianto had been doing earlier, but now... why was he locked up in the same cell as Jack? Didn't Voldemort know they would only conspire if left unsupervised like this?

"Seems what's-his-face wants you to suffer." Ianto answered, "I've been told precisely how, and I assume I'm expected to tell you as well."

Jack frowned, "Hmm. Kidnapping a pureblood who has done everything to prove his loyalty, just to use you to hurt someone they have no solid proof ever did anything against them... really is telling about their propaganda, isn't it?" he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. It failed spectacularly.

"Jack, he told me Greyback turned you." Ianto said softly, "It's just past sunset. Less than an hour before moonrise."

Jack shook his head slowly, "No. What's-his-name specifically ordered Greyback _not _ to bite me... and he didn't."

Ianto shrugged, "I'm just telling you what he said. Greyback turned you, and tonight is a full moon."

"No." Jack denied, checking his arms and torso for any new injuries that may have occurred while he had been unconscious. "No, he didn't bite me."

Ianto frowned, now failing to hide his concern at all. He had almost succeeded up to this point, but now it was written clearly on his face and in his voice. "Jack... what _did _ Greyback do to you?"

Blink and you'd miss it, that's how all of Jack's tells were. Ianto had learned to notice them, but Jack was sure he hadn't seen the slight twitch of his lip that said he found it morbidly amusing. "Torture. The usual." he dismissed blithely.

Ianto's frown deepened. He had noticed, but Jack was grateful to find that he decided not to call him on it for now. "Look, Jack, this is serious. In less than an hour you're going to turn into a werewolf."

Jack looked at him sharply, "And you take the evil overlord's word for it, do you?" he asked sceptically, "He's probably just trying to scare us. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Jack!" Ianto snapped, quickly crossing the room and forcing Jack to look at him, "Werewolves don't differentiate between humans. To them we're all... just meat."

This time it was Ianto who showed the tell. Deep-seated fear. Jack was sure he was remembering his first active mission... and he gently reached out to touch Ianto's arm, "I promise I won't ever hurt you, Ianto." he said softly, "And I've not been bitten. I'm not a werewolf."

Ianto stared blankly at the wall, now, as he spoke, "There's a way to be sure. To be certain you won't hurt me, even if you are. And it'll do no harm if I'm wrong... if what's-his-name was lying."

"Which he undoubtedly was." Jack said gently, pulling Ianto down to sit next to him now, "Tell me."

Ianto refused to look at him, but when he spoke his voice was even, "Werewolves are contagious for about seventy-two hours around the full moon. If you have been turned, you could still turn me now, even without the moon." He slowly looked up to meet the dubious gaze Jack was aiming his way, "Werewolves only attack humans. Not their own kind. I'd be safe."

"You'd be cursed." Jack pointed out.

Ianto held his gaze steadily, "Which would you rather do, curse me or kill me?"

Jack stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head, "It doesn't matter anyway." Then he thought of something, and leered slightly as he added, "I challenge you, Ianto Jones, to find any bite mark on this body."

Ianto snorted, half embarrassed and half indignant, "Jack, can't you go five minutes without bringing sex into the conversation?"

"Was that not five minutes?" Jack joked, grinning, "I was unconscious for longer, wasn't I?"

Ianto shook his head, laughing weakly, "Please, just do this for me, Jack. I don't want to take the risk that he was telling the truth." He looked Jack right in the eyes, deadly serious, "I'd rather live cursed than have you blaming yourself for my death. And if you're right, if he was lying... then it won't make any difference at all. Right?"

Jack frowned, but it quickly turned into a smirk, "I suppose you're right. Never thought you'd be into anything like blood-play, though."

Ianto blushed so adorably. They had both grown so much over the last two years, and he really didn't look so innocent, anymore. Not a child anymore... even if he still looked a decade younger than when Jack had first met him.

"There's an easy way and a... difficult way to do this." Ianto said, carefully avoiding the obvious double-entendre. "You could actually bite me, but I'm kind of uncomfortable with that idea."

"Or...?" Jack asked warily.

Ianto carefully removed the Prefect badge from his school tie, and sharply drew the point of the pin across his wrist. Drawing blood on his first try, and not even flinching at it. As if he knew precisely what he was doing because he had done something similar before. Jack tried his best not to think about that as he stared at the drop of blood slowly seeping from the cut.

"It's in the saliva." Ianto explained, "If it's true, you'd just need to lick the cut."

"And _this _ you're not uncomfortable with?" Jack asked sceptically. He wasn't usually bothered by blood, wouldn't have thought twice about it normally. But Ianto was taking this very seriously, and if it _was _ true... "I'm not sure I should..."

Ianto looked down at his wrist, "It's your choice, Jack." he said quietly.

Jack stared at the cut for several interminably long seconds, before swallowing hard and looking away, "I- I can't, Ianto. I'm sorry."

x x x


	119. Tooth And Claw

x x x

**Chapter 119: Tooth And Claw**

x x x

"We'll figure that out after we get Jack back." Harry said, standing up, "Who knows what Voldemort's doing to him, right now."

At that very moment, a loud crashing sound echoed around them. Hermione visibly shivered, drawing her wand and turning to face the door with blatant fear. Draco picked up on her behaviour and also drew his wand. "You just said a very bad word, Potter. We need to get out of here."

"They took down the repelling wards... but not the anti-Apparation!" Hermione practically squeaked. Harry guessed that might be why she had shivered. The more powerful witches and wizards could _sense _ their own wards, and would almost physically feel it if someone disrupted them.

By this point, Harry and Ron were also ready for a fight, but instead of coming through the door like you'd expect, the tent itself was magically torn away from around them, leaving them standing in the middle of a circle of armed wizards.

Draco reacted first, throwing up a shielding spell around the four of them, just in time to deflect a volley of stunners. Hermione threw a bludgeoning curse at the nearest enemy, sending him flying through the air and into a tree. Ron also attacked the one nearest him, but Harry turned around and shot his own stunning spell at the one right next to Ron's target, instead of the much closer enemy to his right. Three down, and Draco turned and hit the one between where Hermione and Ron had been aiming.

Now there were only six enemies still standing.

Draco seized Hermione's arm and pulled her towards the gap in the enemy ranks. "Run!" Harry shouted. If they made it to the Apparation barrier, they could still escape.

Harry fired another two stunning spells as he ran, but they were both blocked now. The element of surprise Draco's shield has afforded them had clearly run out.

They were almost there, but a tripping jinx got Ron, and Hermione pulled free of Draco's grip to turn and shield him, an instant later and she had fired a very nasty stinging hex at the one who had tripped him.

Harry threw one of the Weasley-twins' flash-bang spells- it looked like a marble, until it struck the ground hard enough, then it went off with all the pyrotechnic flair of a Muggle grenade, but none of the destructive power- into the group of enemies, before helping Ron to his feet. They had just turned to continue their flight when a spell struck Harry from the direction they had been headed.

A man who had not deigned to join the fray with the rest of them, but was also clearly with the group of dark wizards, stood in their path, holding a magical shield between them and their only escape route.

And to add insult to injury, the curse that had hit Harry was a bat bogey.

Draco's snide voice had the gall to observe, "If you wanted to one-up his girlfriend, you could always just have asked him out."

"I always knew you were fickle, Malfoy, but this is ridiculous." Harry recognised that voice, but couldn't really place it.

"Who cursed your face off, Yaxley?" Draco sniped.

And then he remembered. Adrian Yaxley had been seventh year and Slytherin House's head prefect, during Harry's fourth year. He had made spectacular enemies with Jack, and it didn't sound like Draco liked him very much either. Harry managed the counter curse to the bat bogey spell, and finally got a good look at Yaxley's face.

The scarring was horrific, melted flesh down the left side of his face. It really did look like he had been in a fire, or something of the sort.

"Not that it's any of your damned business-" Yaxley snarled.

"It was Owen, wasn't it?" Draco asked, smirking.

Yaxley twitched, "Much as I'd love to get my hands around Owen Harper's throat, no. It was Alastor Moody, if you must know." he growled resentfully.

A flash of red light from two sides, and Yaxley's shield flared up, absorbing the spells Ron and Hermione had tried to throw at him while he was preoccupied.

Yaxley rolled his eyes, looking bored, as he gestured with his hand. Suddenly Harry was seized from behind by strong arms, and he saw his three friends meet similarly undignified fates. Draco and Ron both tried to kick the men who held them, while Hermione yelped indignantly.

Then Yaxley stepped forward, dropping his shield and casting a summoning spell on their wands. "Harry Potter. You know what happens next, I presume?" he asked coldly.

"You take me to your boss so he can fail to kill me again?" Harry asked, trying and probably failing to sound cheerful. It might have worked, too, if Yaxley had not, at that very instant, snapped Harry's wand in half.

And then he went on to systematically snap the other three as well.

Ron and Hermione both yelled in outrage. Draco literally whimpered, utterly horrified. Harry felt suddenly powerless. Hopeless. He couldn't fight without a wand. It was over.

x x x

Jack was leaning against the wall of the prison cell he shared with Ianto, when he heard Bellatrix Lestrange positively shrieking, upstairs. He inclined his head and listened carefully, but only caught a few words. Something about a sword.

Then footsteps rattling down the stairs. Several sets of very reluctant footsteps by the sound of it. Which meant more prisoners.

"Did I just hear darling Bella shrieking about a sword?" Jack asked too-innocently, as the footsteps passed their cell, "Which intimate orifice was it inserted into? Or hasn't she got to that part of the game yet?"

"_You_ would call that a game." Draco Malfoy's voice called back.

And in an instant Jack was at the door, "Draco? What are you doing here?"

"Being taken prisoner, what did you think?" Draco snapped, his voice fading as he was dragged further down the corridor. He just managed a snide remark of, "I got homesick and decided to make nice with the bastard Dark Lord and his brain-damaged minions?" before a door slammed, and it sounded like he was in the very next cell.

Far more confident footsteps retreated up the stairs. The minions who had thrown Draco- and by the sound of it several other people- into the next cell were gone.

"Jack?" Harry Potter's voice asked from the cell. It was low, like he was trying to only just be heard by Jack and no more.

"Shit." Ianto hissed, whispering to Jack, "Hart told me Harry getting captured was a Very Bad Thing for the timelines."

"Harry... how did they get you?" Jack asked with a frown, settling on the bench at that side of the cell, with his head leaning against the wall.

"I don't know." Harry answered, and his confusion certainly sounded honest, "We were just talking about how to rescue you, and they found us. No idea how."

"So did you have any ideas on that rescue before they caught you?" Jack asked, not holding out much hope.

"Yeah, but I've no idea how to get the help we need in here." Harry replied. He sounded truly defeated.

"Honestly, Potter. You accidentally figure out how to summon a Dark Lord, and you can't manage a bloody House Elf." Draco exclaimed with a dramatic sigh, before shouting out in a commanding tone, "Dobby!"

A whip-cracking sound echoed from the next cell, drowned out completely by more of Bellatrix's shrieking upstairs.

This was followed immediately by a high-pitched whimper and a scurrying noise.

"It's okay, Dobby. He's on our side." Harry insisted, "Look, we need you to get us out of here."

"Dobby can do that, Harry Potter, sir. Yes, Dobby can!" and Jack distinctly heard the door of the cell creak open. A moment later, the door to Jack and Ianto's cell opened as well, and they were greeted by the sight of a very excitable House Elf and three very miserable looking seventeen-year-old wizards.

"You'd think a jailbreak would boost your spirits, boys." Jack teased as he stood up and approached the door.

Harry sighed tiredly, "Are there any other prisoners?"

"Yes." Ianto answered, "Luna Lovegood and Mr Ollivander are two cells down that way." he pointed in the opposite direction of the cell Harry, Draco and Ron had been in. "And I think I heard them bringing in someone else this morning."

Harry nodded quickly, before turning to the House Elf, "Dobby, I'd like you to take Draco and check the other cells, teleport Draco and any prisoners you find there away somewhere safe, then come back here for Jack, Ianto and Ron." he then looked up at Draco, "It's your job to make sure they're all okay wherever Dobby takes you, alright?"

Draco nodded efficiently, and followed the elf, who scampered eagerly down the corridor to follow these instructions.

"Oi, what about you and Hermione?" Ron protested.

"I'm going back for Hermione." Harry insisted.

"But Harry, you'll need my help!" Ron insisted.

"I'm a Gryffindor, Ron. I know how this goes." Harry said, obviously upset and almost exasperated. As if what he was about to say didn't sit too well with him, either. It was obvious that he had thought of this during their capture. "We know a House Elf can only take two _or _ three people, depending on the individuals being transported. Hermione said so. If we both go up there together, get Hermione, then find out Dobby can only take two of us... which two do you think he'll take? I _hate _ to admit this, but we all know it's true, I need to stay alive long enough to stop Voldemort... and you know you'd make sure Hermione got away. I don't want to risk having to leave you behind, so please trust me. I will save her. Okay?"

Ron was blatantly uncomfortable with this reasoned and logical argument, but eventually conceded with a dour nod. After a moment of silence, however, he did come up with an unrelated argument. "But you don't have a wand. How're you gonna fight them?"

Harry clearly didn't have an answer to that.

"Take mine." Jack offered, producing the oak and dragon heartstring wand he had bought five and a half years ago in Diagon Alley from seemingly nowhere. "I was never in a suitable position to use it, and the locks on these cells are wizard-proof, but the Death Eaters who personally chained my wrists somehow failed to notice where I kept it on my arm."

The mere fact of saying where the wand had been hidden did draw Harry and Ron's eyes to the perception-filtered-and-disillusioned leather sheath on his left arm.

"You're sure?" Harry asked.

"It's this or I use a summoning charm and hope there's a Muggle with a gun within ten miles." Jack offered brightly, holding the wand out to Harry.

"Thanks." Harry laughed nervously, "I think I prefer the wand."

As Harry took the wand from Jack's hand, he felt a shiver run up his arm. A shift in the way his magic itself moved around him, for just a moment. Harry's eyes widened slightly at the same moment. As he held the wand in front of him it glowed with the kind of power usually reserved for the day you buy it in the first place and it _chooses_ you.

"What was that?" Harry asked, slightly shaken.

"Since Malfoy's not here to say it..." Ron muttered.

"Nor Owen." Ianto observed.

"His wand likes you." Ron grumbled, "Are you surprised?"

Jack grinned brightly at Ron, "Oh, my bad influence has spread! Fantastic!"

Ianto elbowed Jack amicably to tell him to please shut up, and Jack had the good manners to do so.

It was at this moment that Dobby reappeared in the cell with that whip-cracking noise from earlier. "Is Masters Ron and Ianto and Jack ready?"

Jack looked sharply at the elf. "That word..." he growled.

Dobby blinked up at him, oblivious.

"Jack... leave the poor innocent House Elf alone." Ianto chided, "Yes, Dobby, we're ready."

Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto, who took Dobby's hand- Jack also held on to the elf's wrist as well- and Ron reluctantly held his hand out towards the elf as well. He hesitated just long enough to shoot a worried look back at Harry, "Good luck."

And he took Dobby's hand and the four of them teleported away.

x x x

_"Kill me, then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek. There is so much you do not understand."_

Harry shook his head, trying desperately to dispel that image from his mind.

Previous visions had led him to the understanding that Voldemort had intended to break into Nurmengard on this day... the details had eluded him until now, but the words 'thief' and 'wand' practically screamed through the telepathic link. It was all Voldemort could think of, and Harry suddenly put two and two together. Voldemort believed a prisoner of Nurmengard knew where the Elder Wand was... and there was only one prisoner left in Nurmengard in this decade.

Grindelwald.

Harry shook his head once more.

Terrifying revelations could wait. Hermione needed him.

A disillusionment charm and ten seconds later, Harry was at the top of the stairs into the drawing room.

"It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" Hermione insisted. She was in tears by this point.

There were two others remaining in the room. Most of their original captors had either left or been viciously dismissed. With Bellatrix Lestrange it could easily go either way. One of the wizards, Harry recognised as Yaxley, the other had his back to the door Harry was currently peering through.

"A copy?" Bellatrix yelled, incensed, "Oh, a likely story!"

Bellatrix was the greatest threat, Yaxley was no pushover either, and the one by the door was currently presenting the best opportunity to attack.

"We shall soon see!" Bellatrix snarled, inclining her head backwards a little towards the man by the door, "Loken, bring me the goblin!"

Loken Rowle. Slytherin, only graduated last year, and a goon on par with Crabbe and Goyle... if very slightly better at putting up a public image of decency.

Harry stepped back against the wall, as Loken opened the door. He cast a silencing spell on Loken as he passed Harry, and at the same time put his foot out right in front of the larger man's ankle.

As Loken began to fall down the long flight of stairs, unnatural silence seeming to slow the entire process and imbue it with a sense of horror, Harry added a Petrificus Totalus to the mix, just to make sure he didn't get up again. It would also have the side effect of preventing serious injury from the fall, but that wasn't really the point when you used it on a Death Eater.

Before the door creaked closed again, Harry was in the drawing room, stepping quickly behind a tapestry before the two remaining Death Eaters could notice anything amiss.

Under the disillusionment spell, Harry was able to skirt around the room, until he was behind both Yaxley and Bellatrix. He carefully aimed for Yaxley first, then fired two stunning spells, turning on Bellatrix for the second. She was fast. Incredibly fast. Yaxley was unconscious, but Bellatrix was able to dodge the stunner meant for her. She turned her wand on Harry and shrieked, "Crucio!"

It hit Harry, but didn't last long, as Hermione lunged from where she had been kneeling at Bellatrix's feet, to grab the woman by the legs and knock her to the ground. It earned her a kick to the face with a very sharp boot heel, but it was enough for Harry to recover, "Expelliarmus!"

Bellatrix's wand flew into his free hand, and he followed it up with a binding spell.

Again she was too fast, rolling out of the way. The spell landed in the half-inch of space between the last scrap of her skirt as she evaded it, and Hermione's hand.

"_HOW DARE YOU!_" Bellatrix snarled, rising to her feet with surprising ease, straight out of the roll, "I will make you suffer for that, Potter!"

Harry pointedly held up her wand and waved it between two fingers, "With what? This?" He gripped both wands tighter, determined. Jack had duelled her in the Department of Mysteries, and this time she didn't even have a wand. "Come get it."

He probably should have expected it, but he still managed to be surprised when she pulled a knife and lunged at him. He just had time to throw a Depulso spell at her before she got close enough to use that weapon, and instead she went flying into the wall.

With an echoing whip-crack, Dobby appeared beside Hermione. Harry ran over to the two of the, grabbing Dobby by one hand just as the elf seized Hermione's arm with the other.

The last thing Harry saw before feeling the entirely unfamiliar pull of the elf's teleport spell was Bellatrix shrieking in rage and hurling the dagger in their direction.

x x x

"Where the bloody hell are we?" Ron demanded, but Dobby had already departed, in order to rescue the others. Around them were only trees, it felt like a small wood but it surrounded them enough to hide any other distinguishing features of the area... though there was a scent on the air like that of salt water and beach, so they couldn't be too far from the ocean.

Jack shrugged, unconcerned, "We're out of Malfoy Manor... isn't that good enough to be getting on with?"

"Shouldn't we try to find somewhere... more secure?" Ianto asked, giving Jack a wary look.

Jack frowned in return, but then a chill went up Ianto's spine... a feeling he had come to associate with powerful magic. A warning. And then a cold blue light fell over them.

He looked back over his shoulder to see the moon beginning to rise over the horizon.

Then a grunt of pain from Jack drew his attention back, and Jack fell to his hands and knees in agony.

"Oh no..." Ianto whispered, glancing around wildly, trying to find either a direction to run or something that could prove itself useful. He was scanning the trees with an eye to climbing them, when he saw it. Wild mistletoe.

"Wh-what's happening?" Ron demanded, in a tone that was just a bit too high-pitched with fear.

"What are you, stupid?" Ianto snapped, "Help me with this." and he bolted for the tree. Ron wisely followed the voice that spoke with a tone of urgency and authority, even if he didn't especially like the person giving the orders. "Give me a leg up." Ron obeyed, and Ianto just reached the mistletoe, tearing it down from the tree.

Ron glanced back at Jack, and then whimpered in terror, before asking Ianto, "Sh-shouldn't we be running away?"

"Yes, because the average human is perfectly capable of outrunning a werewolf." Ianto snarked sarcastically, "Hold this, it might save your life." He shoved a few sprigs of the plant at Ron.

"What're you doing?" Ron whimpered, even as he obeyed Ianto's command once more.

Ianto looked down at Jack, both horrified and- he was loathe to admit- a bit fascinated by the beginnings of the transformation.

Jack had grown claws where his fingernails had been before, thick hair sprouting from the backs of his hands... and Ianto could hear him growling low in the back of his throat with every heavy and pained breath. "Ianto, get away from me." he all-but snarled, "Please."

"Scotland, eighteen seventy-nine." Ianto said calmly, not entirely sure which of the two he was speaking to... though he rather hoped that Jack already knew the founding story. "Queen Victoria was travelling across the moors when she was side-tracked to an out-of-the-way manor house. It was an ambush."

Ianto pulled off his school tie and put it around Jack's neck instead.

"A group of fanatics who worshipped a werewolf as their god wanted to infect Her Royal Highness with lycanthropy. They protected themselves from their 'god' by spreading mistletoe across the rooms they wanted it to leave alone, and wearing garlands of mistletoe around their necks, like you might a string of garlic to ward off a vampire."

He carefully plucked pieces of the plant off, and tucked them under the tie around Jack's neck. Jack looked up at him, and he flinched at the sight of his lover's face distorted into such horrific animalistic features. He had developed an elongated canine muzzle, grown wicked-sharp teeth, and his eyes... they were an eerie golden colour, and if Ianto hadn't seen the deep pain in those eyes he would have thought them inhuman.

"According to records..." Ianto continued in a strained impersonation of calm, "This repelled the creature. When it touched the plant it reacted as if burned, but without sustaining any recognisable damage. Mistletoe is a primary ingredient in the Wolfsbane potion for the same reason it also uses non-lethal doses of silver. It's our only chance, really. Running would just give the wolf a bit of sport before the kill."

Even as Ianto worked diligently on this slim chance of survival, the half-transformed werewolf's neck was getting thicker, until it seemed that the tie might choke it. He loosened the tie a little, to allow him to put more mistletoe under it... and just as he had almost finished, Jack- no, the werewolf, now- let out a loud snarling growl and convulsed violently.

Ianto backed up quickly, flinching at the sound of bones snapping and reshaping, and in spite of the horrific sight of it, he found himself unable to look away when its body begin to contort.

It wasn't human anymore, he couldn't afford to think of it as human. It would hurt too much.

It took almost two minutes- Ianto timed it- for the transformation to finish... and when it was over the wolf collapsed to the ground and just lay there, panting weakly as if it was in great pain... and probably having some difficulty breathing.

He felt a wave of pity for the creature, which was not entirely related to the fact it had been Jack mere minutes ago, and he was tempted to loosen the tie a little more... but he didn't dare approach the monster that his lover had temporarily become.

He glanced at Ron to see him staring in abject horror and total shock at the creature before them.

Several tense seconds passed, before a pitiful whine from the werewolf broke the silence. The beast was clearly incapacitated by the mistletoe. The Hufflepuff tie surely wouldn't have held on its own, if the wolf had wanted to tear it off.

None of Jack's other clothes had survived his transformation intact.

"Am I going mad..." Ron began weakly, not daring to take his eyes off the beast, "Or did you just subdue a werewolf?"

Ianto laughed, almost hysterical with relief, "Probably both."

x x x


	120. Damaged Goods

x x x

**Chapter 120: Damaged Goods**

x x x

Jack woke up shivering in the cold.

He was naked, and his neck hurt as if he had recently been hanged.

Then suddenly it all came back to him, and he sat up sharply in spite of the searing pain in his throat, staring around him in a panic.

He saw the bodies of Ianto Jones and Ronald Weasley, and it took a few seconds for him to register that both were unharmed, alive and breathing. Just sleeping. Together, at that. Probably huddled for warmth... it was very cold. Jack was beginning to wonder if he might have died of hypothermia at some point during the night.

Part of his mind made a note to tease the living hell out of Ron for this... even as the rest of his consciousness screamed in horror at the thought of what he could have done to them.

It was true. He was a werewolf. Twice cursed, to always and eternally lose- and now, once a month to actively try to destroy- all that he cared about.

He slowly pulled the tie from around his neck, idly noting how the mistletoe had absolutely no effect on his human form.

It was at this moment that Ianto stirred, noticed that Jack was awake, and quickly jumped up. Startling Ron awake as well. Ron's sleepy gaze travelled over the otherwise uninhabited landscape, before finally falling on Jack. He then promptly yelped in horror and averted his eyes, "Whoah! That's a worse sight than the wolf, mate!" he said in outrage.

Ianto just snorted, "Take off the coat, Weasley."

"Oi! I'm not stripping off, too!"

"It's for Jack. You want him to die of the cold?" Ianto snapped. Ron sulkily proceeded to remove his heavy coat, and allowed Ianto to take it. Ianto quickly moved to Jack's side, wrapping the coat around him and fastening it carefully.

"You can keep it and all, mate." Ron said, already rubbing his arms against the cold.

"Are you alright, Jack?" Ianto asked.

Jack just shook his head. How could he possibly be alright? He could have killed them both.

He was a monster.

"Look, nobody got hurt. It'll all be alright, you'll see." Ianto said in an attempt at a calm tone.

"No." Jack said, his voice hoarse from the transformation. Then suddenly he remembered something else from the previous night. Ianto had willingly offered- no, begged- Jack to effectively turn him too, so that at least he wouldn't attack him.

His eyes turned sharply to the cut on Ianto's wrist, just as Ianto finished fastening the last button up under his chin. Jack pulled back very sharply, staring at the wound. It was still shining red, not properly healed yet. He could _smell _ it, and that very thought disgusted him.

"You should cover that." he said quietly, "And _DON'T TOUCH ME!_" he shouted, dragging himself to his feet in spite of feeling so very weak.

He stumbled a couple of steps backwards, away from Ianto... but then he began to feel faint... and the ground span up to meet him.

x x x

For a full moon, Remus Lupin had had a relatively good night. For the last few months, he had been receiving entirely anonymous gifts of free and perfectly brewed Wolfsbane potion by unregistered owl. Each came with a note attached, in familiar yet unidentifiable handwriting.

The first note simply announced;

_'I was bored, had spare_  
><em>time, and I wanted to<em>  
><em>prove I could.<em>  
><em>Enjoy.'<em>

The second had said;

_'Still bored._  
><em>Enjoy.<em>'

And the third, which Remus had used last night;

_'Not so bored._  
><em>Pretty angry, really.<em>  
><em>But brewing potion<em>  
><em>helps me relax.<em>  
><em>Enjoy.'<em>

All that he could tell for certain was that whoever it was he had once seen their handwriting, but couldn't recall where... and it certainly was not Severus.

So it was, with a surprising spring in his step considering the time of the month, that Remus arrived at Shell Cottage with his wife- who still went by the name Tonks, even in the privacy of the bedroom, rather than use her much-hated given name- to check in with their friends and fellow conspirators in the battle against the Dark Lord.

To say they were surprised to find Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy gathered in the garden, around a stone marker that had not been there upon his previous visit was somewhat of an understatement. There was a silence and air of respect around them, as if the marker were a grave.

Remus approached slowly, and when Hermione looked up he saw tears running down her cheeks. As he drew closer he saw that Harry was equally distraught, having obviously wept openly at some point and unashamed enough to allow the dried streaks of tears to remain on his face. Draco stood quite stoically, but even his eyes shone slightly with viciously blinked back tears.

Remus looked down at the marker, to see that it read;

_'Here Lies Dobby,_  
><em>A Free Elf.'<em>

Hermione was the first to speak, "He died saving our lives." she said quietly, as Remus read the inscription.

Remus didn't know the elf, beyond third-hand tales of misadventures from Harry, as relayed through the notoriously unreliable Sirius Black. One thing he did know was that the elf had been a good friend to Harry. Another cruel loss in this unrelenting war.

Tonks stepped up next to Harry, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Remus knew better than to do so, staying back at a respectable distance. It was downright rude, borderline dangerous, for a being whose very sweat and tears were contagious if they got into an open wound, to touch anyone during that wrong time of the month, even if there was no risk of such a thing happening.

Certainly he would smell it if any of them had been wounded to the point of bleeding, and he could not smell any such thing.

No, wait, that wasn't entirely true. He couldn't smell it from _them_.

He turned his head to stare out in the direction of the vile scent. Into a small copse of trees behind the cottage. Just as he had looked up, three people emerged from the treeline, two of whom where supporting the third.

He glanced at his wife, who had noticed the direction he was looking. She lightly patted Harry's shoulder, and they left the three teenagers to grieve, both heading across the small field towards the three newcomers. Remus recognised them immediately they were close enough. Ron Weasley and Ianto Jones, supporting between them a barely conscious, half-naked Jack Harkness.

The scent of blood came from Mr Jones, but a moment later Remus missed a step.

There was an entirely different scent emanating from Mr Harkness. He held up his hand to stop Tonks, "Honey, take Ron over to the others." he instructed. She noticed the tension in his voice, giving him a curious frown, but then she shrugged and complied with his instructions. Trusting his judgement.

Remus took Ron's place at Jack's side. "You should watch that cut, Mr Jones." he warned.

The young man glanced down at his right wrist, which had been concealed under his shirt sleeve. Then he sighed, "You can smell it, can't you? And I don't mean me."

Remus' nose wrinkled in disgust as he took in the other scents surrounding Harkness. Not only lycanthropy... but the unmistakeable stench of the one who turned him, as well. "Yes." he answered bluntly, "We should get him indoors immediately." When Ianto went to help, Remus held up a hand, "Allow me. One benefit of this time of the month, for the next few hours I still possess the beast's physical strength."

With that, he easily hoisted the younger werewolf up into his arms, and proceeded to carry him towards the cottage. Jones followed half a step behind, clearly determined not to let Harkness out of his sight.

x x x

Ianto followed Remus and Jack into the cottage. He noted with admiration the way that Remus deftly evaded Bill Weasley's concerned inquiry into Jack's wellbeing, not letting slip anything beyond a need for a spare bed, while making Bill feel like the entire situation was under control and clearly explained.

Ianto trotted quickly up the stairs after Remus, and the instant Jack was laid down on the bed, Ianto was at his side.

"I would advise against physical contact for the time being, Mr Jones." Remus warned. "While it is not possible for mere skin contact to transfer the disease, lycanthropy is highly contagious at this time. Better safe than sorry."

"Seventy-two hours around the apex of the full moon." Ianto said with a nod, idly rubbing his wrist, and obeying Remus' instructions not to touch Jack for now. "Any bodily fluid of the werewolf into the bloodstream of the victim. I know."

Ianto hadn't realised that Jack was awake, but now his head turned to face Ianto, "Well that explains it." he muttered, with a sort of cold, empty look in his eyes. "You should stay away from me."

"It's only for three days around the full moon." Ianto insisted, "You'll be fine the rest of the time."

Jack snorted, and shook his head, turning over and burying his face in the pillow to avoid the rest of this conversation. And to prevent Ianto from seeing the tears that had been welling up in his eyes from being shed.

Ianto swore under his breath, wanting more than anything to hold Jack and comfort him... but that was the one thing he couldn't really do right now.

About a minute after the tense silence had gone on entirely too long, Remus cast a wordless spell on the room in general, then beckoned for Ianto to follow him. With extreme reluctance, Ianto obeyed, but the instant the door was closed, "I don't want to leave him alone now." he said sharply.

"I cast a monitoring spell." Remus said simply, "I have no desire for him to harm himself, but I do need to speak with you. About precisely that."

"There has to be something we can do." Ianto insisted, still refusing to go beyond the small landing just outside the room Jack was in.

"There is no cure for lycanthropy." Remus said, genuine sadness tinging his voice, "The best treatment is the Wolfsbane potion, and even that still leaves obvious side-effects."

Remus winced, and a second later the sound of a vase smashing emanated from the room. Ianto made to move for the door, but Remus' words stalled him, "Let him vent. I can repair any objects he damages, and he doesn't seem to want to hurt himself yet."

"You keep suggesting he would." Ianto grumbled darkly.

"The survival rate for a lycanthropy infection is ten percent." Remus stated bluntly, "Only a quarter of those deaths are due to injuries inflicted by the attacker."

Ianto flinched at that, and a second later was given another reason to flinch as something else shattered in the next room.

"There is only one so-called cure, and it really isn't worth it." Remus added.

Ianto looked at him, "Define worth it?"

Remus gave him a truly calculating look for that, but after a moment he did answer, "Even in death, the curse persists... well, unless the death blow is made by silver. But even then, it's still not a fate I would wish."

Well that explained the death toll, he could imagine many people preferring to die free rather than live cursed, though honestly he wasn't one of those people. If Ianto had been one of those people, he would have taken the easy way out after Lisa. But Jack... silver wasn't that hard to come by. If he recalled correctly, wizarding currency used real silver.

Something in Ianto's expression must have set off alarm bells in Remus' mind, and he immediately began to speak, "You need to understand, too many take the easy way out. Your best chance to save him is to accept him in spite of this curse."

Obliviate? Retcon? The truth?

Just outright lie, and try one of the other options later, once he knew what to make of this new information. That seemed the most plausible. He sighed, "I understand." Really, he did. He just didn't think Remus needed to understand about Jack's _other _ curse. At least not yet.

x x x

By the time Ianto returned to Jack's bedside, Jack had already exhausted himself breaking all the ornaments in the room, and was now fast asleep. It had been twenty hours, Ianto himself had dozed on the chair next to the bed, but refused to leave Jack's side.

He had, obviously, removed the monitoring charm, in spite of Remus' protests. He planned to discuss the possibility of a cure with Jack as soon as reasonably possible, however much he despised the method. He truly hated it every time Jack died, and wasn't sure he could bring himself to ever deal that killing blow, even if it was genuinely in Jack's best interests, as it would be now.

It was early evening when Remus re-joined them.

"He won't be lucid tonight. He won't transform, but you should leave him be."

Ianto had read about this, during his minor panic attack about Scabior... mostly because he didn't trust John Hart. The two nights on either side of the full moon were a strain on a werewolf's mind, but without the full transformation they were capable of some self-control at this time. Still contagious, and more emotionally unstable than average, they were quite likely to lash out on these two nights.

"You want me to lock him in here, scared and alone?" Ianto asked bitterly.

"Unfortunately, it is necessary, for your own safety." Remus answered, "I would offer to stay, but I doubt I would be good company myself."

Ianto snorted bitterly, "I hate this. And just so we're clear, I hate it because it hurts him."

Remus sighed, smiling weakly in an attempt to reassure him, "I know."

x x x

It was a warm night for winter, clear and dry. Ianto didn't need to bundle up beyond a simple coat and scarf over his normal clothes, to sit outside in the small garden of Shell Cottage, listening to the waves crashing against the shore and staring up at the not-quite-full moon. He kind of wished it was snowing or raining or something equally horrible. It felt like that kind of night. He was in that kind of mood.

Heavy icy rain beating down in darkened streets.

But no, instead it was clear. Cool but not freezing.

He hadn't had the opportunity to report in to Gwen, Tosh or Owen. The cottage was on the south coast, and beyond comms range of Cardiff. He would have to wait until Monday for Gwen to be in London, so he could relay the news.

"Ianto?" it was the commlink... and it was Jack's voice. It was already close to midnight, and his voice sounded hoarse, as if he had been screaming... or crying.

"Jack." he answered softly. Trying to sound reassuring, though if anything he felt relieved to hear Jack speaking to him at all.

"Why am I locked in?"

Ianto sighed, "Lycanthropy affects its victims for seventy two hours. The three nights around and including the full moon. It won't transform you, but you can't be let out."

He heard a sound somewhere between exasperated sigh and ominous growl, before Jack concluded darkly, "I'm still dangerous."

"Jack-"

"No, Ianto. Don't say it." there was anger now. Ianto knew, logically, that he should just cut the comms and make his apologies in the morning. Knew nothing he would hear tonight could be good. But he couldn't bring himself to do so. "You care too damned much for your own good. _I DON'T WANT YOU ANYWHERE NEAR ME!_"

"Jack-"

"_WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL TALKING? LEAVE ME ALONE!_" It wouldn't hurt so much if he could hear tears in Jack's voice. Pain, rather than anger. Some sense of misplaced noble sacrifice. All he heard was venom and rage.

"You started this conversation." Ianto said, adopting his well-mannered-butler tone of voice. It was a mask to hide his own pain. "I'm here if you need to talk, but I will _not _ listen if you're just going to shout."

"I'm broken." Jack answered bitterly. A cold laugh, "I'm a fucking werewolf. I'm a contagious fucking monster. You know, I've met aliens who say humans are the most revolting creatures they've ever encountered. We shed hair and skin all over the place, we secrete vile fluids from every pore. It's not just saliva... it's in my sweat and my tears. You shouldn't even touch me! Shouldn't have carried me here! If you have any sense you'll burn this entire room out! I'm disgusting!" That last word was said with a choked sob that nearly broke Ianto's heart to hear.

"The contagion dies outside the human body. It's only transferable through direct contact." Ianto answered, trying to sound calm, but not really feeling it. He wished Jack hadn't tried to talk to him under the lycanthropy's influence. He knew that was selfish, knew Jack needed to vent, but it was so painful to hear.

"You don't understand, Ianto! In all the Agency's records, almost a hundred thousand recorded missions across six galaxies and seven thousand years, Fenrir fucking Greyback is the first creature ever to give a Time Agent a sexually transmitted disease!"

Ianto tilted his head at that, shocked by the wording. No. He had to be exaggerating. Technically that was certainly one way lycanthropy could be transmitted... but Greyback? "Jack-" he asked warily.

"Well it would, wouldn't it?" Jack retorted, the way he said that did alleviate Ianto's fear somewhat.

"Three days, Jack. You can go without for three days, the rest of the time you're as good as any other human."

"And during those three days I try to kill you?" Jack snapped, "No, I can't live like this!" he snarled, "You shouldn't even be talking to me, leave me alone!" And with a shrieking echo of feedback, the commlink was cut off.

x x x

Scabior Greyback sulked dramatically as he stood, head bowed, before the Dark Lord.

To his right stood his father, Fenrir, whom he usually made a very concerted effort to avoid. Scabior was a wizard, Fenrir was not. That, and his total obedience to the Dark Lord were all that kept his father from trying yet again to turn him. This month's danger had passed, but he did not doubt the vindictive nature of both the other men in the room to lock him up if he failed to live up to the Dark Lord's expectations.

"Why not send Lestrange?" Fenrir asked, a question Scabior would also have voiced if not for fear of losing favour.

"She has failed me too often." the Dark Lord decreed, his icy voice sending a chill up Scabior's spine as he spoke, "And you, Fenrir, should have far less trouble tracking the Harkness boy. If you find him, you may keep him for yourself if you wish, but you will keep him imprisoned and alive regardless. And you will bring Ianto Jones to me."

"Do we know which direction they went?" Scabior asked.

"The Anti-Apparation wards were penetrated to the south-east." the Dark Lord answered, "Where they went after that is yours to find out. Now go."

"Yes, My Lord." Both men answered, before bowing to their master, and leaving the Manor.

x x x


	121. Dancing With The Beast

x x x

**Chapter 121: Dancing With The Beast**

x x x

Harry was sitting in the living room of Shell Cottage, staring almost blankly across the room, half-ignoring as Hermione and Draco plotted about Gringotts, and Ron paced in agitation. Fleur glided into the room, and not one of the three young men gave the part-Veela more than a second glance and a brief word of thanks as she set a tray of sandwiches on the table and drifted off again.

It was just as Ron managed to shrug the worst of his frustration and dive for a sandwich, that Ianto entered the room. He glanced around carefully, and then promptly crossed over to the couch where Hermione sat, just across from Ron, and asked bluntly, "Did you tell anyone?"

Ron looked up, swallowed the mouthful of sandwich he had just taken, and shook his head, "Not my business, is it?"

"I think it's alright for these three to know." Ianto said simply, "Just don't tell anyone who doesn't already know Jack's Secret... and try and encourage Remus to keep his mouth shut when we see him."

Ron cocked his head to the side, shrugged, "You tell them, then." and went on with his lunch, unperturbed.

"Jack's a werewolf?" Harry asked, noticing the way Draco suddenly dropped what he had been doing and a flash of near-panic crossed his face. "I thought your commlinks has privacy settings?"

Ianto stared at that. He _had _ only been transmitting his end of the conversation to Jack... but apparently Jack hadn't bothered or had been to distressed to remember to do so. "Shit. You heard that?"

"Yes." Harry answered, scowling.

"Hang on, when did this happen?" Draco demanded.

"Two nights ago." Ianto answered, real pain in his voice. Draco still looked blatantly uncomfortable, but did seem to relax at this statement.

"Great, two of them." he muttered darkly, "At least the teacher knows how to keep his paws to himself."

Hermione hit him upside the head with a rolled up piece of parchment, and he did nothing more than glare at her for it.

"Yes." Ianto said bitterly, "That's probably a side-effect of the combination of having a contagious disease and being a sane person."

"And just when I think he's getting over his prejudices." Hermione said darkly.

"Muggles are just ignorant of our ways." Draco snapped right back at her, "Werewolves will try to kill you."

"Wait, why is it okay for us to know _because _ we know Jack's Secret?" Hermione asked, her tone unsettlingly leading.

Ianto glanced at the doors carefully, then decided to be paranoid anyway, "Snape made us all study werewolves when Lupin was teaching... I'm pretty sure if you put those two details together you'll find an answer."

Hermione frowned, but then the realisation crossed her face, "Oh..." and she seemed even more uncomfortable with the new information than she had with not knowing something.

"Yeah." Ianto sighed, "Except he won't let me talk to him."

"Well don't look at me." Draco said immediately, "I heard the temper tantrum last night, no way I'm going near a werewolf with that kind of PMS."

Hermione hit him again. Ron snickered at Draco's expense, but sobered up pretty quickly when Ianto looked his way.

It was Harry who spoke up next, "You don't really think he'd let any of us talk to him if even you can't get him to talk?"

"We all know the only 'cure' for lycanthropy. Just go up there when he's asleep, and do it." Draco said bluntly, "He'll thank you for it afterwards."

Once more, Hermione hit him... and Ron threw a piece of parchment across the room at him. "Shut it, Malfoy." Ron snapped.

"You really think I could?" Ianto asked sceptically. There was a pained and bitter note to his words, which showed he had given it serious thought, and knew perfectly well that logically Draco was right... but that didn't make it any easier.

"I will, then." Draco offered bluntly.

Ianto stared coldly at him, "You know..." he said, standing up slowly, glaring that particular brand of bloody murder that he had wielded when Jack had been abducted by the Death Eaters, "I hated you for months after we faked your death, Draco. Not because you fucked Jack... because you let him die for you. So don't you dare lay a hand on him."

Most people would follow that up with a threat to motivate the command. Ianto didn't need to, the 'or else' was left hanging in the air, so tangible it felt like a knife. Left to the imagination it was more horrible than any words. Draco did not dare protest.

Ianto turned sharply on his heel and left the room in a way that was precisely not running away... because he clearly wanted to.

"So the rumours are true?" Ron muttered, staring at Draco, "I thought it was just a joke!"

x x x

Two weeks passed interminably slowly.

Jack didn't let anyone into the room, and refused to listen to any attempt to negotiate with him. Food was magically transported into the room, and it did get eaten, which surprised Ianto who had known that Jack was perfectly capable of starving himself when he was upset, and it never seemed to kill, or even harm him beyond making him tired all the time.

But it was incredibly frustrating when he knew- even if he hated it- that he had a solution to Jack's torment, if only the stubborn bastard would listen to him!

Remus had stopped visiting. The last time Ianto saw him he looked quite upset with Jack's lack of progress. It seemed that now he had given up, and didn't want to witness the kind of self-destruction he was used to seeing from his fellow victims.

Bill, Fleur, and even Fred and George who visited once to catch up with Harry, all asked after Jack. Ianto told them, in his best 'it's just a weather balloon, not an alien spacecraft' voice, that Jack was just a bit unwell but he would be fine. He forced himself to believe it, too.

As if this wasn't enough, Ianto kept fighting with his own emotions and conscience about whether or not he could even deal the killing blow himself.

At least when they had faked Draco's death, it hadn't been himself to curse that Bludger at Jack. No, Ianto's accomplice for that was now buried in the garden of this house. The elf had the experience for it, and had done an excellent job... after Ianto had reassured him that it wouldn't cause any permanent harm. Something Ianto couldn't be sure was true... every time he saw Jack die it hurt him so much, and he knew it hurt Jack too, even if Jack would do his best not to admit it.

He wondered how many times a person could go through something like that and still be able to _feel _ at all. Feel physically, feel emotionally... feel human.

Or was living the greater curse than dying? His rational, logical mind told him Jack would prefer one quick death to living with this new curse... but Ianto did not want to be the one to personally enable that death. Tell Jack, most likely once he got the chance. Kill him? Never.

As he had been thinking this, he had walked along the path from the cottage up to the wooded area where he and Jack and Ron had appeared two weeks ago. It was secluded and serene. Idyllic in a way that put you in mind of picnics and cute little woodland critters.

Except there were no cute little critters, though one would imagine there should be. Not even a single bird in the trees.

Then a sudden snapping sound of Apparation directly behind him, and someone seized him, holding him back against a strong male chest with his arms pinned securely against his own body. He immediately began to struggle, well aware that while his first thought had been John Hart, this man was taller and John Hart had slightly more muscle than this man.

Then the man spoke, and Ianto immediately recognised the voice as Scabior Greyback, "Hello again, pretty boy." Ianto decided right there and then that he actually preferred Eye-Candy. It was more deliberately bitchy, but somehow it didn't bother him nearly as much.

He also briefly wondered what it was about him that was so attractive to psychopaths.

"Where's Jack?" another, much coarser voice demanded, emerging from the trees on the far side of the small clearing. There was no mistaking this vicious-looking beast of a man. It just had to be Fenrir Greyback.

"And where is Harry Potter?" Scabior added, "We know he was with you when you escaped. Just tell us where they are and neither of us will hurt you."

The way Fenrir's eyes ran over Ianto's body at that statement, was deeply unsettling... but then he turned away with genuine disgust, leaving Ianto to Scabior's mercy instead.

"I can't tell you." Ianto answered, "It's the Fidelius Charm."

This was true. While the grave marker for Dobby, and the wilder half of the garden could be seen, the building itself was protected, and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin had been the one to tell them its location. He had learned over the last two weeks that Bill Weasley returned the favour of keeping Remus and Tonks' home's location a Secret as well.

Fenrir growled viciously, stalking over to them and positively snarling in Ianto's face, "_LIAR!_"

"It's probably true." Scabior said idly, "I should have been able to track the enchantments further, but I can't... and give me one good reason why you can't track Harkness' scent beyond this clearing, if not the Fidelius?"

Fenrir snarled and stormed off across the clearing once more.

Scabior sighed, and leaned a little closer to Ianto, "Bring Jack out here, and you'll be safe. I know you can call him."

Ianto feigned cluelessness, "I don't think screaming for help will carry that far."

Scabior growled a bit, and roughly pulled the commlink from Ianto's ear, catching his hair in the process. He pressed the only external control on the device, and spoke, "Jack Harkness? Can you hear me?" there was no answer. "If you don't come out here, we're going to have to hurt your pretty little boyfriend, and I don't think either of us want that."

Fenrir grabbed Scabior's wrist, startling the younger man. Scabior flinched, then remained incredibly tense as Fenrir pulled the hand holding the commlink closer to his own face, "Get out here, boy, or I'll do to him what I did to you!" Fenrir snarled.

When Fenrir let go of his arm, Scabior feigned a look of indignity, but it was clear he had been greatly upset by that small physical contact, even as he held the commlink where he could speak into it again, "Now that would be a pity, wouldn't it, Jack? Come out here now, surrender, and I swear neither of us will hurt him."

Ianto tried one more time, futile as it was, to pull free of Scabior's grip, before relaxing slightly and leaning back against him, "You're being very specific that the two of you won't hurt me." he observed with forced calm, "So I'm guessing the Dark Lord wants me in one piece so he can hurt me himself?"

Scabior didn't answer, just kept alternately looking for where Jack might be coming from, and shooting blatantly uncomfortable glances in Fenrir's direction. It was clear to Ianto that not only did Scabior not get on with his father... he was actively afraid of him.

Time passed. Minutes drew out entirely too long, and Fenrir was getting agitated entirely too quickly.

Jack had not replied to the comms. There was no evidence he had even received the message. You had to activate the receiver of the comm to hear anyone talking on it, and Jack had been adamantly ignoring Ianto's attempts to communicate with him for the last two weeks.

There really wasn't much Ianto could do. He was being held by a wizard who held a wand to his throat. Ianto himself was entirely unarmed, his wand had been confiscated by the Death Eaters when he had been thrown in the prison cell with Jack, and there had been no opportunity to recover it before they fled the manor. Maybe he could get a lucky kick or punch in if he did it right, but even if he could escape from Scabior without being cursed, he doubted he could outrun Fenrir even when the werewolf was in human form. Even the odds of using his Animagus form to fly out of reach in time were pretty slim.

And worse, a wizard's best threats to a fleeing enemy usually didn't extend as far as cursed claw-marks which no magic could heal... and that was assuming Fenrir was under direct orders to keep him alive, which was not an assumption he dared make.

It did not take long for Fenrir to get too impatient, either, "He's not coming." he snorted, turning from his agitated pacing to sneer cruelly at Ianto, "I say we bloody this one up a bit."

"We have our orders." Scabior said coldly, "And if you screw this up, I swear I'll use Veritaserum to prove to the Dark Lord you're a liability that needs to be _put down_."

Fenrir growled, and raised his and to strike. Ianto honestly wasn't sure if he meant to hit him or Scabior... and he never would find out, because a curse struck Fenrir's arm with a blast of powerful magic. The snapping of bone and twisting of flesh, as well as the colour of the curse itself looked a lot like Reducto.

"Let him go." Harry Potter commanded. He stood at the far end of the clearing, not recognisably holding a wand, but Ianto was the one who taught them all the wand-up-the-sleeve trick in the first place.

Scabior chuckled, whether from an evil sense of good cheer that his plan was working, or at Fenrir's expense, it wasn't quite clear, and Ianto would guess at both. Either way, he had not yet moved the aim of his own wand from Ianto's throat. "Well look what we've got here. And I was counting on Harkness to show."

"Do you realise what you're saying?" Ianto asked with a smirk, turning his head to try to look around at his captor. "You were expecting the dangerous one, and you sound disappointed?"

Scabior's wand pressed up under Ianto's jaw, quite painfully, "Oh, do please learn when to shut up."

Ianto bit back the almost instinctive urge to say 'make me'... but then he could swear he smelled something burning. It was disgusting, like acrid smoke from seared flesh. An instant later, Fenrir howled in agony, and Ianto turned his head to see that Jack had managed to sneak up behind the werewolf and was holding something suspiciously silver-coloured around the beast's neck.

Ianto took full advantage of the moment of distraction, kicking hard at Scabior's shin, ducking down as he did so... which in turn gave Harry the perfect opportunity to curse Scabior in the face... which he did not hesitate to do, albeit only with a stunning spell.

As soon as his arms were free, Ianto snatched Scabior's wand from him, and turned to aim at the still conscious werewolf. Jack had managed to pull Fenrir down to his knees, howling in pain and clawing at his own neck in a futile attempt to free himself.

And Jack was laughing.

It was really kind of scary. Ianto exchanged a wary look with Harry, who shrugged and casually threw a binding spell at Scabior's unconscious body, just to be safe.

When Fenrir stopped screaming and his body went limp, all the hateful vengeance just seemed to evaporate from Jack in an instant, and he let go of the silver- was that a _necklace?_- he had been holding tight around the beast's throat. Harry and Ianto both took this cue to throw stunning spells at Fenrir... just to be safe.

Fenrir collapsed face-down on the ground, and Jack fell to his knees behind his victim, sitting back on his feet and staring at his own hands.

Ianto was at Jack's side in an instant, completely ignoring Jack's weak attempt to shrug him off. There were burn marks across the palms of Jack's hands, fine, deep lines as if they had been gouged out of the flesh, seared and cauterised. There were places at the sides of his hands were the bones showed through.

"Jack?" Ianto asked warily, only vaguely aware of Harry nudging Fenrir with his foot and eliciting a half-growled snort that proved the werewolf was only unconscious, not dead. Harry then efficiently cast a binding spell on Fenrir, as well.

"Worth it." Jack said distantly, turning his hands over and regarding equally horrific wounds on the backs of his hands, where the silver chain had been wrapped around them.

And now footsteps running up from the direction of Shell Cottage could be heard. Ianto didn't care much at all once he realised who it was... Bill, Ron, Fred and George Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Remus Lupin. Only Ron and Hermione were unarmed, but all seemed genuinely concerned.

He didn't care, because at the same moment, Jack threw his arms around Ianto and hugged him tight, like he never ever wanted to let go.

x x x

Ianto sat on the edge of the bed, Jack was sitting up with his back to a nicely arranged pile of pillows. Ianto and Ron between them had done a very thorough job of keeping everyone in the house at bay, with the exception of Hermione who had cast a few healing spells on Jack's hands and bandaged them up. The worst of the damage would be gone in a week, she said. A proper medi-witch could have healed it without the risk of scarring... Hermione didn't think she was that good, and everyone present had scoffed when that statement had dared pass her lips.

"I'm sorry, Ianto." Jack said gently.

"You know, if you had just listened to me..." Ianto said, frowning even as he did, "There is a cure, it's just not..."

The hopeful light in Jack's eyes at those words hurt Ianto deeply, because he knew Jack would want it, even if Ianto couldn't bring himself to do it. "Yes?" Jack prompted.

"If a werewolf dies, the curse- tecnically a _cursed disease_, really- stays with them." Ianto explained carefully, "It's been known for a werewolf who dies within thirty-minutes of a moonrise to actually be restored by the transformation. There's only one way to kill the wolf, and it will kill the human as well."

Jack's lip twitched and he leaned closer, "But that's not a problem for me, Ianto. Tell me."

"It's described as a 'lethal dose' of silver." Ianto scowled, "The books I've read since I was told this... they all say to end a werewolf's curse, a fatal wound needs to be inflicted with a silver weapon, or the werewolf needs to be in contact with so much silver that it burns up their whole body. That destroys every trace of lycanthropy, but there's no way to survive it." Ianto looked up at him with a weak and pained smile, "Well... unless you're you."

"We could make it quick. Painless." Jack said, sensing Ianto's discomfort, but misinterpreting it as only wishing to avoid seeing Jack in pain. He didn't seem to understand that Jack _being dead_, however temporary, hurt Ianto so much more. "Don't suppose we have any silver bullets? Bullet to the brain. That's the quickest, least painful, and easiest to recover from. Or a knife to the heart, takes a few minutes but the shock of blood loss blocks out the pain after a couple of seconds."

Ianto frowned, "Torchwood might have some silver bullets, but it would take a while to get them." he said carefully, "We might be able to get silver daggers from Diagon Alley, possibly even silver cutlery in this house."

"Yes, let's tell Owen you suggested that." Jack said with a grin, "He'd never let go of the idea of killing a werewolf with a silver fork, would he?"

Ianto did not even crack a smile. He knew that was meant to be a joke to ease the tension. "Jack, I don't know if I can do this. I mean-"

"Let me do it myself then. Wouldn't be the first time." Jack offered.

"You just need me to get you a suitable weapon. While Remus Lupin tries to spy on us to see if you're a suicide risk."

"Tell him the truth." Jack shrugged, "Better than playing mind-games with our own allies."

Ianto laughed weakly, "You make it sound so easy." he looked right at Jack now, tears forming in his eyes, "I hate seeing you die."

Jack sighed, shifting uncomfortably before reaching out and hugging him again. It was clear from his tension that he still wasn't over the concept of having a contagious disease... even though everyone who knew had reassured him it was only contagious for three days out of the month, and right now it was a new moon, the exact opposite of the time when lycanthropy was a danger to anyone.

"It doesn't make me feel any better that you come back." Ianto all-but cried into Jack's shoulder, "What if eventually you don't? It must hurt even when you do. I can't stand the thought of it, Jack."

"I'm sorry Ianto." he whispered softly in Ianto's ear, "I know what it feels like... seeing someone I love die. It never gets easier."

Ianto snorted, "Not even if it's the same irreverent immortal nearly every time."

"You don't have to watch. You don't even need to be there if you don't want to." Jack tried to offer as some kind of reassurance. It really didn't help. Ianto knew that Jack preferred it if someone he trusted was there to hold him when he resurrected, knew it helped, and wouldn't dream of depriving Jack of that comfort. He just wished Jack wouldn't have to die in the first place.

"Yes, I do."

x x x


	122. Different Morality

**Author's Note**: Beta suggested I put a warning for emotional stuff in this chapter.

x x x

**Chapter 122: Different Morality**

x x x

As it turned out, the only silver in the house was designed to be worn around Fleur's neck, wrists, fingers, or through her ears. She had at some stage also possessed a tiara, but it had been on loan from one of the Weasley family's old maiden aunts and had since been returned. None of these would make viable weapons. Even if Jack swallowed the jewellery, it wouldn't do enough damage to kill him... just enough to cause him a lot of pain.

When Ianto told Remus the truth, he had been sceptical, but given the nature of the Fidelius charm he had been unable to completely deny it. He had suggested the only place to get such weapons was probably in Diagon Alley, which was currently under Death Eater rule.

Even the Weasley twins had failed to find a source to acquire it. "Short of buying from a Muggle jewellers and melting it down ourselves... nope, nothing." they had answered... synchronised.

Word had passed through Gwen in her work in London, up to Tosh and Jack's past-self in Cardiff. Everyone agreed that, while an unpleasant solution, it would be better in the long run to do this. How word reached Owen, Ianto wasn't entirely sure, the comms didn't go that far. Still, a message relayed through Sirius Black (Ianto knew there should be a clue to how Owen heard, there), Owen had suggested silver nitrate as a lethal injection, 'Just dose him up with an anaesthetic first, because that shit burns even on normal humans'.

"Yes, because that's so much easier to get a hold of than a silver dagger." Ianto sniped darkly.

"I... think Snape might have a silver dagger." Sirius informed him sheepishly, "Bet your man in the school could swipe it."

"Yes, let's sic Owen on it." Ianto agreed with dark amusement. Snape may be an ally, but Ianto would still pay good money to be able to see his reaction to Owen's misbehaviour when it came to petty theft. The object being stolen was always replaced with something unpleasant.

"Guys..." Hermione said blankly, from the doorway, "I think I have a solution. We don't need to go anywhere to get it, but it might be very painful for Jack."

"What is it?" Ianto asked warily.

"Well... I've been doing research." she began.

"Naturally." Ianto agreed, she gave him a look that was half glare, half grin for it.

"It's about the... well, our plan to stop Vo- uh, You-Know-Who. You see, one of the main tools I read about before was Basilisk venom."

"Which doesn't work on lycanthropy." Sirius observed, "I mean, it would kill him, but not break the curse."

"I know that." Hermione said indignantly, "But I was trying to figure out why Dumbledore tried to leave Harry the Sword of Gryffindor in his will, and, well... it's goblin-made. Harry used it to kill the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, that's got to be why Dumbledore wanted us to have it."

"Goblin made?" Sirius asked with a scowl.

"She means it's a magical blade that repels everything that could weaken it, and absorbs the properties of everything that could strengthen it." Ianto said simply, as if knowing goblin lore was perfectly normal for a fifteen-year-old wizard. It really wasn't. "So thanks to its close encounter with a Basilisk, the sword is now envenomed, and could be used to destroy Horcruxes."

"And what if we applied silver to the blade, hmm?" Hermione offered, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"That's one badass sword." Sirius grinned.

"Yeah." Ianto said, more upset by the realisation that they were going to go through with this than anything else. "That could work." He just hoped he wasn't going to be the one to have to do it.

x x x

Scabior woke in a warmly lit room, on a comfortable bed. This was not like any place he was accustomed to. The manor was always cold, and before that he had lived in hovels or roughed it in fields. He didn't do 'homey', like this room was.

When he realised he was chained to the wall, he immediately began to struggle violently.

"Nobody's going to hurt you here." The voice that spoke was the kind of calm that cut through every other sound in the room, the kind of attention-grabbing tone that you could hear through a damned earthquake without the speaker needing to raise his voice.

He froze, and looked across the room to see Jack Harkness standing near the door, arms folded, looking like he would rather be anywhere but here. So basically exactly as uncomfortable as Scabior felt.

"Where am I?" Scabior demanded, before sitting up and glaring resentfully.

"I can't name the place." Jack shrugged, "But you are our prisoner, and since we're actually the good guys you'll be well looked after. Food, a shower, whatever you need short of freedom. We won't hurt you."

Scabior spat in his direction, and pulled sharply on the chains again, "Like I'd believe you, wolf!"

Jack snorted, "You believe everything your father and the Dark Lord tell you, do you? And even if I were a werewolf, you shouldn't judge an entire group of people for the crimes of a few. If we all did that, Harry Potter would be part of your little anti-Muggle brigade long ago, and that's just the first example I can think of."

Scabior shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room but seeing nothing threatening. In fact, it looked like the room had been cleared of anything that could be used as a weapon whatsoever... and Scabior could almost feel the wards around the room for keeping a person in. Not just anti-Apparation- that was around the entire building- but a whole host of others to prevent man-made or magical damage to the walls, windows, floor, ceiling and doors, as well.

"So what did you do with my father?" he asked, a hint of malevolent hope in his voice. These people were enemies, however 'good' they claimed to be. Surely they would want the beast to suffer, "Tell me you killed him."

"For now, he's locked up in a nice pre-made werewolf-proof cell in another location I can't name." Jack shrugged vaguely, "What happens to him in the near future is not mine to decide. I'm hardly the most deserving of vengeance upon him. Though the only one I know personally, who does truly deserve it, is entirely too decent a person to sink to the levels of torture I would consider appropriate."

A dark smile crossed Scabior's face, "I think I understand. You're like me... you were never innocent."

"I was once, but that was a very long time ago." Jack said, frowning now as he watched Scabior carefully, "I'm expecting you'll want those chains removed? They're only there to stop you from hurting yourself until I fully explain the situation, anyway."

"And the situation is?" Scabior asked sceptically.

Jack smirked. It was a dark smirk, less amusement and more malevolence. "This room is booby-trapped. If you touch any of the walls, windows or doors, you'll be hit with a Petrificus Totalus spell, which will alert us to the fact it was activated. We'd really rather you didn't do that, it would get annoying really fast, and then someone might curse you. Not me, but probably one of the other, more willing residents."

"Willing?" Scabior asked sceptically.

"To be here. To curse you. Either or." Jack shrugged, "You're not a victim here, you're a prisoner of war, afforded all the legal rights of both Muggle and magical treaties."

"So that includes cursing me?" Scabior snorted derisively.

"Only Petrificus, and only if you misbehave." Jack said brightly.

With that he approached, carefully removed the shackles from Scabior's wrists, and stepped back sharply in case Scabior tried anything... which he didn't.

A long moment of silence passed before Jack asked something that had clearly been on his mind. "You hate Fenrir. You don't seem especially loyal to the Dark Lord? Why join him?"

Scabior sneered darkly, "Muggles. They're just as bad as the wolves."

Jack looked surprised by this, but then managed to ask, "Tell me."

Scabior had never shared the details before, but he had never exactly been asked before, either. "I was born into the wolf pack. Mother was only a child, father ripped her apart because her body wasn't able to birth me naturally. First full moon, they all left, abandoned me in a field, and the Muggle authorities found me. Took until I was five for the wolves to find me, like dark saviours in the night, first people to show me kindness... then I spent the next six years alternately being kidnapped and abandoned to go back to the Muggles." he spat the word Muggles with deepest loathing for the vermin of which he spoke. "By the time I got a Hogwarts letter, I was beginning to realise the wolves were just as cruel as the Muggles, they just didn't do it to me, kept it out of my sight, on my father's orders. Hogwarts was a... new experience."

"So the Muggles who raised you... hurt you." Jack asked, too carefully.

Scabior pulled a disgusted face, "Life is pain, I learned that younger than most. Some fools go their whole lives in blissful ignorance."

"And you never considered the possibility of avoiding these people? Run away further?"

"Why bother? That was all I knew." Scabior shrugged, "Hogwarts was different. People acted like they cared... but still never for me. On my first day, they introduced me by my father's name. No one would give me a chance, and when I tried to make them befriend me they said it proved I was like him."

"When violence is all you've seen, it becomes the only tool you know how to wield." Jack said softly.

Scabior smiled almost warmly, sitting forward in a way that leaned him closer to Jack, "See, you do understand me."

"And you need to learn that not everyone is like that." Jack said, leaning closer. He was almost nose-to-nose with him, "Some of us do care. Accept it for what it really is, and you might find a better way to live."

Scabior hesitated. He still believed Jack had been turned, and therefore didn't want to give in to every instinct screaming for him to grab the young man and kiss him. Take from him, because he seemed so willing to give. Finally he took a deep, steadying breath, and leaned back slightly, "We'll see. I won't say no yet."

And when Jack smiled at those words, Scabior felt a genuine warmth in his heart. Something that felt far better than the pain of his enemies. A _good _ feeling, like pleasing this young man was in itself reward. And he vowed to himself to really try. To honestly give this strange new way of looking at others a chance... so maybe he could feel that emotion, that _good _ feeling again.

x x x

Hermione frowned in concentration as she worked, diligently running Fleur's silver necklace ("Keep eet, I do not wish to 'ave zat murderer'z blood in my jewelleree.") along the length of the sword of Gryffindor. It had been over two and a half hours, all four of the boys present had thoroughly exhausted their respective repertoires of rude jokes on the subject.

Draco refused to be present. He had muttered vaguely about werewolves, announced that Owen Harper might fall in love with him when he explained his hatred better, and stalking off as soon as Jack entered the room.

Ron and Harry were both blatantly torn between offering moral support, wanting to help without wanting to be the ones to do the deed themselves, and thinking maybe they should leave. Ianto sat in the corner looking very miserable, while Jack paced nearby, getting more irritable by the minute.

"You said it would only take a few minutes." he insisted.

"That was before I read up on this." Hermione announced with forced calm, "When the compound to be added is solid, it takes up to three hours constant work for this surface-area of enchanted steel."

"It's been almost that long." Ianto observed darkly.

"Yes, and I'm almost done." Hermione agreed with a nod. With one last run of the silver up the length of the enchanted blade, she stood up and held the weapon out in Jack's direction, "I'd like to test its quality before it's used for more... drastic measures. If you don't mind?" she informed him efficiently.

Jack nodded, and touched the flat of the blade with his palm.

A soft hissing sound and the strong acrid stench of seared flesh were the instantaneous reaction to that touch which would have been harmless to any uncursed individual. The Basilisk venom in the blade was only harmful if it were to draw blood.

Hermione winced in sympathy, but Jack didn't even flinch. He let go and stared almost blankly at the burn on his palm, before nodding to her. He seemed almost detached. Cold, and kind of empty.

When Hermione handed the sword to Jack by the hilt, it didn't burn him. Of course it didn't, she had only treated the blade, after all. She glanced nervously at Ron and Harry, then back to the other two boys, "Are you _absolutely _ sure about this?" she asked him.

"Yes." Jack answered, while the pained look in Ianto's eyes seemed to scream 'no'.

"Maybe we should, er, leave you two alone?" Harry asked. Ron nodded in agreement.

Hermione looked to both the younger boys for confirmation. Ianto didn't move an inch, but Jack nodded slowly, "Probably for the best."

Ron and Harry practically raced from the room, as fast as they could go while still trying to look like they weren't fleeing in horror as she knew they were. Hermione lingered a moment longer, backing towards the door and offering a somewhat futile and illogical, "Good luck." before turning and leaving herself.

x x x

The following evening, near midnight on the night of the full moon... and Jack had not turned.

He sat with Ianto in the bedroom he had been brought to a month earlier. Jack was holding Fleur's silver chain, now attached to a silver Sickle coin as a pendant/talisman, which Jack had made himself. The chain was wrapped around his hand, so the coin rested in his palm, and he was watching it with an eerie, distant kind of relief.

"I still don't understand, Jack." Ianto said, watching warily as Jack ran his fingers over the silver coin in his hand like a lifeline. Like he still needed this proof even as the full moon shone in through the window bathing them both in a cold light. The shaky and infinitely relieved smile on Jack's face was absolutely heart-breaking. "If he didn't bite you... then how?"

Jack didn't answer right away. Just stared at some invisible point in thin air, which seemed to be a few inches in front of his face. Finally, the overly diplomatic response came, "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." Ianto challenged.

Jack opened his mouth immediately, as if about to speak... but then he didn't. He thought about it for a moment, before sighing and trying again, "Moral values in the fifty-first century are _very _ different from this time." he said carefully, "I know it's something that would traumatise a person raised in this era, but it didn't upset me like you'd imagine. My real problem was with the fact he turned me into a wolf."

"Jack..." Ianto said warily, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder tentatively.

Jack smirked wryly, "I tried explaining this to Emily Holroyd once. She called me a sick freak."

"Yeah, and she was a heartless amoral bitch." Ianto countered immediately, "Please, Jack. Tell me."

"Greyback didn't hurt me that much." Jack started, his tone carefully casual, "Lestrange cut on me with a flashy knife, and what's-his-name personally spent hours casting the Cruciatus curse on me, but after I told him what he wanted to know, he gave me to Greyback. All _his _ previous victims were severely traumatised, so I guess what's-his-name assumed the wolf could break me as well."

"He nearly did." Ianto said gently, "You really freaked out after you turned."

Jack shuddered slightly, clutching the coin that little bit tighter, "Yeah, well... we cured that, and now I'm fine."

"But I still don't-" Ianto started. Jack interrupted him by holding up a hand.

Silence reigned for a moment, as Jack seemed to carefully choose his words. Then, "I already told you how he did it."

Ianto's eyes darted for a moment, recalling their previous conversation- one-sided as that had felt- when Jack had been so very distressed by the transformation. Then he realised what Jack meant, and inhaled sharply, shocked by the implication, "You called it a sexually transmitted disease."

Jack nodded slowly, but before Ianto could further express his horror, Jack began to explain, "He told me I was a bit old for him, but still good for some fun anyway." Ianto shuddered at that thought, wishing but knowing better than to hope that Jack would just stop talking right now. "And I wasn't in any position to stop him, if I had tried. But even when you're cornered with no chance of escape, there's always a choice to fight or surrender... and that was actually the first time in my life I thought acceptance was the better option."

Ianto's mouth fell open in shock. "You _let _ that... that _animal_... do that to you?" he gasped.

"Even if it weren't for the fact that resisting would have hurt me so much more, and in a way what's-his-name would have won then... it was a matter of pride. Nobody rapes me."

Ianto stared for several awed seconds, before shaking his head, "I'm not sure how to take this." he said quietly, "You... you let Fenrir Greyback take advantage of you, just to spite Vol-" he brought himself up short, remembering the taboo on the name at the last second.

"Well..." Jack said carefully, "I came on to Bellatrix when she was cutting me up and trying to finger-paint with my blood. I laughed after every Cruciatus curse what's-his-name threw at me. It seemed like the best way to dismiss this attempt at torture. Besides, the wolf isn't that bad to look at."

Ianto shuddered in disgust at this, and when Jack reached out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, Ianto flinched away from the touch. It had never bothered him when Jack flirted, kissed, or even seriously propositioned others. Hell, he had even dismissed that entire thing with Draco Malfoy, without much more than a few idle threats. He fully understood that to Jack sex was just a fun physical activity, and what he and Ianto shared was the only one (in this lifetime, at least) that counted for anything important. He didn't usually get jealous over Jack. Protective? yes. Jealous? no.

But this? Jack had been faced with the prospect of being raped, and chosen to consent instead of fighting? Ianto really couldn't understand that.

"Fenrir Greyback may be a paedophile, even by my century's definitions." Jack said carefully, "But he didn't want to _hurt _ me... just fuck me."

"Oh my god." Ianto whispered, covering his face with his hands, utterly shocked, as he tried to process this information without thinking about it in any kind of detail.

"Lord Snake-Face is not well-known for his ability to understand the motivations of others. He only understood the fact that Greyback tended to traumatise children. Even after hours of Legilimency, he really had no idea what he was putting in the same room with his lapdog." Jack smirked faintly, "Honestly, I enjoyed it."

Ianto cringed again, at those words. Then he very sharply stood up and crossed the room, away from Jack. He didn't want to think about it like this.

He wasn't sure which was worse, the thought that Greyback had meant to rape Jack... or that Jack had given in and actually _enjoyed _ it! While the first option would have made so much more sense to him, the fact that Jack hadn't been seriously hurt by the encounter, either physically or emotionally, made Ianto want to take his word for it that it was better this way.

Although in all honesty, he was still having some trouble picturing the scenario in which Jack would be unable to defend himself in the first place.

But then the silence must have drawn on for too long, while Ianto considered this, because Jack finally spoke up again, asking softly, "Would you rather pity me for not having the choice to refuse him, or forgive me for making the choice to accept something that offends you so much?"

Ianto spun around sharply to stare at him, uncomprehending.

"Because I know I'd prefer the latter." Then it sank in. Jack was actually apologising... or at least the closest he got to it when the mask of your-words-can't-hurt-me was still in place.

Ianto shook his head, "You don't need to apologise." he said quickly. Jack frowned at this. "I just don't understand how you could do that."

"Can you just accept that it's part of how I look at sex?" Jack asked, standing and approaching him slowly.

He watched as Jack carefully palmed the silver coin, but after the way he had behaved over the transformation Ianto seriously doubted that he had put it away... or even so much as allowed the innocuous piece of metal that so violently burned and poisoned werewolves to part company with his skin.

"To use this century's extremely unflattering terminology, I'm just such a prolific slut that I'm perfectly capable of simply laying back and enjoy it, even when I don't like the individual I'm with." Jack stopped right in front of Ianto now, and tentatively held out a hand, hoping Ianto would take it. When he didn't, Jack spoke again, "You know it doesn't affect how I feel for you... and to be perfectly honest, I would not be above murdering him in cold blood."

Ianto blinked, a bit startled by that... but then he cautiously took Jack's hand in his, smiling uncertainly, "All that matters now is that you're okay." he forced himself to say, still not entirely sure he could understand this well enough to truly believe that Jack _was _ okay.

Jack grinned, then without warning, he closed the distance between them, and kissed Ianto. "Never been better."

x x x


	123. The Wand Chooses The Wizard

x x x

**Chapter 123: The Wand Chooses The Wizard**

x x x

It was generally accepted at Hogwarts these days, that the D.A. ran the school. The Death Eaters _thought_ they were in charge, but the D.A. were playing them like puppets from behind the scenes. The figureheads of the D.A. were Neville and Ginny, true inspirations of hope and determination.

The power behind the metaphorical crown was Owen Bloody Harper.

He was like the freakin' Godfather of Hogwarts. He even quoted the movie occasionally... mostly to throw off the purebloods.

Owen made the plans, orchestrated the dirty work of their execution, and liaised with the real resistance outside the school. Everyone knew that he was in contact with Sirius Black, known to be one of the greatest wizards opposing the Death Eaters, and infamous for his ability to acquire anything for anyone, no questions asked.

This was how Peeves got his constant supply of explosives and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products.

Oh, the Death Eaters tried to stop the supply by threatening Ginny. This worked about as well as might be expected. Ginny promptly and downright cheerfully disappeared off the Death Eaters' radar, her location still easily known to all of the D.A.

Naturally, the D.A.'s hideout was a Secret of the Fidelius variety.

It was as carefully orchestrated as the best organised crime rings of history. Owen Bloody Harper actually lived up to his self-appointed status.

Alexander Smith waited just inside the door of the Gryffindor Common room where Owen was holding court.

Sure, Alex was a Slytherin, but those differences had long ago gone out the window. It wasn't Gryffindor versus Slytherin anymore. It was those who valued their personal freedom versus Death Eaters, and while it was true that Slytherin house held a fair few junior Death Eaters, the D.A. had managed to locate a few of those Death Eaters outside of Slytherin house, as well as Jack Harkness' very well-known disagreements with the Dark Lord, and even the most vehement 'all Slytherins are evil' advocates had caved under this evidence.

"Delivery from Toshiko." Romilda Vane said, cheerfully setting a small foot-long package in brown paper on the table in front of Owen.

"Oh, this looks like..." Owen tore it open to reveal an eight-inch metal tube, which rested in his hand just like the hilt of a sword, "Yes! I knew she could do it!" he crowed, "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

Everyone in the room had the common sense to back up at those words. Owen Harper saying the word 'fun' usually meant that the minimum safe distance was the other end of the country. As it was, he was given about half the free space of the tower common-room.

Which was a very good thing, because when he pressed a button on the metal tube, a green light shot out the end of it... and stopped about two and a half feet from its point of origin, holding a solid beam of colour, which hummed ominously as Owen turned it around.

"Green? I asked for red!" Owen protested, grinning even as he said it.

"Isn't red the evil colour in Star Wars?" one of the Hufflepuffs present asked.

"Evil... house pride... difference?" Owen asked, glancing right at Alex as he said it. Alex tried not to smirk, but when he failed in this he just shrugged.

"What is it?" Padma Patil asked.

"I'm going to start mispronouncing your name now, if you don't mind." Owen informed her cheerfully. Nobody laughed. Owen looked around with a slightly confused frown for a moment, before some kind of realisation dawned and he muttered. "Oh, right... too early." he shrugged and announced cheerfully, "It's a lightsaber. You can blame Jack Harkness for this."

"What exactly is a lightsaber?" Padma demanded.

"Does it work?" that same Hufflepuff asked, a bit too eagerly in Alex's opinion, "Does it cut stuff?"

"It's a laser sword." Alex informed her, "It's fiction, nobody has ever made a real one before. A laser is a beam of concentrated light generated by a Muggle machine... but they don't have finite length, they keep going until they hit something."

"So how can you have one, then?" Padma asked sceptically.

"Binding charms." Owen said, his grin showing just a few too many teeth, "Simple, huh?"

"This unholy union of Muggle and magical technologies is... absolutely beautiful." Alex said with a smirk, "Can I have one?"

"They're not cheap." Owen said, deactivating the thing and looking down at the letter that came with it, "Now she's got the spell set down, Tosh says she can make about one every two days, but material cost is about seven hundred pounds each... uh, that's one hundred and forty galleons a piece. If you plan to use them against Death Eaters, she'll do it for cost, after the war ends price goes up to three thousand galleons each, to discourage dismemberment."

"Dismemberment?" Padma asked nervously.

Owen activated the lightsaber again, and carefully waved it down so the blade went through the table. It showed absolutely no resistance as it sliced the solid wood in half. As he turned around Romilda was already casting a Reparo charm and fixing the object easily enough, but the ease of the damage was unsettling. Doubly so when Owen casually waved the weapon in the direction of the mantelpiece, and a chunk of solid stone fell out from where the beam passed through it, edges glowing yellow... _melted_.

"Even I'm not sure about using this in combat." Owen informed them, deactivating it and giving them all a serious look. "Ever waved a sword or stick at something, and hit your own head? With this, that's instant death." He grinned ferally, "Now I just want our enemies to _know_ that, too."

The absolute awe-inspired silence was such that it would probably take that lightsaber to cut the tension.

"I'm only even gonna sell this to people who prove they can handle a sword like a pro. Price be damned." Owen said simply, "Requests will be scheduled with an interview. Ask Rommy."

Romilda waved sheepishly, producing a Muggle notebook and pen. Alex honestly got the impression the girl had been wrangled into being Owen's secretary and/or PA... and she certainly took to the role well, as a few Gryffindors immediately formed a line to get their names taken down for consideration for this new weapon.

"Put that and a well-controlled levitation spell together... sweep it through an enemy horde." Alex offered brightly, as he stepped up to Owen's repaired desk. It was his turn to speak to the leader of the resistance now.

"I like how you think, Smith." Owen grinned, leaning back smugly on the back legs of his chair, "And you're here because...?"

"I have some information that needs to reach Ianto Jones. I hear he was part of a jailbreak last month, and I think he might like this."

Owen sat forward sharply, "Can be arranged. What kind of information?"

"Wandlore." Alex shrugged, "He expressed an interest in the subject, and this is quite... rare information. Very difficult to acquire."

"You stole it?" Owen asked, holding his hand out. Alex reluctantly handed the old tomb over to him.

"Borrowed without permission. I would appreciate the opportunity to return it to its rightful place once your friend has read and, no doubt, copied it."

"My friend? Not yours?" Owen asked, idly flicking through the pages. He seemed uninterested and closed it fairly quickly.

"I'd call him an ally. There is a difference."

"I love Slytherins." Owen grinned, before adding sharply, "In an entirely platonic way, of course."

Alex rolled his eyes, "Of course. So you can send it?"

"Sure. Ten sickles for costs. Five more because I don't like you."

Alex laughed, and handed over the money, "Love the method, hate the man?" Owen nodded, and Alex smirked, "Feeling's mutual."

x x x

Garrick Ollivander was currently sitting up in bed, in a cosy room on the third floor of the bungalow he had been brought to upon being rescued from the Dark Lord's clutches.

Recovering from over a year of torture at the Dark Lord's hands is not something most people can do easily. Jack Harkness being the blatant exception, as he entered the room now carrying a tray of food and genuinely smiling as he set the tray across Garrick's lap and promptly sat in the chair next to the bed.

Certainly, young Mr Harkness' torture had only lasted for three weeks, but he was still over it surprisingly fast. In a way, this was encouraging to see, a sense of hope that there was a life and future to return to eventually.

"We've got a present for you, when you're done with lunch." Harkness informed him.

"It's a loan." Ianto Jones insisted, having arrived in the doorway just in time to hear this, and now closing the door behind him. He was carrying a red-leather-bound book in one hand, close to his chest in a somewhat reverent way. "If I don't return it to Alex, I am told they will never find my body."

"And then this metaphorical 'they' will gouge their own eyes out in horror when they find Alex's body after what I do to him." Harkness added cheerfully.

"I'm sure Alex's threat was idle, but I'd like to return the book when we're done anyway." Jones chided, taking Harkness' remark a bit too seriously in Garrick's opinion.

"Make a copy." Harkness said idly.

"You say that as if you think I haven't already." Jones sounded positively scandalised.

Harkness just grinned.

Through this exchange, though he watched it quite intently, Garrick ate his meal in calm silence. He was still unable to stomach a large quantity in one sitting, and so he was done fairly quickly.

The door opened and Harry Potter arrived quickly closing the door, "Am I late?"

"Perfect timing." Harkness said, lifting the lunch tray away as Jones handed Garrick the book he had brought.

Mr Potter sat on the arm of Harkness' chair, watching intently, while Jones leaned over Garrick's shoulder to help him with the book.

Upon reading the title, Garrick gasped in surprise, "Why this... this is the book of Igeir the Ingenious. An ancient wandmaker, said to have once worked alongside Merlin himself. My family once kept this book, and ancient texts like it, but they went missing almost a century ago."

Harkness and Jones exchanged a dubious look that spoke volumes. Clearly they had not realised this text was stolen property. How and where they obtained it, however, was not of any great concern to Garrick.

He opened the book and proceeded to read, managing with very little effort to ignore the tension in the air as the three teenagers awaited his reaction.

"Ah, a sceptic of the Elder Wand, like so many." Garrick murmured to himself, as he read a particularly fascinating passage. "This theory they call the Deathly Hallows is new to me. Fascinating. I must say, I am surprised Igeir would dismiss the Elder Wand as metaphor so thoroughly, especially for one who lived in a time it was most coveted."

"You told... the Dark Lord... about the Elder Wand?" Potter asked. The hesitation in the name clearly for practical purposes alone.

Garrick nodded slowly, "He seemed most intent." He frowned, turning the page of the book. "Now this is quite fascinating."

"What is it?" Potter asked, though Garrick could see victorious grins on the faces of Mr Jones and Mr Harkness. They had already read this, and simply relied on Garrick's affinity and expertise to comprehend it best.

"A spell of understanding a wand's nature, beyond merely witnessing its choices." Garrick said with some awe, "Naturally, the wand chooses the wizard, but it has long been known that there are laws which govern wand ownership. Claiming a wand in battle will usually- though not necessarily always- cause the conquered wand to bend its will to its new master. This text details more, and a way to trace a wand's allegiance over its lifetime."

Jones offered Garrick the wand he had taken from Scabior, "Can you tell us about this one?"

Taking the wand in his hands, Garrick concentrated deeply, as the text indicated, and soon he could sense a path and a list of names attached to emotions. "Elm and dragon heartstring, eight and three-quarter inches. Elegant and smooth, best suited for duelling and charms. I remember selling this wand to a Muggle-born girl by the name of Elizabeth Smith in nineteen-sixty-seven. She died during the Dark Lord's first rise to power, and I can sense now that it was stolen in combat by Rabastan Lestrange, but it would not work for him and was later gifted to Scabior Greyback after an accident destroyed his own wand. It was a loyal companion to Scabior, but changed its allegiance when taken in combat..." Garrick looked up at Mr Jones, now, "By you. This wand is now yours, Mr Jones."

Ianto shifted a bit, uncomfortable with the level of detail that went into, but nodded and took the wand back.

Harkness nudged Potter, who then offered another wand to be examined. Garrick frowned at this wand, "English oak and dragon heartstring, eleven inches, rigid and unyielding. A powerful affinity for Defence Against The Dark Arts." Garrick looked directly at Jack, who shrugged slightly. He returned his attention to the wand, and saw something most extraordinary, "This wand was gifted, ceremonially and wilfully, in time of great need... to you, Mr Potter. Its allegiance is shared between you both, but if it were forced to choose it would turn against its original owner."

"Good." Harkness said with a nod.

Potter looked both bewildered and amused by this blunt outburst, but he seemed to accept the news surprisingly well, as he took the wand back from Garrick.

"And this one?" Potter offered another wand.

"Walnut and dragon heartstring." Garrick said calmly, "Twelve-and-three-quarter inches. Unyielding. This wand belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange, I remember the day she bought it, the summer after her fifth year in Hogwarts. Her previous wand, a lovely blackthorn and unicorn tail-hair, ten inches and quite swishy, had been shattered in a duel at the end of the year. Such a shame." He shook his head sadly. "Now this wand lies dormant, its allegiance broken by combat, it awaits another with a will of steel to claim it."

Potter nodded slowly, taking back the wand.

"This is the original copy of the book." Jones said, standing up, "You can keep it if you want. I like to think highly of my forgery skills."

Garrick smiled, but shook his head, "The information is all that concerns to me. If this book's current owner is so adamant as to threaten you, I would not wish you to come to harm for the sake of a copy."

"I could take him." Jones said idly, "But I'd rather not bother, so I'll sort it out so you get a copy, then."

There was an uneasy silence, mostly emanating from Mr Potter, who glanced at the door, and then back to the other two, "I think we need to talk about... er..."

"That." Harkness interrupted, also standing up, "Yes. It was nice talking to you, Mr Ollivander."

Garrick smiled and nodded, "I thank you for this gift." he said to Jones, then to Potter he added, "And for my life."

x x x

The moment they were outside Ollivander's room, Harry slumped down, clutching his head in pain. Jack was at his side in an instant, and thundering footsteps on the stairs indicated the approach of Ron Weasley, as well.

Harry remained silent, cringing in pain, for several more seconds, both Jack and Ron clearly unsure what to do about it... then a moment later Harry's eyes snapped open, almost glowing green for an instant... then, "Now that's just uncivilised." he muttered, clearly channelling his own Slytherin side in the snarky tone he employed.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"He... he stole from Dumbledore's grave." Harry scowled, "The Elder Wand."

"What?!" Ron demanded, horrified.

Jack wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste as well, "Grave-robbing after, what... eight months? That's disgusting."

"Can I just interject an entirely outdated joke about how the Dark Lord smells with no nose?" Ianto asked, trying not to smirk.

Harry spluttered, Ron laughed outright, Jack just grinned.

"Why are we doing him the respect of calling him Dark Lord?" Ron asked, as he finally came down from his fit of laughter at what, to him, must have been an entirely new joke. "Shouldn't we go back to What's-His-Face again? I preferred that."

"Force of habit, spending about five months pretending to be loyal to him." Ianto shrugged vaguely.

"Okay, back to the point... Harry, what are we gonna do, if he's got the Elder Wand?" Ron asked, bordering on panic, "Isn't that gonna make it harder to stop him?"

"Same way we were planning to all along." Harry said, pulling himself to his feet, "We destroy the last Horcrux, and then I fight him."

"With the Elder Wand on his side?" Ron demanded sceptically.

"Because nobody's ever killed the owner of that wand before." Ianto sniped sarcastically, smirking faintly.

"I love a challenge." Jack agreed.

"You two are insane!" Ron spluttered.

"They're also right." Harry pointed out, "We do have to stop him. This is the only way."

"I'll speak to Griphook, shall I?" Ianto offered, "I, unlike most wizards, know goblin customs."

Ron sulked a bit, but then nodded, "I'll go with you, don't worry I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Harry..." Jack said, slowly... thoughtfully.

Harry turned to him curiously, "I think... I need to talk to you about something important."

Harry nodded, "You two go ahead, yeah?" Harry offered to Ianto, "I think we're running out of time."

Ianto nodded and led Ron away.

Just as they were headed for Griphook's room, Hermione caught up to them, "Hey, I just thought of something. I've asked Bill to contact Mad-Eye, but it should work."

"Yeah?" Ron asked sceptically.

"I think I may be able to help us get into Gringotts." she said brightly.

"We were just on our way to talk to the goblin." Ianto added, "Maybe you should join us?"

Hermione nodded eagerly.

x x x

"Hey! Sweet setup you've got down here." Salazar looked up at the intruder with anger and resentment, but the man continued relentlessly, "Much nicer than that sewer Jack likes to call a base. Always did prefer the dungeon-y feel."

"How did you get in here?" Salazar snapped, glaring bitterly at the man.

He shrugged, "I know things. Castle likes me. Think I've got some Gryffindor in my blood... y'know, literally."

Salazar snorted, "Among other things." he grumbled, eyeing the man dubiously.

"Yeah, well finding a purebred human where I'm from... ha, good luck. Most of us are at least one eighth alien."

"Extra-terrestrial?" Salazar asked, a faintly amused smile pulling at the corner of one lip, "The evidence has been mounting. I suppose I would be interested in learning more about that."

The intruder grinned, offering his hand to shake, "Name's John Hart, by the way."

"I really do not care." Salazar refused the poor impersonation of a polite gesture.

"Enemy of my enemy not mean anything down here?" Hart asked cockily, "Besides, I kind of idolised you, y'know. I may be Gryffindor by genealogy, and don't even get me started on genetic engineering and Helga Hufflepuff... but you've always been more my type."

Salazar rolled his eyes, "Yes, my bad name does draw many fanatics."

"Not your bad name. That bastard out there calling himself a Dark Lord can shove his propaganda up his arse. You're better than that. I especially liked your theories on inter-species heredity."

"I'll bet." Salazar bit out coldly.

"Not to mention the whole immortality thing you've got going. You know, where I'm from they've got technology for that."

Salazar regarded him coldly for a moment, but then he shook his head, "Why are you here?"

"Bored. Bad things are going to happen soon, and I wanted to take the opportunity to snoop around."

"I will make it my business to keep you out of the main body of the school." Salazar pointed out.

"Probably a wise move." Hart shrugged vaguely, but then a malevolent grin flashed across his face, "Good luck with that."

And in a flash of black smoke he was gone.

x x x


	124. I Know Everything

x x x

**Chapter 124: I Know Everything**

x x x

Someone had turned the Carrows Barbie-pink and strung them up from the ceiling of the Great Hall.

Someone had enchanted the moving staircases to appear transparent.

Someone had cast sticking charms on the floors and inverted the gravity on the second and fourth floor corridors.

Someone had cast a copying charm on Mrs Norris and convinced all forty-two of the clones that the assorted statues around the castle were students out of bed _and_ they needed to be marked territorially. For a female cat, they were doing a very thorough job of this. The original was left out of the loop, and very indignant when she was told of it.

Someone had made it rain all four house colours in the Library. Madam Pince might have been less upset if she had noticed the rain didn't permeate a single page of paper, and evaporated without staining after twenty minutes.

Someone had stolen all the underwear from the sixth and seventh year dorms. Socks included.

Someone had set Snape on fire... though it didn't appear to cause him any real harm, it just looked spectacular.

Owen Harper was _not_ this someone. He called in the Weasley twins as consultants. It wasn't their doing either, but they volunteered to help figure out who it was.

All of this happened within a single week. Not one detention was handed out either, because every single teacher and prefect found themselves magically struck dumb every time they tried to say the word. Then they found themselves reciting eighteenth century Muggle French poetry for an hour.

"I must admit, I expected you to be more... malevolent?" Salazar muttered, as he sat on a rafter, Disillusioned, watching six prefects from old pureblood families singing a perfectly harmonised chorus in French about how their underwear was missing and their parents were siblings. "And I don't recognise that poem?"

"Made it up, got bored with the original verse." Hart shrugged. He, too, was sitting in the rafters, though how he got there was another matter. While Salazar had an avian form which he could assume at will, Hart had shown no evidence of Animagism whatsoever.

Salazar had decided pretty early on that it was best not to discuss why this man could fly or turn into smoke. They were _not_ known traits of human magic, and he had a sneaking suspicion exactly what kind of half-breed the man was. Or perhaps it was simply related to his boasts about where he came from being more advanced. It was difficult to tell, but he found himself spectacularly uninterested in finding out.

The language of the song switched to Latin for absolutely no reason, but the words continued to describe incest and something about House Elves that made Salazar eternally grateful Latin was a dead language and thus the _children_ present weren't too likely to understand it.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Severus Snape demanded in outrage.

"It's that new curse." a Slytherin second year, and member of a Death Eater family, announced, "I've no idea what they're saying."

Severus stared for a second at one of the singing prefects, a seventh year boy who was blushing furiously, "Be grateful." Severus muttered. Latin, while a dead language, was studied in advanced Theory of Magic classes. The seventh-year students probably understood it, and Severus clearly did. "I may have an idea who is behind this..." he murmured, before turning and sweeping off up the stairs, not bothering to save his students from Hart's little game.

Hart waves his hand dismissively, and the singing stopped. The seventh year who had been blushing broke down into tears and ran away.

"Have you heard of common decency?" Salazar asked idly.

"What's that, then?" Hart asked, before shaking his head and dismissing the subject, "Nevermind. I think _Professor_ Snape is about to jump to the wrong conclusion. I should go and... dissuade him from that." And suddenly he was once more a wisp of smoke, soaring near the ceiling, down towards the stairs which led to the Headmaster's office.

"Now this, I must witness." Salazar murmured to himself, before transforming into his Phoenix form and swooping down after his demented new ally.

x x x

During the month they had been in Shell Cottage, both Ollivander and Griphook the goblin had healed considerably from their ordeals. The goblin's left leg had been broken, and he was still unable to put weight upon it, but he had certainly healed quickly considering the state he had been in when he had been rescued. Bill Weasley had treated him well, and been quite adamant that no one else be allowed to see him until he could walk.

Ianto had been the only on not to argue- or at least express confusion- at this, and had in fact chided the other teens, explaining that goblins saw temporary physical weakness as a shame, which should be hidden until it was healed. Contrarily, they viewed permanent physical damage as a badge of honour to be displayed.

When Ianto asked Bill if he, Ron and Hermione could speak to Griphook, Bill had disappeared into the room for a moment, before quickly stepping aside and holding the door open for them.

"Hermione, not one word unless it's information I don't already have." Ianto said to her.

Ron grinned and patted her shoulder, "Ever tried negotiating with a goblin, 'Mione? Bill's told me some horror stories. I really hope Jones knows what he's doing."

They followed Ianto into the room, staying back a couple of steps. He had been most insistent that they stand behind him. Ron kinda got the feeling Ianto _did_ know what he was doing... but he wasn't going to go telling anyone he trusted the Slytherin-lover. Even if he did trust the Slytherin in question as well.

As they approached, Griphook rose from his chair, using a cane to stand. Ianto nodded to the cane, then met the goblin's eyes and spoke, "Griphook, third accountant of Gringotts. I wish to do business with you."

Griphook's shifty eyes went from Ianto to Ron then Hermione, and back to Ianto.

"My name is Ianto Jones." he explained, before indicating Ron and Hermione behind him, "These are my associates, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger."

"Very well, let us speak." Griphook nodded, before sitting down once more. Ianto pulled up a chair opposite the goblin, and also sat. Ron and Hermione were left standing behind him again.

"I am negotiating on behalf of Harry Potter, in the name of a goal to aid us all." Ianto informed Griphook, who arched an eyebrow halfway up his considerably high forehead. "The Dark Lord offers promises more hollow than any politician, you know even if you had not been captured that he could never be trusted. Harry Potter's mission is to put a stop to the Dark Lord's rise to power, and his intentions, my intentions, and those of my associates, are towards justice."

Griphook snorted, "Justice? You speak as if you have the power-" but Ianto held up his hand to interrupt. It looked like it was somehow a formal gesture, as Griphook stopped talking mid-sentence before Ianto even began to speak.

"You doubt the political power of a legend like Harry Potter? He has manipulated the wizarding government before, and with the incumbent Minister a near-literal puppet of the Dark Lord, I'm willing to bet my worth in gold that Harry Potter will have a say in who leads next."

The goblin eyed Ianto up carefully, "Your worth in gold, indeed? And that would be?"

"To those who employ me by the year, nine thousand six hundred and thirty-eight galleons. To the right person... Ignog the Infallible couldn't count that high."

Griphook looked most thoroughly taken aback. The mildly surprised but downright sly grin that had started to form at the thought of nine thousand odd galleons was wiped right off his face in shock at the second half of the sentence. "You have read your history text, I shall grant you that much." he said, a bit shaken. "A bold claim, but not a wager I would be willing to meet."

"About our business proposition." Ianto insisted.

"Yes, and just what is it one of such... worth... would ask of a third accountant?"

"I'd like to discuss Gringotts vault policy, with specific attention to heredity and accountability." when he heard this, Griphook looked concerned, but after a moment he nodded and Ianto continued, "The Black family disowned their eldest heir, leaving the heredity- by technicality- to a cousin. Bellatrix Lestrange. I'm interested in how either their disowned heir, or Bellatrix's younger sisters, could gain access to property contained within the vault."

"I thought Sirius had access to his family vault?" Ron asked.

"Sirius has access to a personal trust fund, which once created could not be renounced, not even by disinheritance." Ianto corrected.

Ron scowled, and sulked a bit at being corrected. Not so much at having been wrong, but at being corrected so... coldly. The tone Ianto was using, and had been using throughout the entire conversation really, was very professional, but also very unkind.

"Bellatrix is the eldest honoured member of the Black family, only she can renounce or reclaim a family member's right to the contents of the vault." Griphook said flatly.

"We only want one item. There has to be a loophole." Ianto insisted, "And Bellatrix is also the only member of the Black family currently not allied to our cause. Sirius, Narcissa, Nymphadora and Draco all have a right to claim their inheritance."

"In due time, yes." Griphook observed pointedly.

"Time is money, and it's being paid in blood." Ianto retorted coolly, "And if there is no legal recourse, a law must either be made or bent to accommodate our needs. Otherwise the Dark Lord shall rise victorious, and bring ruin on your business and your family."

"Bent, I hear, not broken?" Griphook asked, a sly smirk reappearing on his face at this thought.

"If you seek beneath our floors a treasure that was never yours." Ianto quoted, also smirking, "But what if that treasure was never the property of the Black family, nor the Lestranges into which she married? What if it belongs to the Dark Lord _and_ Harry Potter?"

"Well then I see no _rule_ impeding you." Griphook agreed, grin positively feral, "Only guards and locks and traps and dragons. Do you think that can be surmounted?"

"With information and planning, yes." Ianto answered with confidence.

"Dragons?" Ron spluttered.

"Like Harry and Jack haven't dealt with dragons before." Hermione chided with a nervous smile.

"And now we come to the business." Griphook observed, "How much is this information worth to you?"

"That depends on the type of payment you're interested in." Ianto said calmly, "Certain forms come easier than others." Ron snorted, and Ianto glared over his shoulder at him. "You're getting as bad as Owen, surprisingly fast, Weasley."

"Thank you." Ron said, still snickering. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away from Ron, nose in the air indignantly.

"I have no interest in coin." Griphook said idly.

"That would have been too easy." Ianto agreed.

"Nor labour of any kind, and I have already repaid Bill Weasley for his services during my recuperation."

"Make a request and we'll see if it's feasible." Ianto offered.

"I want two things." Griphook said carefully, "I want the sword I saw that night in Malfoy Manor. The Sword of Godric Gryffindor. And... should this quest of yours lead to victory over the Dark Lord, I want Harry Potter to personally lobby the Ministry for Goblins to have the right to carry wands."

"The latter, while easy enough, won't likely see fruit unless you're willing to compromise on it." Ianto observed, "But I can certainly assure you he will argue strongly in favour of your rights."

Ron bit his lip. Harry, naive as he was about history, would probably do just that and not get why it was a bad idea. Goblins had more secrets about magic than wizards did, letting them have something like wandlore for nothing would be downright stupid. At least Ianto's suggestion of compromise sounded like he knew this too.

"As to the former." Ianto said with a frown, "The sword _is_ goblin-made, I can't see a reason to deny it to you. Only know this, we _need_ it to complete our quest. Once we are finished with it, then..." he shrugged, "It was never ours."

"You can't just give him the sword!" Hermione cried.

"It's goblin-made, they have a right to reclaim it, by their laws." Ianto looked up at her, "The same laws that started the third goblin rebellion because certain ministry officials didn't bother to learn them. We don't need another one of those right now, do we?"

Hermione scowled, but shook her head.

When they looked back to Griphook it was to see a very smug grin across his face, "I accept that the sword may be a valuable tool on your quest, I will accept a delay if the agreement is sealed by blood."

"I'm not authorised to make that commitment." Ianto glanced at Ron and Hermione, "That would be Harry."

"I'll get him." Hermione said with a slightly nervous look, and quickly left the room.

Ron scowled at the door, but then Ianto's voice drew his attention. Now the tone was conversational, forced into that tone but definitely not the cold business-like voice of earlier, "For clarification, the sword has undergone a bit of augmentation. Basilisk venom and silver, that I know of. We won't play semantics over your pound of flesh. Call it good will." Ron just saw the side of Ianto's face and the teeth-baring grin that was more like an animal threatening than a person smiling.

And Griphook grinned right back the same downright nasty way. Ron thought the goblin's eyes showed real humour, but the grin wasn't at all nice. "And I shall acknowledge that all your carefully worded promise of legal support in the future is to _try_ to support goblin rights. Intent more relevant than results, but I shall be watching."

Hermione returned with Harry, at that point, "Hermione filled me in." he said to Ron and Ianto, before looking at Griphook and adding darkly, "And Draco was kind enough to tell me exactly how blood contracts actually work. You distrust me that much?"

"It's a blood bind or one of your wizard's oaths that will strip your magic if you break it." Griphook said simply with a shrug.

"Over a sword?" Harry asked flatly.

"I know blood binding's dangerous, but-" Ron started.

"It's something about the intent of the spell." Harry said, shaking his head.

Ianto was the one to explain, yet again, "If we use a blood-binding spell, Griphook would say the words, and spells like that have a thing for exact wording in a way a genie would be jealous of. A wizard oath, on the other hand, is controlled by the person it binds, still a thing for exact words, but at least they would be Harry's words."

After only a moment's thought, Harry nodded, "Wizard's oath it is, then. We do need your help, Griphook. This is worth the sword."

x x x

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts.

"It's not Jack."

Severus looked around his office, startled. He knew the voice was nearby, but there was no visible source. Even his Legilimency could not detect the source, and Legilimency _always_ worked on sentient beings. He often couldn't get past mental shields without reinforcing the spell, but he could always at least identify a presence.

"You know he's not even near the castle, at the moment. Nor will he come back for some time if he knows what's good for him." the disembodied voice continued.

Severus frowned. He was sure he had heard that voice somewhere before.

"Yes, from what I can see, you have definitely heard my voice before."

"Legilimency, too?" Severus asked aloud.

"As if that would work on you." the voice laughed. "You seem to be operating under the misguided notion that I'm entirely human. So boring."

It was at this moment that Severus spotted Fawkes, Dumbledore's old pet Phoenix, perched on the window ledge, watching him inquisitively.

"No, I'm not the bird." the voice said with amusement, "Although I must admit, I like him. Go on, figure out where you know my voice from, and I'll deign to show myself."

"Am I to take it, then, that you are the cause of Hogwarts' latest spate of 'pranks'?" Severus asked warily, still trying to figure out where he knew this voice from.

"This week... yes. Before that, I really couldn't care less who it was besides not me. I take pride in the mayhem I cause, but I will maim anyone who accuses me of something that wasn't mine."

"And you are someone I have met before?"

"No. And we're playing the memory game, not twenty-questions. I might give you one more hint if I'm in the mood, but I want to see if you can work it out for yourself first."

Severus frowned at this. He knew the voice, but had not met the man before. That most certainly narrowed it down, as he had met a great many people within the wizarding world. But he couldn't think who he might have heard yet never met in person.

"You know, I already named how you know me. Telepathy is a wonderful and bloody terrifying thing, don't you think?"

"Telepathy is a Muggle fantasy." Severus sneered.

"No. It's an all-encompassing term for any mental discipline that lets you see any aspect of another person's mind. Legilimency is just what you know, not all there is. Now seriously, you're cleverer than this, stop stalling."

Severus sighed, rubbing his temples with his index fingers in frustration, "You named how I know you?" he asked slowly.

"That I did."

"You are an infuriating individual, you are aware of this, I trust?"

"Proud of it." the voice answered with amusement that came very close to outright laughter.

And then Severus remembered... and promptly wished he hadn't. Vivid and deeply offensive memories, used as a mental shield in place of Occlumency, by one Jack Harkness. This voice was part of those memories, and now Severus knew _every_ detail of what the man looked like. "Where's a good Obliviator when I want one?" he grumbled in disgust.

Laughter echoed around the room, and the man revealed himself. Most thankfully fully clothed, unlike the memories in question. He wore Muggle clothes as mismatched as the worst purebloods' attempts at blending in, and a red cloak over the lot of it. His eyes ran over Snape in a clearly evaluating way, and he grinned, "You're not so bad-looking yourself."

Severus sneered in revulsion. He had never been called good-looking, not even in his youth when he had deigned to try to achieve such status. "Do you have standards?"

"Nope." the man grinned, shrugging, "And I only really came here to tell you, Jack's not a part of this little rebellion. But then I decided to have fun."

"Your concept of fun is severely misguided."

"I've been told something to that effect." the man shrugged, "You know, if you-"

"No."

"Not even-"

"No!"

The man rolled his eyes, smirking, "You really are boring, aren't you?"

Severus glared at him.

"And I've noticed a lack of trying to kill me. Can't help but wonder why."

"Because you appear not to have done any harm to this school. As long as it stays that way, and you get the hell out of my office in the next two minutes, I'll probably let you live."

The man laughed, "I didn't think you could succeed in killing me, still don't either, I just wondered why you hadn't tried."

"Get out." Severus bit out coldly.

"I'm bored with you, anyway." the man answered with a shrug, and he sauntered over to the window. Fawkes flew out of his way pretty sharpish, as if even the Phoenix was wary of him. And then he just jumped out the window.

Severus listened for a moment, but didn't deign to go to the window to see. He heard no scream and no impact, so he assumed the man lived.

Unfortunately.

Severus made a note to find a good Obliviator once the war was done and he knew which side he could trust.

x x x

Harry was frowning out the window. Jack had just revealed something of great importance to him, and if they were right it would change the outcome of the entire war.

But now he was distracted.

"Jack..."

"Yes?" Jack asked, stepping closer to see what Harry was staring at.

"Do you know why there's a huge pile of socks around Dobby's grave?" Harry asked, trying to decide if he should be angry, upset, or... maybe happy that someone thought of it?

"Not a clue." Jack frowned, "They're Hogwarts socks. All four colours."

Sure enough, when Harry squinted, he could see that all the socks were school-uniform grey, with trim in each colour of the Hogwarts crest.

Harry felt tears welling in his eyes, "Dobby liked socks."

x x x


	125. Duel of Fates

x x x

**Chapter 125: Duel of Fates**

x x x

The rain fell heavily on the cold dark street. He stalked with malevolent purpose, seeking out a signature of magic. A naming spell. It was weak, almost-but-not-quite a lie. As if a middle name instead of the given name, or an anagram as he used himself. Or a lie used long enough to feel real. Still it was the one he sought, he was certain.

Footsteps nearby, a pair of Muggle girls running for shelter.

In a flash of green light they were dead, fallen in a crumpled heap by the side of the darkened alleyway. Lifeless bodies turning cold as the sheets of icy rain that fell on them. There was no satisfaction, only hatred and disdain.

Disgusting, vile creatures.

He stepped out into the main road, and looked up. Five stories up in a block of flats. His target was there. He would torture the Mudblood and feed him to Dementors. Most practical way to dispose of him.

After all, Jack Harkness was like him. Murdering him would require... more effort.

x x x

Harry woke up with a gasp, cold sweat where seconds ago he had felt icy rain.

His brow furrowed in confusion. He knew- knew with absolute certainty- that Voldemort didn't think Jack was immortal. Difficult to kill, and 'like him' had been Voldemort's thoughts on the matter. More importantly, Voldemort was hunting a naming spell on Jack, but Harry knew Jack was sleeping in the room directly below him now in Shell Cottage. Which meant... Jack's past-self and anyone near him were in danger.

Harry threw off the bedsheets and grabbed the wand from his bedside table. A variation on a switching spell, which Hermione had taught him, transported his pyjamas off of his body and regular clothes onto him at the same instant, so he was fully dressed.

And barrelling out the door and down the stairs a second later.

_Another corner of his mind was still in that cold and rainy street. Voldemort was flying, not deigning to use the sane method of breaking into a building (really, what's wrong with kicking the door down? It's a classic!), and intending to break in through the window of the fifth floor flat._

He ran headlong into the door of the room he knew Jack and Ianto shared, and pounded his fist on said door. "Jack!"

A voice in his ear, the commlink, "Jack's busy right now, but if you'd like to call back later." that was Ianto, and he sounded like he was making a great effort to keep his voice level.

"I had another vision, people's lives are in danger!" Harry shouted.

A pause of about a second, and Jack muttered into the commlink, "Well that spoiled the mood."

"There are neither words nor time to explain how much I don't want to know." Harry answered through gritted teeth.

It took all of twenty seconds for the door to open, and both Jack and Ianto looked entirely decent and unruffled. Harry decided not to comment on this, for the sake of his sanity.

"What did you see?" Jack asked quickly, all business now.

"He's looking for you, using a naming charm." Harry answered with a frown, "He thinks he's found you, but he's in a city somewhere, not anywhere near here. That means-"

"He's found the other me." Jack said with scowl, "And Gwen and Tosh are with him."

"Where would they be?" Ianto asked.

"Cardiff." Jack said immediately, "At this time in my life I wouldn't have been allowed to leave the city for a prolonged period of time. I'd have been hunted down by Torchwood. I think..." he thought for another moment, "I think I know somewhere I'd have gone."

"Well let's go, then." Ianto said immediately.

But Jack turned on Harry, "We have one weapon between the two of us. You're more valuable alive, not to mention my natural talents. Let me go, you stay here where it's safe."

Harry seethed at that suggestion, but reluctantly handed the wand over to Jack. "About those specific talents... we need to talk after this."

Jack smirked at him in an obviously suggestive way, but then he shrugged, "Fine by me. Ianto, let's go." he held his hand out to Ianto, who took it immediately.

And they were gone.

_And in the back of his mind, Harry heard Jack's past-self shouting and then gunshots... and he saw another flash of green light._

He couldn't just let them fight this alone.

Cardiff. He focused on one of the few locations he knew in Cardiff. The train station. And he Apparated.

x x x

The instant Jack and Ianto arrived in a side-street near the building Jack guessed his past-self might have chosen as a hiding place, Ianto transformed into his Animagus form, and flew up to the nearest rooftop where he disappeared. Jack didn't see him change back, but he must have done because now Jack heard his voice.

"This is the place. I can see the curse-fire. Fifth floor, just across the street."

Jack turned and Apparated up into the building, just in time to hear the vicious high-pitched shriek of "Avada Kedavra!" and the flash of green light hit his past-self, sending him soaring out the window.

One of the two windows had already been broken, but Voldemort just had to throw his past-self out the unbroken one for good measure, didn't he?

Jack really didn't like being thrown out windows. The glass got in places, it was never pleasant to recover from, nevermind the five-story fall.

Then he noticed that, in the corner, Tosh and Gwen had their wands drawn ready to fight, and he gave them a 'don't you dare' look.

"Hey, snake-face." he taunted loudly and clearly, "Were you looking for me?"

Voldemort sneered in disgust as he turned on Jack, "I had thought my servants already killed your father, Harkness?"

Jack shrugged, "Not sure what I can say to that." he noticed Tosh frantically gesturing to the kitchen table right next to him, and his gaze drifted over a very obvious new toy sitting out there. He glanced back at Tosh and raised an eyebrow. She nodded eagerly. "Maybe something about clones?" he suggested, before waving his hand- wand still holstered against his arm- in the direction of the new toy. Accio. And it soared into his hand. "You know, I've always wanted to do this." he laughed, pressing the button... and igniting the lightsaber.

And it was blue, too! Oh, Tosh really was the best!

It was a terrible shame that Voldemort didn't get the reference. Bigoted bastard had clearly never given Muggle culture a chance. Jack held his hand up and cast Depulso. Voldemort went flying out the window that had already been broken before Jack got there. The one that had shattered inwards, judging by the debris.

Jack laughed and ran to the window ledge. Voldemort was hovering in mid-air, and without hesitation he shrieked "Avada Kedavra!" Jack dodged. He didn't dare chance the theory that a real-world impersonation of a fictional weapon had all the properties of said fictional weapon. Not to mention he doubted his own chances of catching that curse on the narrow blade of his newest toy even if he had been sure it would work.

"Don't suppose you know a curse to conjure lightning? That could be fun." Jack suggested with an entirely too cheerful grin. He heard a stifled giggle from Tosh behind him.

He glanced down into the street, to see that Ianto was kneeling next to Jack's past-self, who appeared to still be dead, for the time being. There was an open space in the street, and a few onlookers had started to gather as the sun began to rise. The rain was not giving up, however.

Jack decided to do something _incredibly_ stupid, and jumped out the window.

A Depulso charm on the ledge as he leapt helped to launch him further and he just managed to reach Voldemort, grabbing on to the startled wizard's shoulder with his left hand, feet catching on his waist. The momentum and extra weight sent them both plunging towards the ground. Jack raised the lightsaber to strike but Voldemort caught his wrist at the last second and displayed surprising physical strength for his apparent frailty, by holding him back. Meanwhile, Voldemort's free hand still held the wand, and a blasting hex sent Jack flying away from him, battered and bruised.

He would have hit the ground hard, probably fatally, if it hadn't been for the levitation charm he felt catch him at the last moment. It was Ianto, who was giving him the 'you're completely insane, and I'm trying to figure out why that makes you even hotter' look.

He just had time to flash his trademark grin at Ianto before his feet hit the ground and he charged towards Voldemort, who had apparently used whatever magic allowed him to fly, in order to land safely.

Jack cast a shield charm as he ran, which deflected two curses that weren't green light (he dodged the three that were). "Have you no-" he swung the lightsaber at Voldemort, who dodged in a way that was not at all nimble or practiced, but clearly desperate, "-imagination-" a second swing this time contacting with a deflection spell which physically stopped the blade, "-at all?" Jack laughed, backing away and beginning to circle Voldemort.

He hadn't used swords in years, but he'd had practice with the Agency, and a very talented sparring partner in the form of John Hart. He knew how to handle himself in this kind of fight. Unfortunately, even though John had never fought fair, he had at least tended to use the same main weapon as Jack when they had played this game.

There were more onlookers now, and Jack was feeling more and more like showing off. He spun the blade in a flourish, and grinned at his opponent, "Come on, then. Show me something new."

The cutting curse Voldemort threw at him for that was powerful, and aimed specifically at Jack's neck, but it was something a third-year would know the counterspell to, and he blocked it without too much effort.

"Child's play!" Jack laughed, throwing a simple bludgeoning spell back at him and moving to attack with the blade again.

The spell was just a distraction, but it wasn't enough, as Voldemort's response to it was a very well-angled deflection charm. It bounced the intended distraction right back at Jack, who was thrown backwards violently, once again caught by the unseen force of a levitation charm... just before he would have gone headfirst into a wall.

Something didn't sound right, a crackling of energy... coming from Voldemort. Jack stared, not sure what it was, only that it looked kind of like sparks of electricity.

"Jack! Get a mirror shield spell _around him_, now!" Harry's voice called over the commlink, a desperate urgency in his tone.

The mirror shield, which Jack had learned in Barty Crouch Jr's Defence Against the Dark Arts class, was easy enough... but projecting it over anything but himself required a lot of concentration. Projecting it around an enemy to contain them, rather than an ally to protect them, twenty times as difficult. He had to use the words, though he did whisper them, "Protego Speculum."

And just in time, too.

Voldemort had, apparently, taken his suggestion to heart, and conjured up lightning. Except it was nothing like in the Star Wars movies, it was a STORM raging out in all directions. The shield spell took almost all of Jack's strength to hold, and even then a few sparks made it out, grounding mere feet from the Muggle spectators who had gathered. They didn't run, though some shrieked in the gleeful way of one who thinks the danger is all fake.

As the lightning spell faded away, Jack faced Voldemort, with a cold smile, "Alright, I guess I'm impressed. But let's see how you like this." He deactivated the lightsaber Tosh had made, raised his wand-concealing arm to Voldemort and shouted, "Legilimens!"

As predicted, Voldemort defended himself. Except shield spells and mind-reading don't go well together, Voldemort was dragged unwillingly into Jack's memories.

x x x

_Harry, who had been observing the entire scene through Voldemort's mind, found himself in a hellish vision of cold steel walls, covered in blood, which was pooled on the floor and drying in streaks on even the ceiling._

_Screams echoed all around, and the snarls of monsters Harry couldn't even guess at identifying felt so close, like hot breath on his neck._

_'**You never wanted to see this, Riddle, and I think I've figured out why.**' Jack's voice echoed in his mind, '**Because of the way it hurt. Emotion, not physical.**'_

_But then suddenly Harry felt like the centre of attention of the entire universe._

_'**Not suitable for children.**' Jack positively commanded, and Harry found himself forcefully ejected from the memory._

Leaning on the cold tile of the train station wall, gasping for the quasi-fresh air. Anything better than that stale stench of death in Jack's nightmare. He shivered, sliding down the wall to sit on the stone floor, blocking out the howling rage and pain from Voldemort's mind. He didn't want to know. He really, really did not.

x x x

Ianto, still kneeling next to Jack's past-self, looked up at the stalemate between Jack and Voldemort. It looked like they had both just frozen in position, but the raw magic flying between them told Ianto something was definitely happening. Something like a battle of wills, purely within their minds. It seemed to drag on and on, until after what must have been little more than a minute but felt like far longer, Voldemort broke the trance and cast a Cruciatus curse at Jack.

Jack just laughed. Alright, so he doubled over in pain, yes... but he didn't cry out. He fell to his knees and _laughed_. "You really think that's going to work, after what I just showed you?"

Jack reactivated the lightsaber and, pointing it at Voldemort, he cast a levitation charm on it that sent it flying straight at him.

And Voldemort Disapparated.

Jack rolled his eyes and used a summoning charm to retrieve his levitated weapon, before deactivating it and pocketing it. Ianto supposed it might come in handy later, however there were absolutely no circumstances in this or any other universe, under which he wanted to allow John Hart to ever know such a weapon now existed.

"Coward." Jack muttered, smirking faintly as he pulled himself to his feet... and the Muggles began to cheer.

He turned and took a bow, just as Gwen and Tosh ran out of the building.

"He's enjoying this a bit too much." Gwen could be heard to mutter. Tosh nodded, but both girls were grinning.

And at that moment, Jack's past-self resurrected. The Muggles didn't even bat an eye, because obviously to their minds it was all some sort of publicity stunt and the man on the ground must have been just fine this whole time.

Ianto held Jack's past-self as he caught his breath and regained his bearings. He looked up at the window out of which he had been thrown, closed his eyes and groaned softly, before muttering, "Fuck defenestration."

Ianto couldn't help but laugh, hugging him closer, even as _his_ Jack soaked up the adulation of the Muggles around. Cheerfully gloating about special effects, and encouraging their audience to disperse with the confirmation that yes the show was over.

Jack himself eventually wandered off with the one Muggle- a young brunette woman- who had the smarts to get out a camera and film the battle, flirtatiously offering to buy her drinks. Ianto smirked faintly, knowing perfectly well this meant Retcon and theft of the camera footage.

There was no way Jack would destroy it. He was far too vain.

x x x

Harry was waiting in the living room of Shell Cottage, when Ianto returned, bringing with him Gwen, Tosh, and the older-looking past-version of Jack. But not the teenage Jack.

"Where is he?" Harry asked with a frown. It was taking him a significant amount of effort to hold up the illusion of calm. First off, he needed to speak to Jack, secondly Voldemort was throwing one hell of a temper tantrum and it was affecting Harry's own emotional balance.

"Cleaning up the mess he made." Ianto said with a shrug.

"He's an incorrigible show-off." Tosh said with a bit of a grin, while Gwen nodded.

"Hey, I'm standing right here." Jack's past-self protested indignantly.

"You saw what he did, Jack. I'd be surprised if George Lucas doesn't try to sue you." Ianto laughed.

"He could try." Jack's past-self said with a kind of impudence that only came from practice, "Then he can take his pick between Retcon, an Obliviate spell... or finding out what Torchwood One has in their basement."

"Dare I ask?" Harry asked warily.

"It's a bit early yet." Ianto chided Jack, before grinning and turning to face Harry, "But by about the year twenty-oh-six they'll have a fully operational Death Star."

"Tell me you're kidding!" Gwen yelped, staring at him with wide eyed shock.

"Aliens over London, one third of the population of the Earth on the roof, remember that?" Ianto asked. Gwen nodded slowly.

"On the roof?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Something to look forward to." Ianto said cheerfully, "You're blood-type's not A-positive, by any chance?" Harry shook his head slowly, deciding this was one of those things he was probably better off not knowing. Ianto shrugged and turned back to Gwen, to continue his explanation, "Torchwood London shot the alien invaders down with a five-point laser beam, reverse-engineered from a Jaffa sunglider that they shot down by more primitive means in ninety-six."

"I borrowed some of those same schematics to work out the increased power for the lasers in the swords Jack requested." Tosh offered helpfully.

"There's a Death Star being built in London?" Harry asked with a vague snort of amusement, which felt like it was drowned out completely by Voldemort's rage in the back of his mind, "You know, I should probably be more surprised."

"You get used to it." Ianto said with a sage nod.

"I still haven't!" Gwen protested, "And I've been part of Torchwood longer than we've known Harry!"

"Yeah, but Harry's also had to cope with the wizarding world laying surprises on him every five minutes." Jack's past-self pointed out, "It must be easier to accept that someone went and made a Death Star than that you're meant to be the one to save the world from a poor impersonation of Emperor Palpatine minus the nose."

Harry spluttered with laughter, while both girls giggled and Ianto tried to pretend to still be at least somewhat professional. Somehow, Harry was sure the mental picture crossed the telepathic link, because Voldemort's already towering temper flared up even more, at the same instant.

"What'd I miss?" Jack asked, wandering into the room, sauntering right by his own past-self as if there was nothing at all wrong with that picture.

"I need to talk to you." Harry said, sobering up very quickly as he suddenly remembered the real problem at hand here. Jack took in the seriousness of Harry's request, and gave him a questioning look instead of making an off-colour remark as he usually would. Harry sighed, "Something I saw in Riddle's mind."

"That word's not Taboo?" Jack asked, glancing sidelong at Ianto, who shrugged innocently. "He really is an idiot, it's almost like he's begging to be made fun of."

"It's kind of a common word." Ianto pointed out.

"He's still an idiot." Jack clarified with a grin.

"What did you see?" Ianto asked Harry warily.

"Something about Jack... you never told HIM about Jack's... er... his Secret?"

"No, I did not, and I think I need to be a part of this conversation as well." Ianto said flatly.

"Fine then, gang up on me. I can take you both." Jack said with that trademark flirty grin. So there was the off-colour remark, just a little bit late but still as unsettling as ever, yet Harry couldn't help but find it funny all the same.

"Jack... if this is what I think it is, it is a very serious situation." Ianto said, his tone positively icy.

Jack backed down from the joking immediately, "Okay. Let's go upstairs."

"Upstairs... in a bungalow." Jack's past-self muttered, as they turned to leave, "Have I mentioned how much I like the way wizards' minds work?"

x x x


	126. The Crux Of The Matter

x x x

**Chapter 126: The Crux Of The Matter**

x x x

"I think he thinks you have a Horcrux." Harry blurted out the second he, Jack and Ianto were alone. He simply could not think of a subtle way to put it, nor was he exactly in the mood to be subtle anyway. Voldemort was still pitching a fit, and while Harry could block it out for the most part, it still made him feel a bit angry himself for no reason other than the emotions leaking through their connection.

Jack looked blatantly put out by this suggestion, but he didn't seem particularly surprised by it at all. Unhappy but not surprised. Ianto, meanwhile, looked completely unfazed. Jack noticed this right away, and demanded, "You knew this?"

"He told me." Ianto shrugged. "I don't think he knew that I knew about his- in fact, with the way Harry's mission has been protected by the Fidelius Charm I don't think he _could_ know. He probably wanted to make it look like he was the lesser evil at the time."

"That's pretty damned relative." Jack muttered, slumping down onto the nearest chair.

"You think?" Ianto snorted.

"But it's not possible." Harry said, looking from one to the other. He was about half a foot taller than either of them now, and it felt almost wrong to have to physically look down at two people who he knew were older than they appeared, and who he considered to be kind of like role models. "Is it?"

"I didn't do it on purpose, if that's what you mean." Jack said flatly, "But... I'm a bit less surprised than I should be, I think."

"Hart did it, didn't he?" Ianto asked flatly.

"But-" Harry stammered, thoroughly confused, "But how could you have a Horcrux if you didn't do it yourself?"

"It is possible." Jack said with a frown, "Dumbledore told me how it worked... I think he might have known."

"I'm beginning to see why you didn't like him being able to read minds..." Harry muttered.

"Horcruxes are made in three steps. Preparation spells, the murder, and a spell to guide the fragment of soul into the vessel. Only the murder needs to be done by the subject of the spell."

Harry stared blankly for a second, "You've killed someone in cold blood?"

"I used to be an assassin... among other things." Jack shrugged, "Worked for the bad guys, remember?"

Harry rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose in disgust. He really didn't like to think of this man, who he saw as a mentor, having done anything like that. Ever. Yet he wasn't denying it. Had outright confirmed it, as a matter of fact.

Ianto sighed, "When did this happen?"

"_If_ it happened." Jack clarified, "Riddle could be wrong."

"He told me, and these are his exact words, 'He murdered in cold blood to enable black magic that made him nearly impossible to kill. He never cast the spells, but they are still a part of him'."

"When I saw him trying to track you tonight, I felt his emotions." Harry added, "His exact thoughts on the matter were that you were _'like him'_. That killing you would _'require more effort'_."

"It was definitely John Hart." Jack said with a sigh, "When Riddle read my mind, he seemed to recognise, in a memory of a night I spent with John, a drink he gave me. I was wary, I mean, seriously, never accept a drink from John Hart. You're liable to wake up on an ice-planet on the far side of the galaxy wearing nothing but women's underwear and a traffic cone. And I feel the need to point out... traffic cones do not exist in the fifty-first century anywhere outside one very eccentric museum in the Betelgeuse system."

"But you drank it anyway." Ianto said with a sigh, shaking his head in exasperation at Jack's obvious lack of judgement.

"He was insistent." Jack protested, "And I never noticed any side-effects. And that was the night before the last assassination mission I remember from my time with the Agency. Two weeks later was the start of a two-year gap in my memories, which prompted me to leave them in the first place."

"I'm not sure I want to think about what you might have done." Ianto said with a frown, "You really are reckless, you know."

"I'm beginning to come to that conclusion, yes." Jack said with a faint smirk.

"Should we contact John?" Ianto suggested, "Find out if it's true?"

"I should have known you could do that." Jack muttered.

"Well, I left my means of doing so with Owen, when the Death Eaters took me."

"This John Hart guy..." Harry asked, "He's dangerous, right?" Jack nodded. "And you left a means of communicating with him in _Owen Harper's_ hands... why?"

Ianto blinked, "Safe keeping." Harry stared at him as if he was insane. Really, it sounded like it. "He doesn't know how to use it." Ianto defended.

Harry covered his face with the palm of one hand, "I hope you're right."

"Owen would try to kill him." Jack offered brightly, "They don't get on. He shot Owen once."

Harry glanced at Ianto for this. Ianto had once claimed to have shot Owen with a Muggle gun, too. "It's not that exclusive a club." Ianto said vaguely.

Harry shook his head, "Why am I not surprised?"

"I'll go and deal with it, shall I?" Ianto offered, "Would you like your evil ex unharmed and unaware of the danger he's walking into, or hog-tied and beaten up a bit first?"

"Much as the second option appeals to me..." Jack said a bit too thoughtfully, "He might enjoy it a bit too much."

Ianto shrugged, "I'll see you later, then." and with that he walked over to the window, which he then opened. He glanced back at Jack briefly, before transforming into his Animagus form and flying off into the distance.

Harry looked back to Jack, who stared out the window after Ianto for some time before speaking again. "You don't trust me, now?" It was a question, rather than a definitive conclusion.

"Who did you kill?" Harry asked simply.

"The whole point of the spell is that the murder needs to be in cold blood." Jack pointed out, as if this made a difference.

"Yeah, and I've seen you cast the Killing Curse. That takes pure hate."

"They are different things." Jack mused, smirking faintly, "Hate is a very deep and focused kind of rage. Cold blood is a genuine lack of care for the life you choose to end."

Harry shifted uncomfortably at that. The knowledge someone he thought of as a friend was that... cruel. It didn't sit well. Still, he needed to know. "You didn't answer my question."

"I honestly don't know if he went through with the spell or not." Jack shrugged, "I didn't even know he was a wizard... though it would explain a hell of a lot." He chuckled darkly at some memory, but then he sighed and became more serious as he continued, "Riddle brought up the memory of a specific night. A particular mission. I used to work for the Time Agency, based in the fifty-first century, which is my home time. Our job was to go back and repair changes to the timelines, usually caused by do-gooders who didn't realise the collateral damage of what they perceived to be the right thing."

"Yeah?" Harry asked.

"The number of times the Agency has saved Adolf Hitler's life... it's not funny anymore." Jack announced, with perfect seriousness, "It got to the point where learning twentieth-century German was a required course for all Agents."

"But-" Harry started with wide eyed horror.

"Because if we didn't do it, worse would have happened later." Jack said, "And no, I've never asked what. Sometimes bad things just have to happen for good to follow it."

Harry blinked, but then he shrugged, "You might be right." he conceded.

Jack also shrugged and continued to explain, "John and I were sent on a mission to the year twenty-two forty-three. It's pretty common for these well-intentioned time travellers to thwart an infamous assassination... without any idea what the famous victim would go on to do with the life they never had. This guy started _World War IV_ about a week after he should have been assassinated. Millions of lives lost. We had to correct the mistake."

"So you assassinated him yourself?" Harry asked flatly.

Jack nodded, "Yeah. Look me in the eye and tell me, if you could go back to the day before Riddle killed Myrtle, and kill him in his sleep... would you?"

Harry frowned, seriously considering the moral dilemma. By that age, Tom Riddle had already stolen from, tortured and traumatised some of the other kids at his orphanage. He was already talking to a giant evil snake to plot the demise of all the Muggle-born students in the school. He had, according to Dumbledore's deductions, already killed his own father. It wasn't like Jack was asking if he would have killed Voldemort as a baby. By sixteen Riddle was in no way innocent, and his intentions were obviously evil. To be able to stop him before he did all that followed... "I... I think I might." he said, surprised at himself. "I don't know."

"At least you didn't deny it." Jack said with a smirk, "Anyone who would is either lying or incredibly naive."

Harry snorted darkly. "Well, if you'd suggested when he was a baby I'd have said 'no' in a heartbeat."

"I figured as much." Jack said with a smile. A genuinely warm smile. "You know, I do try to do the right thing, it's just not always clear what that is." He sighed in a kind of sad and distant way, "And I spent my teenage years first in a literal war-zone, not this cloak and dagger stuff the Wizarding world's got going, then working for an evil empire."

"Thought you said this Agency did these things for the greater good?" Harry asked warily.

"And who ever uses that phrase?" Jack asked shooting him a sideways look that seemed highly sceptical, "Only those of us who use evil acts to further a noble goal. You never need to justify it if your actions are just as pure."

Harry frowned, looking away, "I think I get it."

"Do you still trust me?" Jack asked sceptically.

Harry looked back at him suddenly, "You don't even feel a difference? I mean, you keep saying _if_ it's true, _if_ you have a Horcrux. You really don't know?"

Jack seemed to think about it for a moment, "I don't think so. I mean, it was a long time ago, but I don't recall feeling any different."

Harry nodded slowly, beginning to smile as he realised, "That means Riddle doesn't feel it either."

Jack grinned, "Good point. Though I get the feeling if he did, we'd also already know all about it by now."

"True." Harry considered thoughtfully. After a moment he looked Jack, "Yes, by the way. I do still trust you."

x x x

No one in the Gryffindor common room was at all surprised when Owen opened a window to let a particularly indignant albatross. The bird had been pecking on the window for a full five minutes, and Owen had told them all to ignore it... until he had deigned to let it in. So of course it was indignant. Owen was evidently pleased with this fact, but decided it was in his own best interests not to show that, as he did at least try to keep a straight face when the bird transformed into Ianto Jones.

"You did that on purpose." Ianto announced. Still, no one was surprised. This wasn't new to them, after all.

Owen shrugged, "You here for a reason, or just thought you'd up the danger of being a wanted fugitive by walking right into the metaphorical belly of the beast?"

"I didn't walk." Ianto said, shifting his shoulders in a manner reminiscent of the bird ruffling its feathers, "I flew."

Owen rolled his eyes, "Oh, ha ha, bird-boy. What's the emergency, then?"

"I need that mirror I gave you." Ianto said bluntly.

"The- oh, from the train. What the hell does it do, anyway?" Owen asked, even as he turned to ascend the stairs to the dormitories.

Ianto shrugged, "It's a magic mirror. For communication."

Owen glanced back, "Who has the other one?"

"I told you on the train to pray it didn't ever work." Ianto said flatly, "Do you really want me to tell you why?"

Owen shrugged vaguely, and led the way into the fifth-year dorms. There were five beds here. Four of them were relatively neat, not perfect but almost shockingly tidy for a bunch of fifteen-and-sixteen-year-old boys. The other bed looked as if a bomb had hit it. Clothes, books, and assorted magical apparatus, some of which were distinctly illegal, a vast collection of accumulated sweet-wrappers and chocolate frog boxes, as well as an assortment of Starbucks cardboard cups and what looked worryingly like boxes from the Jubilee Pizza down the road from the Hub... scattered everywhere. This mess was knee-deep in places, and piled up against invisible walls that the other boys must have enchanted to keep the chaos at bay.

Ianto imagined the Hogwarts house elves had given up on it long ago, possibly after losing too many of their own to the lost cause.

Naturally, this was Owen's bed.

Ianto stayed back in what he hoped was a magical quarantine zone, well away from the mess that Owen had created over the last six months, watching dubiously as his teenage friend went directly for the bedside table, reached in and put his hand directly on the mirror, wandering out as if the nightmare that was his living accommodations was the most organised place in the world.

Ianto only just resisted the temptation to wipe the mirror clean. In spite of the present evidence of his awesome powers of destruction, Ianto somehow doubted Owen could make this one item any less clean than John Hart.

"Thanks." he said, checking the mirror's surface and seeing nothing that even a Muggle would find out of the ordinary. "I'll... go do this in private. You might say something unhelpful."

"Gee, thanks." Owen sniped.

Ianto just smirked.

"Oh, hey. Drink this." Owen said, out of the blue, offering a vial of purple potion to Ianto.

"Not in a million years." Ianto said flatly.

"I swear it's harmless, wears off in about two hours. I'm just curious."

"And I said no, because I'm not completely insane." Ianto hesitated a moment after saying that. It occurred to him that he was only even here because he was seeking out Jack's evil ex, with whom he himself had had a bit of a tryst, in order to find out if the immortal love of his life had somehow been affected by dangerous dark magic for over a century. Maybe he was insane. He shook his head, and asked, "Wait, tell me what it does?"

Owen hesitated himself, so obviously it was not a pleasant thing.

Ianto smirked, "Tell you what, give it to me and I'll feed it to someone I don't like. Fair?"

"Long as you don't go spiking my drink with it." Owen muttered handing it over, "Though to be honest, probably wouldn't bother me. Two hours isn't that bad."

Ianto rolled his eyes. He had resolved to trick John into drinking the unknown potion Owen had concocted, and yet still he already knew... "I'm going to regret this."

x x x

"Hey, Eye-Candy!" John Hart cheered, "Didn't expect to see you down here."

The disconcerting thing was, Ianto had not yet used the mirror. No, he had flown out to the Chamber of Secrets entrance by the lake. The small plinth, with its brazier still burning, had been vandalised so that the password hint in written Parseltongue was completely illegible, no doubt by a member of the D.A., in case Voldemort chose to visit the castle in person for any reason.

Ianto hadn't given it much thought, simply used the hissed password the entire team had memorised to activate the transport spell.

He had thought this might be a private place from which to use the mirror... instead he found Hart sprawled out entirely too comfortably on a plush red chaise longue, which stood out as entirely wrong in the muted medieval deal the Chamber of Secrets had going.

"I could say the same thing. Slytherins and honorary Slytherins only, get out." Ianto sniped right back.

Hart laughed, standing up and taking a step towards Ianto. The conspicuous seating arrangement vanished the moment he stepped away from it. "Make me."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "I'm sure I could, but honestly I don't care. I was about to try to contact you anyway. Though I think I would have preferred the initial overture to be from a safe distance."

Hart gave him a genuinely confused but falsely innocent look that gave the impression of a puppy that had just torn up something it knew damned well was valuable, and wasn't sure if you were going to pet it or smack it.

Ianto decided to answer that question for him... by punching him in the face.

Now, a relatively short fifteen-year-old (he was due a birthday and a growth spurt over the summer, except Tosh had told them they wouldn't be sticking around to see it) isn't generally going to do a lot of damage to a fully grown man, and John Hart was enough of a masochist that any damage he did do wouldn't bother him. Still, Ianto did take him by surprise, and Hart did stagger, even if it was more from the shock than the impact.

"What was that for?" he asked, pouting.

"I want you to tell me something about Jack." Ianto said, folding his arms in an attempt to look more authoritative, "Something even he's not sure of, that's why I came looking for you."

Hart frowned, backing up a half-step, "No idea what you're talking about." he denied, hands raising in a dismissive gesture, rather than defensive. Except, his tone was more along the lines of 'which specific transgression do you know about, so I can still deny the rest?'

Ianto decided it was best to be blunt, because with John Hart, especially in a defensive mood like this, they could end up dancing around the subject all night if he didn't just say it, "Horcruxes."

"What about them?" Hart asked, somewhat sceptical, as if he was trying to figure out how this connected to the whole downfall of Lord Voldemort deal.

"Does Jack have one?"

Hart rolled his eyes, "If you have to ask, you already know."

"Spell it out for me." Ianto growled through gritted teeth.

"Yes." Hart answered sharply, "Yes, he does, and no, he didn't know it at the time."

"You tricked him into-"

"For his own good." Hart interrupted, "I didn't want to risk losing him, and he wasn't exactly capable of casting the spells required... not to mention the trouble I'd have got in if I let him know magic existed. We were already killers, anyway. In our business these-" he coughed derisively, "-'Horcruxes' were just an extra insurance policy. If you're being paid to murder someone, why not go that little bit further to protect yourself, in case the worst should happen."

"You really do sound like an insurance salesman with that line."

"Basically, yes." Hart said as if he didn't see the issue here.

Ianto stared at him for several seconds, "How do you justify it? It's one of the worst kinds of dark magic, it damages your _soul_."

"Worst kinds of dark magic?" Hart asked sceptically, "Where do you do your homework?" He paused, looked upwards, then slowly drew out the word, "Oh..." He laughed, "Nevermind, I get it. Bloody backwards community you've got living here. So repressed."

Ianto glared him down until he sobered up a bit, then he demanded, "Tell me something worse, then."

"Blood magic." Hart answered without hesitation, "Binds the victim to the caster's will. Very unpleasant stuff. The high end of it can manipulate flesh and bone with a thought. Imperius curse is child's play compared to a blood-bond."

"And a Horcrux is better than that?" Ianto asked sceptically. He had known the dangers of blood magic already. Learned it from Draco, who seemed a bit more expert than was entirely comforting. On the bright side, Draco seemed entirely repulsed by the concept, and had occasionally insinuated that it had been used against someone he cared about, to raise that level of disgust in him.

"A Horcrux requires a deliberate intent to create. Even Jack, who didn't know about it, needed the right mind-set for it to work." Hart explained, "And it's easy enough for its creator to destroy if they _really_ want to."

Ianto frowned, "How?"

"Remorse." Hart said simply, "Specifically for the murder that created it." Ianto's frown deepened at that thought. "It's all about free will." Then Hart shrugged and pulled a silver ring, adorned with an opaque green stone, from his left ring-finger, "Here. This is his. I guess since he understands now, he ought to have it, right?"

He threw the ring to Ianto, who caught it easily. "Ring finger? Really?" Ianto asked sceptically, "Seems a bit sentimental for you."

"Hey, just because I'm a violent psychopath doesn't mean I can't have a sentimental side... it just comes out best in pyrotechnics."

Ianto scowled.

"Oh, you'll see." Hart smirked darkly. Then with a sudden swirl of black smoke he was gone.

x x x


	127. Circular Reasoning

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**Chapter 127: Circular Reasoning**

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While everyone else was preoccupied with worrying about Jack Harkness' immortal soul, Gwen, Tosh, Hermione and Ron had got to work on a plan. Gathered around detailed notes on the table, Ron and Hermione sat close together at one end of the three-seater couch, while Gwen and Tosh sat on two chairs opposite.

The notes they shared had been drawn up by Griphook and modified mostly by Tosh to include their plans thus far. It wasn't even near complete yet, but they were getting there.

They needed to get into Gringotts, past a vast multitude of defences. It was a daunting task, though at least Griphook had deigned to inform them of the details. The plan involved Polyjuice potion, because Hermione had acquired a hair from Bellatrix Lestrange, during her interrogation.

"You're sure _she_ doesn't have a cat?" Ron had questioned. Hermione had told him not to be silly, and displayed the two-foot-long strand of black hair that had clearly originated from the witch in question.

Tosh had modified a scanning device to function through magic, and given it to Ron with instructions on how to use it. "It's basically an easy version of an enchantment detection spell. It will tell you what's in your path, and how to get by it safely."

Ron took to the device with surprising ease considering he had never really been exposed to Muggle things very much.

"So first you have to make the goblins think they're talking to Bellatrix Lestrange." Gwen frowned, and Tosh took up the dialogue perhaps a bit too cheerfully.

"Then once you're in there you have to find and disable traps while barrelling along at speeds that are physically impossible for the human body to endure under the usual laws of physics."

"Not to mention getting out again once they're on to you." Gwen continued, "Because either by trying to disarm traps, or tripping them, you'll prove you're not who you said you were."

"Disarming them just buys you time." Tosh agreed.

"Sounds like fun." Gwen nodded.

"You girls are just as crazy as Harkness, Jones and Harper!" Ron protested.

Tosh grinned, flattered, while Gwen shrugged and tried not to laugh.

"It's going to work." Hermione insisted, "Because it has to. Now, escape plan?"

"It's not easy." Tosh conceded, "There are wards to keep out all known forms of teleportation, including Apparation, Portkeys, House Elves, even Dementors. I'm not sure how it would interact with future technology, but since Jack's Vortex Manipulator doesn't do teleport anymore, that point is kind of unhelpful anyway."

"What about time travel?" Jack- their teenage Jack, not the older past-version of him- asked. Tosh looked up to see Harry and Jack in the doorway. Harry was giving Jack a bit more space than usual, and Tosh wondered what Jack had done to upset him. Still, she didn't bother with it just now, as Jack continued, "My favourite heists all involve leaving with the stolen goods before I even arrive, that way I already know how it turned out and can even set up a perfect alibi."

Harry looked sideways at him, positively intrigued, "I'm not surprised you've done this before... but what if it went badly?"

"Then I wouldn't try it so it would never have gone wrong in the first place." Jack shrugged.

"Oh, that hurts my brain." Ron protested.

"You and me both." Gwen sympathised.

"I think I get it." Hermione said, thoughtfully, "I've done this with the Time Turner in third year. Left notes for myself so I know when to slip into class without being spotted. It's not on the same scale, but it _is_ the same principle."

"Exactly!" Jack said, grinning.

"So how do we do this, exactly?" Harry asked, settling next to Ron and glancing briefly at the scanner before looking back at Jack.

Jack sat on the arm of a chair between Gwen and Harry. "We wait for an owl telling us how we already did it."

Harry stared at him, "Tell me you're kidding?"

"Well, we need to research, of course." Jack said with a shrug, "But once we _see_ the right way to do it, once we're aware that it exists as an option, it's all about the laws of time travel. We're setting out to purposefully create a self-fulfilling temporal paradox. Our future selves will set out on the plan, if it fails we don't hear back from them so we know it's a bad plan and therefore we never tried it, if it succeeds we travel back to this point in time and send a message detailing exactly what we did. With this strategy we literally cannot fail... that doesn't mean it will go smoothly, just that it will work."

"So we keep researching, then?" Tosh offered.

"Until we get an owl from our future selves, yes." Jack nodded.

"You know, I kind of like this." Hermione smiled, glancing across at Harry, "Reminds me of Sirius and Buckbeak."

Harry laughed, though nobody else seemed to get it.

x x x

Ianto had resigned himself to staying at Hogwarts for the time being. Owen had sent word to Jack about it, and now he was staying with the D.A. in the Room of Requirement.

He had become bored enough (and entirely unable to locate John Hart now, in spite of his best concerted efforts to stalk the man), to spike one of the suspected Junior Death Eaters' drinks with Owen's potion. It turned out to be a gender-swap potion. The unfortunate seventh year boy had become the subject of ridicule from his classmates and a fair few curses and lewd threats from the other Junior Death Eaters. He ended up defecting, and swearing loyalty to Owen and the D.A., just for revenge.

Owen explained, carefully away from their new 'ally', that this potion had been in Godric Gryffindor's book of inventions, which he had acquired from Salazar's personal stash in the Chamber of Secrets, and he had really intended tricking Ianto into drinking it as a gag-gift for Jack. Ianto had spent twenty minutes explaining why this plan would have backfired, and Owen was now avoiding him.

It was a relatively quiet afternoon, when suddenly an illusion appeared in the D.A. living quarters. The images of Fred and George Weasley, both wearing Guy Fawkes masks- and Ianto would blame Owen for that, because the alternative was even worse- which did nothing to hide their infamous hair or voices were facing the crowd.

"Good evening one and all!" Fred crowed. Ianto had learned to tell which was which purely from the fact that when they did the double-act Fred _always_ took the first line.

"As you may or may not know-" George continued.

"-today is a very special day-"

"-and we'd like to think it's our duty to entertain you all-"

"-as much as it's your duty to offer up gifts-"

"-on this, the anniversary of our glorious birth!" they finished together.

"Don't let mom know we called it that." George muttered.

"Yeah, 'glorious' might not be the word she'd use."

"Agonising."

"Traumatic."

"A blight on creation."

"Devil spawn."

"Demons."

"Hang on-" Fred said suddenly, "-didn't Owen say devils and demons were enemies?"

George shrugged, "Does it matter?"

"Not really." Fred agreed.

"Anyway!" George declared.

"Yes, we have chosen, for your viewing pleasure tonight-"

"-at entirely the wrong time of year, but it's our birthday so that makes it okay-"

"-so enjoy!" they both crowed together, and the illusion faded to a view of the Great Hall. The angle was from high up on the wall, probably just below the enchanted ceiling, in the corner farthest from both the door to the entrance hall, which was situated almost opposite the source of the image, and the teacher's table.

It looked like a perfectly ordinary dinner time, under the Death Eater regime. Every student currently enrolled was present, subdued and silent as they ate, yet all the student tables were half-full at best, even the Slytherins. Gryffindor was the worst, only about a dozen of them were still attending Hogwarts through legitimate means. The rest were camped out in the ever-expanding D.A. hideout.

Most of the Hufflepuffs were staying with the D.A. as well, loyal to their school, their friends and a general concept of moral decency, far before the rule of state and law. The D.A. also boasted half the currently registered Ravenclaws... which still left the table only a third full, since a quarter of last year's Ravenclaw students had been Muggle-born.

Only about a quarter of Slytherin house had turned against the Death Eaters' rule, though between the Sorting Hat not giving them many new students this year, and their own share of Muggle-borns and 'blood traitors', that still left only just over half the house table's worth in the Great Hall now. Most of those who had turned to the D.A. were motivated through fear of Owen, Jack, or the belief that an ultimate victory by Harry Potter was inevitable. There were those with genuine loyalty as well, but even the most fickle were not turned away once they signed the contract to protect the D.A.'s secrets (or else).

It wasn't a holiday either. The Ravenclaws had set up study groups and schedules. The D.A. leaders and some of the older Gryffindors had snuck out to the library and acquired text books, and the combined desire to learn had resulted in those with contacts outside the school calling in _guest teachers_, either their own rebellious parents, or active members of the Order of the Phoenix.

They had learned Defence Against The Dark Arts from Kingsley Shacklebolt for one week. Studied potions under the tutelage of Damocles Belby for a couple of days a month when his business partners wouldn't notice his absence. Sirius Black also put in an appearance as often as he could, which turned out to be completely random, in order to hold incredibly unorthodox sessions teaching the subject of Transfiguration.

And nobody quite knew how Professor Flitwick managed to draw out his schedule to include a full two hours teaching every morning while he was supposed to be holding a class elsewhere in the castle, but one could just assume time turners and decide it's better than asking for the whole story.

But suddenly, Ianto's mind was drawn back to the present, as the silence in the remote image the Great Hall was interrupted by a loud shriek.

It was impossible to tell which student had screamed first, but they were all panicking as humanoid figures fell from overhead. It looked like they had been dropped from the rafters where they must have been stored under an invisibility or disillusionment spell. The figures were hanging from nooses so that they dangled just seven or eight feet over the ground, but it was almost immediately apparent that they were made of straw and cloth.

Each figure represented a Death Eater, with the exception of the largest one in he centre of the room which was clearly a crude and unflattering depiction of Lord Voldemort himself. The other four were fairly accurate imitations of Bellatrix Lestrange, Walden Macnair, and the Carrows.

"Oh no, they're going to-" Ianto heard a Hufflepuff girl in the Room of Requirement protest exasperated. Though she didn't explain what the twins were about to do, it was really quite obvious when you thought about it.

No sooner had she said it than the effigies burst into flames. Pretty multi-coloured flames, at that.

"We'd like to take this opportunity to inform you-" Fred Weasley's voice sounded through the room, though he was now nowhere to be seen.

"-that we went to a great amount of trouble-"

"-to make these Guys as accurate-"

"-as humanly possible."

"In other words-" Fred began.

"-they're _voodoo dolls!_" the twins finished together with a cheer.

"Whoo, yeah!" Lee Jordan whooped from across the room.

Even as the image panned in to show the real Carrows writhing on the ground, "Now as we all know-" Fred began to explain.

"-Voodoo magic needs a really old and powerful practitioner to do any lasting harm-"

"-and we did these ourselves-"

"-so odds are it won't do too much damage-"

"-but we can hope!" they chorused gleefully.

Owen sighed, standing next to Ianto now, "This just makes me wonder..." he pondered aloud, watching the entertainment with only mild interest and a slightly puzzled frown, "Who did everything else this last month. It's been hectic, and I never quite bought that the twins weren't behind it... but they do seem to like taking credit where it's due them."

Yes, Owen had explained the situation to Ianto almost as soon as he had taken up residence. It probably wasn't a coincidence that it had all stopped the same day Ianto arrived, leaving John Hart as the most likely suspect. Today's 'entertainment' was the result of the school calming down a bit too much after the chaos from before.

Even Peeves had gotten restless since Hart left, and if Owen was to be believed he had shown up in the middle of the Gryffindor common room and volunteered to serve as a 'loyal servant of discord' in any endeavours Owen and the twins put forth to such goals. He probably even had a hand in what happened today.

"I think I know who it was before." Ianto said flatly, "Got a good guess, at any rate."

"Yeah?" Owen asked hopefully.

"Not telling you, though." Ianto smirked.

Owen's eyes widened as he put the pieces together int he wrong order, "It was _you?_"

Ianto snorted, "I have standards, Owen. I wouldn't have done what our mysterious agent of chaos did to the Slytherin seventh years."

Owen shrugged, "Fair enough, I'll buy that."

Ianto nodded curtly, and turned his gaze back to the image of the Great Hall.

It really was quite therapeutic to watch even only an effigy of Voldemort burn.

x x x

'_Harry,_  
><em>It was just me, Ron and Hermione. It would have<em>  
><em> been a very bad idea to bring Jack.<em>  
><em>Don't bother fighting the enchantments, they're<em>  
><em> too fast. Also, we have a Time-Turner, so when<em>  
><em> you really think about it we were never going<em>  
><em> to get caught. Just make sure to use it as soon<em>  
><em> as you're off the cart.<em>  
><em>Griphook neglected to mention, you need a<em>  
><em> goblin's touch to get into the vault, and more<em>  
><em> importantly, out of it again.<em>  
><em>Hermione is awful at acting evil. Just tell her<em>  
><em> to pretend everyone she looks at burns books.<em>  
><em>That worked.<em>  
><em>Terrifyingly well.<em>  
><em>After the Time-Turner we had a bit of a problem.<em>  
><em>Remember to tell Hagrid about this once it's<em>  
><em> all over.<em>  
><em>Also, wait until 1st May before going. This bit<em>  
><em> is really hard to explain. Just trust me, okay?<em>  
><em>Harry.<em>'

"Well, that's informative." Jack said with a scowl, "I hate when I do that."

"You?" Harry asked sceptically.

"You don't really think this is the first time I've ever seen something like this? I've left trans-temporal messages for myself dozens of times." Jack said with a grin, "In fact, technically, I recruited myself to the Time Agency, by going back and telling my former tutor where to find me."

Ron and Gwen were now wearing equal expressions of confusion and 'I don't want to know'. Tosh was staring with wide-eyed fascination, and Hermione with bemused puzzlement.

Harry shook his head, "So I have to just take my future-self's word for it that that it's not a bad thing?"

"Harry, think about it." Hermione said reasonably, "Would you ever knowingly give yourself bad advice?"

Harry scowled, "Er... no."

"Then you can trust that your future self isn't hiding anything that would hurt us."

"Maybe he's hiding something that would put you off?" Tosh suggested with amusement, "Knowing details in advance can make some tasks infinitely more daunting."

"Or distracting." Jack smirked, "One time I got a letter from my future telling me I would have the best sex of my life in forty-eight hours so long as I didn't make a joke about her looking like a cactus."

"Cactus?" Ron muttered in horror.

"Very pretty green alien girl." Jack explained, causing Ron to whimper in a way that made it clear he had hoped _not_ to get an explanation. "Bit prickly, both literally and her personality. Totally worth it, though. Point is, I couldn't focus on anything important for the two days between getting the note and finally meeting her."

"I don't want to imagine how this could be relevant to our current situation." Harry said, staring at the letter, willing it to reveal more details.

"But the letter doesn't tell us how to get out!" Hermione protested.

"It told us we need Griphook to unlock the door, maybe that's all we needed?" Ron suggested.

"Maybe it'll be so obvious, once you're in there, that you didn't think it needed to be written down?" Tosh offered.

"Hagrid." Harry muttered, "I dread to think what that means."

Ron scowled as well, "Y'know, they say there's dragons down there, in Gringotts." he whispered, "Guarding the lower vaults."

"And you said taking me with you was a _bad_ idea?" Jack asked Harry, smirking incorrigibly through the jokingly sceptical tone.

Ron's forehead promptly made violent contact with the table in front of him, while everyone else laughed.

x x x

Outside of what Owen was gleefully referring to '_The Democratic Republic of Dumbledore's Army_', Hogwarts had descended into genuine anarchy. Over the course of only two weeks, since the Guy Fawkes stunt, the official student body had been reduced to only include the genuine Death Eater wannabies. Even the pureblood Slytherins, from the most fanatical family backgrounds, who understood at least some concept of morality had found it in their hearts to defect.

More from fear than loyalty at this stage.

It was genuinely dangerous to leave the '_D.A. Stronghold_', as the Gryffindors liked to call it.

There were a vast number of random fireworks roaming the school, magically programmed to only be dispellable by Professor Flitwick or the Weasley twins themselves... and for every one the Death Eaters forced Flitwick to put out, the twins set off two more.

Peeves was having the time of his unlife up there, and even the twins avoided him when he really got going. The Death Eaters had tried to arrange an exorcism, but Snape had laughed in their faces. Peeves was not a ghost, he was a poltergeist. A spirit of chaos, driven by the subconscious psychic residue of his environment.

With an entire school full of righteously rebellious teenagers fuelling Peeves' powers and actively encouraging him... even _Loki_ would be jealous.

Even Salazar himself- under the guise of Fawkes the phoenix- had begun to actively participate in the creation of chaos. And, naturally, he knew the school and how to abuse it even better than the twins.

The real trick to the whole thing, the reason the D.A. was still hidden and still safe, was thanks to Neville Longbottom. Neville had got the hang of the Room of Requirement so thoroughly that he was able to consciously choose who could even find it, and he had chosen to make it accessible to those who truly needed it but who also would not be either able or willing to betray the D.A.

It had been publicised that none who meant harm to the D.A. could ever find it... accompanied by the quote of what were apparently Dumbledore's own words, _"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."_

This had all been Neville's idea. Owen might run the dirty work, but Neville had become far more than a figurehead for the D.A. over the course of this year. He had become every bit the hero Harry had been prophesied to be. Just because you're not actively slaying a Dark Lord doesn't mean your great and good deeds, saving lives and protecting the innocent, shouldn't be acknowledged just as strongly.

But just as Ianto was beginning to really relax and enjoy the fact that his enemies were in chaos and he himself was quite comfortable in the Room of Requirement, he heard Owen's voice over the comms, "Oh bollocks."

Ianto sat up immediately, from where he had been lounging on one of the many hammocks that the D.A. used instead of beds, "What happened?"

But Owen didn't answer. Instead, he heard through the comms another voice, distant enough that it must not have noticed the comms yet, but near enough that the speaker must have been looming over Owen, "Finally, caught red-handed, Harper."

That was Snape.

Ianto winced at the ramifications of this, and echoed Owen's sentiments, "Oh bollocks indeed."

x x x


	128. Thief You Have Been Warned, Beware

x x x

**Chapter 128: Thief You Have Been Warned, Beware**

x x x

Owen found himself unceremoniously dragged up to the headmaster's office.

He was then surprised to see the doors locked behind the two of them, with spells designed to keep people _out_, not _in_... followed by a series of privacy spells that could even keep Tosh from eavesdropping for an hour or so. They were quite entirely alone.

"You're lucky it wasn't the Carrows who found you, Harper." Snape hissed, "They have been shooting to kill for the last three hours. If Peeves is to be believed, it 'tickles a little'."

Owen snorted, "Yeah, I'll bet." He desperately wanted to make a joke about Jack somehow, but both knew better and figured the Secret would probably make it physically impossible anyway.

Snape sighed, and sat behind the headmaster's desk. Owen figured Snape hadn't earned the title, so it wasn't really _his_ desk. Owen would quite like to claim it and sit behind it before the school year was up, for no better reason that it would be fun.

"Mr Harper." Snape said tiredly, "I recognise the signature of the Weasley twins when I see it, Peeves never even bothers to hide, and I thought I knew your style as well. There has been another kind of disruption, as if the four of you are not troublesome enough. Tell me who he is and how you managed to drag him into this mess you have helped to create?"

"He?" Owen asked sceptically, "I didn't even know that much."

Snape glared at him. "He is a powerful wizard, acquainted with a friend of yours, Mr Harkness, whom I had initially believed was behind it, until I met the true culprit."

Owen raised an eyebrow, "Don't know any wizards like Jack. Don't know any Muggles like Jack either, for that matter." Snape rolled his eyes in disgust, but Owen continued in a mutter, "'Cept one, but he couldn't... oh bugger! No way!"

Snape's questioning glare intensified by several degrees, and Owen figured it was in his best interests to elaborate.

"Uh, look, I don't know who's doing this, but my only deduction from the concept of 'thought it was Jack until it turned out it wasn't'... is one man, who I thought was, well, Muggle. Also, who couldn't possibly be here unless he's stalking us, and... y'know what, if you let me live I'll hunt him down and maim him for you?"

Snape raised a sceptical eyebrow, "Let you live? Mr Harper, if I had intended to harm you, we would not be speaking now."

"Let me go, then?" Owen suggested hopefully.

"If you could not comprehend the fact that the reason for so many privacy spells was my intention to set you free without the Carrows knowing, then I do not wish to hear your assumptions." Snape said coldly, "I have had quite enough of that kind of mental picture for this century!"

"So... in two years we can sic the innuendo squad on you, then?" Owen asked with a smirk. Snape _really_ looked like he wanted to strike Owen right now, but thankfully (for both of them, Owen figured), he refrained from doing so.

Snape's right eye twitched noticeably, but then he shook his head and with an exasperated sigh commanded, "Get out."

"Right." Owen said, standing up and only just resisting the urge to laugh, "Y'know, we knew all along you were on our side, this just proves it. Also, the setting your robes on fire thing wasn't us, it was the other guy. I'm pretty sure the rest of my house will get over the 'flaming Snape' joke by next century, and all."

"Out!" Snape snarled.

Owen sauntered out of the office, laughing all the way.

x x x

Ron knew it wasn't Bellatrix Lestrange, but it sure did look like her. He didn't know _where_ Hermione got the dress from, Lestrange was almost a foot taller, and basically just skin and bone in a corset that would have murdered Hermione. He really hoped, knowing how Polyjuice worked- and having had a bad experience with a Muggle body and jeans two sizes too small- that Hermione had put some kind of spell on it to make it just fit whatever her size, because he was trying very hard not to imagine how much it would hurt otherwise.

Mostly because that mental picture would be accompanied by the thought of wearing a corset himself, and that was just so very wrong.

"How do I look?" Hermione asked, turning on the spot.

"Uh..." Ron hesitated, not wanting to insult her, but definitely wanting to insult Lestrange.

"Hideous." Harry said with certainty, at exactly the same moment as Harkness also answered.

"Gorgeous."

Hermione gave Harkness a very sceptical look.

"What? I'm obviously a depraved individual who finds evil sexually attractive. You really haven't figured that out already?"

"So you're saying Ianto is evil?" Harry asked sceptically.

"In all the right ways." Jack grinned unrepentantly.

"Harry!" Ron protested, "Stop encouraging him!"

Harry shrugged, entirely unrepentant, "Shall we get on with this?" he asked, glancing at Griphook, who was lurking in the doorway to Shell Cottage, waiting extremely impatiently for them.

"Okay, Ron." Hermione declared, "Come here so I can do you."

Ron scowled. Polyjuice was the worst way to disguise or shape-shift themselves. When they had felt secure enough to have a choice in the matter, they had generally preferred to use Transfiguration on each other's facial features as a disguise. Problem was, Hermione may be brilliant at it, but she didn't seem to care about how Ron felt about being made to look like either a Muggle vagrant or a serial killer. "Right, but remember, I don't like the beard too long-"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, this isn't about looking handsome!" she exclaimed.

"It's not that, it gets in the way!" Ron protested, "But I liked my nose a bit shorter, try and do it the way you did last time."

"And you're sure he's straight?" Harkness asked dubiously.

Ron glowered at him, as Hermione began casting her Transfiguration spells. He felt his nose shift first, then his brow pushing forward and down like the dumb apes Crabbe and Goyle resembled. Finally his jaw widened, his hair grew down to shoulder-length, and he got the damned beard as well.

"There." Hermione declared, satisfied, "How does he look, boys?"

"Well, he's not my type, but he'll do." Harry declared, before Harkness could say anything even more insulting. "Shall we go, then?" Harry beckoned Griphook over to them, and the goblin nodded and skulked on over to the group.

"Be careful, okay?" Harkness said, to all of them, but mostly to Harry. He seemed pretty upset at the fact the letter had told him not to go. Ron wasn't sure if that was genuine concern for their wellbeing, or disappointment either at not getting to rob a bank or at not getting to flirt with more dragons. Or probably both.

Ron decided to ignore all logic and assume that it was just genuine concern. "Don't worry, mate. We'll watch out for him."

Harkness smirked that kind of evil, almost Malfoy-ish smirk he used when he wanted to say something nasty, but when he said, "You'd better." Ron could tell the threatening tone was purely joking.

x x x

Hermione had brought Lestrange's wand, but only in case of emergency. It didn't work very well for her, and it had been long enough since the fight at Malfoy Manor that they had concluded it was probably common knowledge that she didn't have it anymore. Whether she had been sighted wielding a new one, told people it broke, or even told the truth, didn't matter. They were pretty sure it wouldn't help now.

As they crossed the Muggle street, heading towards Diagon Alley, Harry whispered from under his invisibility cloak, where he was carrying Griphook on his back, "Just remember, you want to be angry, angry and _mean_. Imagine everyone you're speaking to burns books and routinely kicks house elves. They're all ignorant and beneath you."

"Called method acting, mate." Ron put in almost cheerfully. Hermione turned a death-glare on him, and he went several shades of white, "Yep." he almost squeaked, "Definitely working."

Hermione led the way into the Leaky Cauldron, and was greeted by a bowing and scraping Tom-the-barkeep, "Madam Lestrange." he murmured as he bowed.

Anyone who welcomes a Death Eater deserves a kick in teeth by one, Hermione thought to herself, and with that she snarled. "Get out of my way!"

The old barkeep backed off sharply, and did as he was ordered. It made Hermione sick, she immediately wanted to apologise. He was usually such a reasonable man, probably only enduring the Death Eater rule out of self-preservation. But she forced herself to remember that she had to act like a snotty bitch. Book burning, Harry had said. That really _did_ raise her ire, and she straightened up indignantly and stalked out the back.

She glanced behind to see she was not being watched, then tapped the brick on the wall sharply with the wand to let them into Diagon Alley. Quickly concealing the wand again, she looked at Ron, who was still kinda pale, and beckoned him to follow.

No one dared stand in her way as she strode down the cobbled street, focusing single-mindedly on their goal... because if she looked to the sides she might see someone she knew, or worse let slip her real emotions if she laid eyes upon the propaganda posters she knew lined every wall.

She stormed right past a group of beggars, who seemed to melt into the background as she approached... but one man, with a bandage over his right eye, lunged out at her, shouting, "My children! Where are my children? What has he done with them? You know, _you know!_"

Hermione turned to face him, taking one step back sharply, wand in her hand immediately. She suddenly found herself very grateful for the long sleeves of her dress for hiding its identity somewhat, "Take one more step and I will remove your remaining eye with my bare hands!" she snapped.

Thankfully, she didn't have to back up her false threat, as the man backed down in terror, glaring at her with hate but also far too much fear to act against her.

And with that she turned and made to continue on her way.

Except she was interrupted by the voice of another man approaching them, "Why, Madam Lestrange!"

If Jack did his homework properly, this was Virgil Travers, a known Death Eater on a par with Walden Macnair for known murder-count... and Hermione herself remembered him from the time they had broken into the Ministry of Magic to save the Muggleborns. "And what do you want?" she demanded icily.

Travers hesitated, evidently offended by her tone, "I merely sought to greet you, but if my presence is not welcome..."

Hermione eyed him coldly. She really didn't need to _act_ to show dislike for this man, "You catch me at a bad time." she conceded, "Perhaps some more... civilised company would be welcome." she sneered with a glower at the beggar who had attempted to accost her.

"Well, I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix." Travers said, in the somewhat slimy tone of one seeking to incriminate a rival.

"Really?" Hermione scoffed, "Why?"

"Well... I heard that the inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the... ah... escape."

Well that could become inconvenient, Hermione thought, but for the time being she had to give him an illusion of a reasonable explanation, "The Dark Lord forgives those who have served him most faithfully in the past." she eyed him up with blatant disdain, "Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is, Travers."

Travers levelled a glare at the beggar, who was still lurking in the shadows nearby. The man wisely fled. "How did it offend you?" Travers asked her.

"It does not matter, it will not do so again." she answered as coldly as she could manage.

"Some of these wandless can be troublesome." Travers said, in an idle conversational tone that made Hermione want to hex him on the spot, "While they do nothing but beg I have no objection, but one of them actually asked me to plead her case at the Ministry last week. 'I'm a witch, sir, I'm a witch, let me prove it to you!'" his tone couldn't be any more mocking if he tried, and Hermione's nausea at the woman's plight clearly came off to Travers as empathy for his discomfort in being approached by the victim instead. "As if I was going to give her my wand." Suddenly he turned more directly to her, and asked, "But whose wand are you using at the moment, Bellatrix? I heard that your own was lost?"

Hermione scoffed, "You think me so uncivilised as to lift filth from a Mudblood corpse? I had a new wand made, sent all the way to Paris for a fine walnut and phoenix by Lenor DeSade herself." she shifted her shoulders, frowning slightly, "Phoenix is far flightier than heartstring, but I must say it feels quite good." She brandished the walnut and heartstring wand that was in fact Bellatrix Lestrange's. It was easy to imply she had requested as close a copy as possible.

Travers let out a low whistle, "That must have been expensive."

Hermione shrugged, and laughed a cold bark, "As if I couldn't afford it?"

Travers laughed, "Indeed." he glanced at Ron, a sort of suspicious look, and asked, "Who is your friend? I do not recognize him."

"This is Dragomir Despard." she answered, quoting their original cover-story. An unknown foreigner would arouse much less suspicion than trying to impersonate _two_ known Death Eaters, "He speaks very little English, but he is in sympathy with the Dark Lord's aims. He has travelled here from Transylvania to see our new regime."

"Indeed? How do you do, Dragomir?"

"'Ow you?" Ron mumbled in a positively _dreadful_ fake-foreign accent, which she thought he might have attempted to copy from Viktor Krum... but it was so bad she just couldn't be sure.

Travers tentatively shook Ron's hand with such a level of disgust he might as well have been greeting a Muggle, before turning back to Hermione and promptly pretending Ron wasn't even there.

"So what brings you and your, ah, sympathetic friend to Diagon Alley this early?"

"I need to visit Gringotts." Hermione answered with an indignant sniff.

"Alas, I also." Travers admitted with a long-suffering sigh that made Hermione want nothing quite so much as to slap him, "Gold, filthy gold! We cannot live without it, yet I confess I deplore the necessity of consorting with our long-fingered friends." he gestured towards the bank, with a poor attempt at chivalry, "Shall we?"

Hermione sniffed indignantly, and stalked off ahead of Travers, leaving him with no choice but to follow her.

x x x

Ron shrugged, in his best Vincent Crabbe impersonation, when Travers gave him a sceptical look at Hermione's behaviour. He wanted to make a joke about PMS, but doubted it would go down well... especially if Hermione heard him. So he simply followed as well.

The plan was to convince the goblins that Hermione was Lestrange. A real Death Eater showing up hadn't been part of the plan. Convincing the goblins would be a hell of a lot easier than someone who actually KNEW her. Toshiko and Griphook had confirmed that Polyjuice would pass all detection spells short of those found within the vaults... even something called 'D.N.A.' that Muggles used and the goblins had picked up shortly before the war began.

Turned out, unlike their pureblood oppressors, the goblins downright _loved_ Muggle innovations, though Griphook had said they used spells to read it, where Muggles used machines.

Still, Polyjuice covered the lot.

Once they reached the golden doors of the magical bank, a pair of wizards scanned them with Probity Probes. Those didn't even work for identity at the best of times, just to see if you had anything dangerous on your person. Not even his friends from the future seemed to get Harkness's joke about 'T.S.A.' when that was brought up in the planning phase.

Muggles _really_ had a thing for acronyms, Ron figured, even more than wizarding school examiners. Maybe that was where Hermione got the SPEW idea from?

When the Probity Probes turned on Ron, however... well, that could be a problem. Concealment spells and transfigurations, they could pick up. But then the two wizards doing the scans suddenly got a glazed look in their eyes and just didn't notice when the things flashed up that there was a problem. And Travers wasn't even looking at them, so he didn't see it either.

Ron glanced over his shoulder, but couldn't see where Harry was... only knew that that _had_ to be the cause of it. Confundus charms.

As Hermione pretended to explain the workings of Gringotts to him, Ron glanced at the thin air he was guessing Harry occupied, then asked to Hermione in a mumbled undertone, "Can't we Confund 'im, too?" nodding to Travers.

"Bit late, now." Harry's voice whispered, right by his left ear, "Goblins would see."

"Bollocks." Ron grumbled.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Harry whispered, "I just can't shake the... whoa, yeah, we're in trouble."

"What?" Hermione hissed, pretending to aim her query at Ron.

"Riddle is with Bellatrix now. He's just _waiting_ for exactly this." Harry answered, sounding pretty shaken, "She must have confessed to mentioning the vault. Does Gringotts have any kind of silent alarm?"

"If they do, it's already activated." Hermione answered curtly, "Let's just get on with the plan."

"The plan relied in them not expecting us." Ron muttered, still holding up his fake accent just in case.

"Brute force, then?" Harry asked, so matter-of-fact, "I can Imperio Travers and maybe one goblin?"

"Yes." Griphook's voice insisted from right by Harry's, "Do it! If they suspect, you have no other choice."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and dragged Ron forward, "You talk too much!" she snapped, loudly and clearly, for their audience's benefit.

When she approached the desk, the goblin there positively jumped, "Madam Lestrange! Dear me! How- how may I help you today?"

Yep, definitely on-edge, Ron thought. Then he just about heard the whisper of "Imperio." from his left, and Travers went blank. One down.

"I wish to enter my vault." Hermione demanded. And at that, the goblin positively cringed.

"Imperio." Harry whispered once more, and the goblin visibly relaxed.

"I will just need to confirm identification." the goblin said easily, producing a metal plate from behind the desk, "Place your palm just there, if you would."

Hermione complied, and a very positive-sounding ding emitted from the machine.

"Identity confirmed. Right this way, please, Madam Lestrange." the goblin declared, hopping down off his high stool and walking briskly towards the great vault-like doors that led to the tunnels below the building. He summoned another goblin as he walked, and commanded, "I shall need the Clankers."

Another goblin did try to talk the Imperiused one out of it, but Harry had him pull a Fudge, muttering about very old families and understanding the rules while obviously he was going on about breaking them.

From there it was easy. Into the cart and racing down towards the lower levels. They hit the waterfall Griphook had predicted, and Ron was suddenly really grateful for those D.A. sessions of levitating each-other, because they were able to easily float down without any trouble.

The concealment spells on Ron, and the Polyjuice on Hermione had been broken... but the rest of their stuff was safe.

They left the older goblin and Travers behind, Harry allowing the Imperius to break just as they activated the Time Turner and went back five hours.

x x x


	129. Of Finding More Than Treasure There

x x x

**Chapter 129: Of Finding More Than Treasure There**

x x x

It took them a few minutes to get everything sorted out after using the Time Turner. Would have been downright hectic if they had been under pressure. Hermione adjusted the length of her skirt to something just below the knee, instead of about three inches trailing on the ground. Ron itched where the beard had been moments before the magical waterfall had dispelled it.

"Hang on, didn't we need that other goblin to get into the vault?"

"You need a goblin who knows the locks." Griphook corrected, smiling wickedly, "While it is true I will have more trouble than Bogrod, I can still manage. I would say your greater challenge lies in the enchantments upon the treasure, rather than the seals on the doors. I am not well versed in what lies in the deepest levels... beyond the obvious." he held up the metal Clankers, in such a way that they did not jangle at all, "We shall require these."

Ron's eyes narrowed, "Why, exactly?"

"You shall see." Griphook said, continuing to grin just a bit too widely.

As Griphook led the way, Harry, Ron and Hermione were forced to follow. "How are we going to get out again?" Ron asked.

"Apparently it's a surprise." Harry shrugged, "I can't see why I wouldn't have explained it in more detail."

"Maybe you thought someone would intercept the letter?" Hermione suggested.

Harry stopped in his tracks, and pulled the letter out of his mokeskin pouch, examining it very carefully. After a moment, he muttered darkly, "Or maybe someone did intercept it. Look, this bit here." he pointed to the line that said '_It would have been a very bad idea to bring Jack._' "And here." he indicated, '_Also, wait until 1st May before going. This bit is really hard to explain. Just trust me, okay?_' "It looks a bit off, if you look at it closely."

The ink was heavier in those places, not so much blotting, more like it was written more slowly and deliberately.

"Revelio." Hermione commanded, waving Bellatrix's wand at the page... but there was no change whatsoever. She peered more closely at it, "You're sure?"

"Only if we're being very paranoid." Harry conceded.

"Well, if it was forged, it's very good." Hermione explained critically, "Better than a dictaquill, and entirely by hand. There's no magic on it at all."

"What's the hold up?" Ron asked, wandering back over to them and leading a disgruntled Griphook with him.

"Just checking something." Harry said quickly, "No reason to worry."

Ron looked deeply sceptical, "Yeah there is, isn't there? You just don't want me to worry."

"There's _probably_ no reason to worry." Harry said, "Just being paranoid."

"Extremely paranoid." Hermione agreed.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Come on, mate. You got the letter, didn't you? That means it's already worked, doesn't it?"

Harry glanced at Hermione, almost nervously, "I was only worried about two lines, not all of it." he admitted, "Ron's right."

"'Course I am." Ron grinned, "Haven't a clue how what we're talking about works, but I know it's got to, right?"

Hermione grinned, "Right. Come on, let's get moving."

They hadn't walked much further when Griphook led them around a corner and into a huge cavern... in which they saw a huge dragon. It looked like the pictures Hermione had shown him of a Ukrainian Ironbelly, the biggest breed of dragon still living on Earth (although Hermione had gone on to describe some extinct species that were even larger and some Muggle-borns theorised they were related to the Tyrannosaurus).

And if you believed a word Jack said, there was still a Pteronodon alive in twenty-first century Cardiff, as well.

Except an Ironbelly was meant to be metallic grey. This one was white, and its scales looked positively sickly. It also has several extremely vicious looking scars across its face and front feet, while its back legs were shackled to the ground and its wings were bound tight with metal struts. This was no pet guarding your home out of loyalty... it was more like a cruel owner chaining and starving an animal so it would be vicious to anyone it met.

The only good thing about this dragon, right now, was that it was asleep. Its snores, broken and disrupted by what honestly looked like nightmares, judging by the twitching and whining, managed to shake the ground beneath their feet.

"School motto?" Hermione suggested, in a slightly squeaky whisper.

Ron only just stifled a snort of laughter with both hands. Harry just nodded dumbly for a second, before agreeing, "School motto."

Griphook shrugged and walked ahead, past the sleeping dragon, and out down another path, which led past several sets of tall golden vault doors.

Until they reached one which was already open a crack.

Griphook appeared most offended when he saw this, and indicated towards it, "This is the vault of Bellatrix Black Lestrange."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged wary looks, before cautiously approaching the door, wands out in case they needed to fight. It was Harry who eventually took a deep breath and pushed the heavy-looking vault door, which opened wide with ease.

x x x

"Tell me again why we didn't go with them?" Draco asked, sitting in one of the armchairs in Shell Cottage, facing two different versions of Jack Harkness, and trying to pretend that wasn't at all strange.

"Because the letter said not to." the teenage Jack answered.

"So Potter went back in time and sent himself a letter to explain how to do what he had just done." Draco repeated for the dozenth time, still not entirely sure that made any kind of sense, "And he told us to sit here and do nothing?"

"No, he just said it was only him, Ron and Hermione who should go." Jack answered.

"And that you, specifically, should stay here." Draco repeated, "I wasn't mentioned, right?"

"Right."

"Doesn't that feel suspicious?"

The adult Jack grinned, "Upset that he forgot about you?"

Draco glared at him, but finally did answer with clear defiance to the obvious insinuation, "Yes, actually. I thought I was supposed to be a part of the team now, there has to be something useful we can do."

"Such as?" teenage Jack asked, "I don't know if you noticed, but breaking into the most secure bank in the country probably works better with fewer people. Large groups can be suspicious."

Draco snorted, "I mean we're just sitting here doing nothing. It feels wrong."

"He's right, Jack." Gwen said, as she and Tosh entered the room, both looking very business-like. "We need to be doing something."

"The readings from the crystal are off the scale." Tosh explained, sounding distinctly worried, "By my last estimate, we have at most three days left." she levelled a very serious stare at Jack, before repeating, "At most."

Jack winced at this, "Really?" he asked, standing up.

"Crystal?" Draco asked sceptically.

"It's how we got de-aged and time-travelled here." Jack said dismissively, "Someone sent it to us, without an instruction manual. That's how this all started."

"If we only have three days left here..." Gwen began.

"Then we need to make them count." Jack answered immediately, before turning to Tosh, "How long have you had that number?"

"A couple of years." she shrugged.

"Damn. I lost track of time." Jack muttered.

Meanwhile, the older version of Jack looked at Draco and shrugged, "Do we actually want to know?"

Draco scowled at him, then stood and approached the other three teenagers, "Have you any idea _why_ you were brought here?"

"Not really." Tosh conceded.

"But someone went to a lot of trouble to make that thing and send it to us. It must be for a reason." Gwen insisted.

"That's what I was thinking." Draco agreed, "No one would waste magic that advanced on anything trivial."

"How do you know how advanced it is?" Gwen asked suspiciously.

"You were brought back in time how far?" Draco asked sceptically.

"About twelve years." Tosh answered.

"And you were de-aged, on a physical level, not just aesthetics... which is meant to be a lost art." Draco continued, "Anyone who _can_ do that wants you here for a reason."

"And what would you say that reason is?" Jack asked, smirking.

"Simple." Draco answered, "There's only one great magical threat to the world in this time. Don't tell me you didn't already know."

"I had a feeling." Jack conceded, "We are somehow important to helping to defeat the Dark Lord."

"But, if he wasn't defeated without us, wouldn't we have known something was off?" Gwen asked.

"Not necessarily." Jack answered with a shrug, "If it's a stable paradox then we always were here in this time." he hesitated, frowning, "It might not be, though. Not if... not if John was telling the truth."

"John?" Gwen asked warily.

"Don't tell me you didn't know Ianto is sleeping with Jack's evil ex?" Draco jeered.

"Tact, Malfoy. Look it up some time." Jack growled.

"You first." Draco grinned.

Tosh rolled her eyes at them both, while Gwen hit her forehead with the heel of her hand in a gesture that Draco was pretty sure originated in Muggle culture. Its meaning was pretty clear, though. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"Stalking, apparently." Jack said with a shrug, "He implied we had affected the timelines by being here... which- assuming the extremely unlikely scenario that he's telling the truth- would mean that we need to find out what we did wrong and fix it. In less than three days."

Draco laughed, "That's just fantastic!"

Jack gave him a sideways look, as if he had just said something very significant... or at least reminded Jack of something with those words. Then, terrifyingly, Jack grinned, "It is, isn't it?"

x x x

"You're late, you know."

There, in the middle of the Black family vault, was an unfamiliar man bearing a striking similarity- not in appearance, but in posture, attitude and... even at this distance Harry could identify that strange unnatural scent- to Jack Harkness. His short dark-fair hair looked like the tips had been bleached, giving it an oddly gilded look in the light of the vault. The cloak he wore was stark Gryffindor-red, but the rest of his attire was distinctly Muggle... and he wore a belt affixed to which were two guns and a sword.

He was seated on an elaborate darkwood and silver chair, wearing what looked like a silver crown, and holding the golden goblet of Helga Hufflepuff loosely in one hand.

"Of course, technically that just means historical records are inaccurate." the man continued idly, "But either way I've been waiting here for almost two hours!"

He stood slowly, pocketing the crown and a few other pieces of jewellery- into what had to be wizard-space pockets- and holding out the goblet to Harry, "I believe you're looking for this?"

"Yes." Harry stepped forward and moved to take the goblet.

But the man pulled it back, laughing, "Ah ah! Not yet." he taunted, "You know, I'm not usually one to fawn over the celebrities I stalk, but I really have to say, you're a lot better looking in person." His eyes blatantly ran over Harry for a moment, and the leer on his face was more than blatant.

"You're related to Harkness, aren't you?" Ron demanded.

"Not by blood." the man retorted, "But I suppose... technically..." He shrugged. His eyes had not yet left Harry. "I am quite the connoisseur of history. I have a collection from some of the greatest names of all time, but until very recently I've never had the chance to meet any... magical figures."

"What do you want?" Harry interrupted sharply.

"One kiss." the man shrugged, "Then I'll give you this, and even tell you how to destroy it without damaging the valuable historical artefact."

"That's disgusting!" Ron declared loudly.

"How _old_ are you?" Hermione demanded, eyeing the man sceptically.

Still, he hadn't taken his eyes off Harry, as he answered with evident amusement, "Younger than Jack. Not that that's difficult these days. Well?" Harry didn't answer immediately, and the man only paused for a second before adding, "You know, it will make your life a whole lot simpler if you just agree. I'm not saying you can't stop him without my advice, but... time is a factor now, really."

"What d'you mean?" Ron demanded angrily.

"You tripped a silent alarm when you entered this vault. Soon you'll be cornered here, with only one means of escape- oh, and I do mean to go with you by the way, I've always wanted to try _that_. Unfortunately, it will draw a lot of attention to what you were doing down here in the first place, and your pet Dark Lord _will_ be on the warpath."

Harry considered this carefully, "Give me the Cup now." he said, holding his hand out, "We'll talk about the rest of your... offer, once we're out of Gringotts."

The sounds of loud shouting, and the Clankers that the dragons had been conditioned to fear, echoed from outside the vault, and the man looked up sharply, past Harry, at this. "Deal." he said simply, throwing the Cup to Harry, who caught it fairly easily. "_Don't_ touch any of the other treasure!" he added, pointing at Ron, who had been about to filch a few Galleons. It was the Lestranges', who could blame him? "Takes bloody hours to break a Gemino charm, so unless you want to be buried alive...?"

Ron glowered at the man, but reluctantly left the money where it was, whispering to Hermione, "What's a Gemino charm?"

"Makes objects multiply exponentially every time you touch them or one of their copies." Hermione answered efficiently, under her breath, "Disappears after a few hours, like Leprechaun gold... but he's right, it could be very dangerous. Actually, come to think of it, I think Leprechauns might use something similar to Gemino charms themselves."

"That's nice." the man sniped at her, "Can we think about escaping, now? Run, flee, generally get the hell out of Dodge?"

x x x

Just as past-Jack, Gwen and Tosh had begun to argue about what they should do next, Jack's wrist-strap beeped.

"Well bollocks!" Gwen declared loudly, turning on Jack and folding her arms as she glared at the offending device.

He pressed the button to play the message his wrist-strap had received.

"Hey, honey. Long time no see." the far-too-familiar voice of John Hart announced cheerfully, this time with no image. The way Jack's past-self now stared at the wrist-strap as if it had just tried to bite him might have been comical... if Jack didn't feel just about as offended himself, "Well, I've seen you, you haven't seen me. Like old times, huh?"

Jack rolled his eyes, "Get to the point." he muttered.

There was a sigh and Jack could practically picture John rolling his eyes. It was a recorded message but they did know each other very well in the old days, and it was easy enough for John to assume he would have said just that... because he would have then, too.

"Anyway, this is a time-delayed recording, so by the time you get it I won't be where I was when I sent it. I just thought you'd like the attached coordinates. Yes, I'm meddling, so sue me. You were screwing it all up, anyway."

And with an abrupt beep, and a digital display of spatial-temporal coordinates that the wrist-strap automatically saved, the message ended.

"Just when were you planning on telling me _this_ was the specific 'evil ex' you were referring to?" Jack's past-self asked, more than a little bit indignant.

Draco rolled his eyes, "How many of them were evil, exactly?" he had to ask.

"Including you?" Jack asked, smirking.

At the same moment, Jack's past-self said, "Define evil."

Draco glared coldly at both of them. "Forget I asked."

x x x

The stranger who had been waiting for them in the vault had done precisely _nothing_ when the goblin and wizard guards had stormed into the cavern they had been trying to escape through. The loud noises of the Clankers the goblins wielded _had_ succeeded in waking the dragon, which had angrily spat fire at them.

Ron couldn't blame it, if someone woke him up that rudely, he'd probably want to set them on fire, too. Not like seriously, but maybe singe them a bit.

It had been _Harry's_ idea to jump onto the dragon's back as it roared at the guards. It was _Harry_ who had broken the dragon's chains and the metal bindings on its wings. Ron might have pissed himself right then, if it had been facing them. Thankfully, it didn't even seem to notice as Harry clambered up, followed by Hermione, Ron and Griphook.

The stranger had leapt on last, right in front of Harry. And right now, as the dragon charged towards the narrow tunnel that led out of the vast cavern, the stranger was whooping with delight, as if it was all just great fun. But then he seemed to hesitate, and with a dramatic sigh waved his left hand- _hand_, not wand- he conjured a rope of golden energy that wrapped around the dragon's neck and down through its jaws like a bridle on a bloody horse!

"Wrong way, big fella!" the stranger laughed, turning the dragon around with the _reins_ he had conjured, and pointing them _up_. With another blast of light, this time red, the ceiling gave way and split open, forming a tunnel directly upwards out of the vaults. "Can't have him interfering with what you three haven't done yet, can we?" the man laughed.

The dragon took the hint and with a powerful flap of its great leathery wings it took off, barrelling upwards at a ridiculous speed.

Harry, who was holding on to the man's waist for support, could be heard to mutter, "I want to ask where he's hiding his wand... but I get the feeling I don't want to hear _his_ answer."

Hermione giggled almost hysterically, from where she was sandwiched between Harry and Ron.

"That's disgusting." Ron mumbled, checking Griphook was still there behind him.

Then with a rumbling of stone shifting above them, they suddenly burst out into the light of day. The sun was only just beginning to rise on the horizon, and they had emerged in the middle of London, tearing up through what looked like an old warehouse about a mile out from the city centre.

The stranger did glance back down, and muttered, "Oops... I think I broke something important back there." but then he shrugged, waved his hand back behind them, and muttered, "Reparo." and the building reassembled itself just like that.

Even freaking _Dumbledore_ put more effort into that level of magic than that!

Who the bloody hell was this guy?

x x x


	130. Hart And Soul

x x x

**Chapter 130: Hart And Soul**

x x x

"How did you know we'd be stuck with _this_ as our only option?" Ron demanded. His voice was entirely too high-pitched for any sane male's comfort, but he was also too terrified to care.

They were soaring over the countryside, miles north of London and still going strong. The reins had vanished as soon as the stranger had directed the dragon upwards, like he really didn't care which direction they went in now. The man laughed, "Take your friend's example. Don't ask questions you really don't want to hear the answers to."

"How'd you repair that building?" Ron demanded, hoping this might be a safer question.

The man snorted, glancing over his shoulder, "You know it's cute, most people in this era still think that Time Magic is some kind of advanced transfiguration."

"Time Magic?" Hermione asked, her curiosity getting to the point where she really wasn't thinking about the fact they were _miles in the air on the back of a dragon_ while holding this perfectly casual conversation.

"Answers you don't want to hear." the man taunted.

Hermione scowled. She was really cute when she was puzzled like that.

"Did you have a plan for landing?" the man asked, glancing back at Harry. Harry shook his head. "I'd suggest we jump... assuming you all can levitate?"

Hermione was the one to shoot a concerned look at Griphook, who was clinging on to Ron's shoulders just a bit too tightly.

"We can..." Hermione said, her tone questioning as she regarded the goblin.

Griphook nodded, "And I can hold on."

"Yeah, he's got way too good a grip right now." Ron grumbled.

"Tell me about it." Harry laughed. But then he yelped indignantly as the stranger's hand brushed over Harry's hand, which was still holding his waist. "Don't you start." Harry commanded coldly.

"Why not?" the man taunted, smirking back at them.

"Mostly the part where we're miles up in the air, on the back of a DRAGON." Harry answered pointedly.

"That makes it more fun." the man insisted, "Like the eagles."

"That's just sick." Hermione yelped.

"I don't get it." Ron said.

"Be thankful." Hermione said with a sigh, "Although I do hope you know that isn't actually how-"

"Hermione, please don't ever tell me." Harry protested, "Besides, I think I can already guess." he shook his head and determinedly changed the subject, "We are all going to levitate down, now. No more stupid jokes!"

"I wasn't really joking." the man muttered, but then with a sigh he shrugged, "Fine, but I can fly myself."

Harry regarded him coldly for that, "How?"

"There you go with the questions you don't want to know the answers to, again." he grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes and drew his wand, "Okay, Hermione, I've got you."

Hermione nodded, and she turned to face Ron, drawing Lestrange's wand, "Ready?"

Ron drew his own wand, and nodded, "Yeah."

And with that, they jumped.

x x x

They didn't quite see how the stranger had made it to the ground, only that he was waiting for them as they floated down, carefully levitating each other. It had been a very long way down, and they were all completely exhausted.

"You know, now I think about it, we could have Apparated." Hermione observed, as she set Ron lightly down to his feet.

Ron scowled at this, "You mean we did all that levitating for nothing?"

Hermione looked sheepish.

"Doesn't matter now." Harry said simply, "We need to destroy the Horcrux, and then there's only one thing left to do."

Ron did not like the expression on the stranger's face right now. He shifted as if he _knew_ something they didn't. "Yeah, about that... have you thought about my offer?" he asked, approaching them.

Harry shrugged dismissively, "We can just take it back to Shell Cottage and-"

"Oh, come on!" the man protested, "Just one kiss and I'll destroy it right here and now for you. Save you all that trouble."

Harry frowned at him, "I'm really not seeing how that's a better offer. We have to go back anyway, to get the others and figure out how to stop..." he trailed off, remembering the Taboo just in time.

The man rolled his eyes, "You really think he isn't coming after you right now? The only reason you were able to walk right on into the bank in two hours' time was because he wasn't looking in that direction anymore."

Harry hesitated. His scar was prickling with a feeling something like... dread. Like _Voldemort_ was _afraid_. "You may be right there." Harry conceded, "But he can't find us at Shell Cottage, and-"

The man scoffed, "Oh, come on. Just one kiss, what's so bad about that?"

"You seem pretty insistent." Hermione said sharply, "Why is that?"

"Alright, you've got me." the man said defensively, "I'm a time traveller from the future, and the reincarnation of Colin Creevey. It's a hero-worship thing, I've always wanted, just once-"

"Bullshit!" Ron shouted, laughing like mad now.

Hermione and Harry were laughing as well.

The man smirked lopsidedly, "Okay so I lied about the Colin Creevey part. The rest of it is mostly, somewhat true. Generally speaking."

As the three teenagers laughed, the man sat down with his back to a nearby tree and just lounged there like he really thought he owned the place and had no need to even pretend to look imposing. After a minute they sobered up and Harry turned to him, "You just want a kiss?"

"That's right." the man said with a grin.

Harry crouched down next to him, face to face, "And how will you destroy the Horcrux for us? Can you cast the killing curse?"

The man's eyes darted to the side in a clear tell that the answer wasn't one he wanted to give. Therefore it had to be a resounding 'no'. There were only two ways to destroy a Horcrux without damaging its physical form... and the other one was not something a human could control.

"So basically, you lied." Harry said flatly.

He shrugged, "Oh, come on, admit it. You want me."

It was Harry's turn to hesitate. This man was certainly handsome, and there was that same kind of intoxicating scent- almost but not entirely the same as Jack- that added to the effect almost like inhaling Amortentia fumes. But Harry loved Ginny, and would not betray her, especially for this kind of cheap trick. "You're wasting our time." he said coldly.

"I can help you fight." the man said quickly, grabbing Harry's arm to stop him from backing away, "You've got an army to get through to get to him, and I can help."

"For a price, right?" Harry positively sneered. Again he didn't answer. "Well?" Harry asked.

"Let's put it this way, you give me what I want and I'll be a lot more enthusiastic about helping you." the man said with a smirk. So basically he had a conscience, he would just rather get his selfish way as well as do the right thing.

Harry rolled his eyes, "You're a completely amoral bastard."

"That a problem?" the man asked with all false innocence.

"Yep, definitely related to Harkness." Ron muttered.

The man laughed, "You really have no idea."

Harry smiled a very cold smile. It was getting harder to concentrate, his scar was beginning to burn and he just knew Voldemort was going from scared to angry right about now. "I'm willing to bet your name is John Hart."

The man chuckled, "You'd lose that bet. I have _used_ that name once or twice, but it's really not mine."

Harry pulled his arm sharply out of this man's grip, then stood up and offered him a hand, "If I thought it would be difficult to destroy the Horcrux, I might have said yes... but Jack can just cast the killing curse on it."

Hart stared in shock, not accepting the offer, "What? Jack can cast the killing curse?"

"You're surprised?" Harry asked coldly.

"Yeah, a bit." Hart admitted, "Didn't think he was that far gone. Hell, I'M not that far gone!"

"And how were you planning on destroying it for us, then?" Harry asked sceptically.

"None of your damned business." Hart snapped irritably, finally accepting the offered hand and pulling himself to his feet with obvious reluctance, "Can't bloody believe you turned me down, either."

"Maybe if you hadn't tried to _buy_ me." Harry suggested darkly.

x x x

"You know, it really shouldn't be so easy to sneak into a place with as many protection charms as Hogwarts, especially when the current powers that be don't want anyone to." Jack murmured, as he led Gwen, Tosh and Draco along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, towards the plinth that would bring them down into the Chamber of Secrets.

The other version of Jack had promised to catch up to them, though Draco was deeply sceptical of how the Muggle expected to manage that. None of the others had seemed at all concerned when he had asked this, and in fact the other Jack had been entirely too smug about it.

That was worrying. It meant they knew something Draco didn't, and Draco hated it when he didn't know something important.

"Well, you _did_ bring us in _through_ the _Forbidden Forest_." Draco observed bitterly. He had _not_ enjoyed that part one little bit.

"And nothing bothered us." Tosh countered, almost cheerfully.

"I'm just _that_ good." Jack smirked at them, before beckoning them over to stand next to him. Once they did so, a tap of a button on his wrist-strap played back the recording of the hissed password, and just like that they were in.

"Too easy." Draco announced bluntly.

"Yes, he is." Ianto's voice called across the atrium of the Chamber of Secrets. He was standing in the doorway to the laboratory, trying and failing to look casual, though he managed to pull off the casual tone of voice perfectly, "What is it about your stalker exes and jewellery?" he asked Jack, a bit too cheerfully, as he approached the group, "Is this standard procedure, do I have to buy you something? Necklace, bracelets, earrings?"

The two girls were fighting back the urge to laugh at this exchange, but it was Draco who had the nerve to comment, with a smirk, "I knew he was the girl."

"That says more about you than him." Ianto told him flatly, before returning his amused yet somehow oddly tense gaze to Jack.

"So it's true?" Jack asked.

Ianto held up a silver and green ring, "Considering what it is... it's actually kind of comforting. Barely want to give it back to you."

"What is it?" Gwen had the nerve to ask.

"It's personal." Jack said coldly, taking the ring, "I'm not sure if this means he knows me too well, or it was just the first random thing he could find."

"House colours?" Ianto asked sceptically, "I'd go with the latter."

Jack smirked, "Doesn't really matter. I'm going to have to destroy it."

Ianto's expression was one of distaste, his face scrunching up as if he'd just smelled something foul, "Is that wise?" he asked sceptically, "I'd rather try to find a way to... undo it, instead of just destroying it."

Draco sighed, glancing at the two girls, who looked just as confused as he felt, and in Gwen's case just as annoyed by that confusion, "They're not going to tell us, are they?"

"No..." Gwen said, sounding blatantly upset by this, "They like their secrets, those two."

Tosh chuckled, "I think it's sweet."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Can we skip the sentimentality, and get to the part where being here was a good idea, please?"

Jack looked to Ianto curiously, "You didn't know we were coming."

"You were spotted coming into the castle." Before anyone could voice horror at this, Ianto quickly reassured them, "It's the Weasley twins, they know things. The Death Eaters are too busy being tortured by Peeves to even notice Owen turned them neon orange this morning."

"Oh, what's Peeves doing?" Draco asked, grinning, "And to whom?"

"The Carrows, mostly. He leaves Snape alone." Ianto shrugged, "And this morning it involved glitter, firecrackers, and I hope I'm wrong about this but Owen did mention KY jelly."

Jack actually winced, but Draco was already laughing.

"Oh my god..." Gwen mumbled, awed.

"It's like Umbridge was the warm-up act." Ianto assured them solemnly, "Now there are days you can't tell if it's Owen or Peeves... they're working in perfect harmony. Admittedly, to create discord, but it's still impressive."

"I'll bet." Draco grinned, "Did you record any of it?"

"Yes, the twins are making a documentary." Ianto nodded, only just failing to bite back a smirk, "Owen told them some Muggle myths, like Bloody Mary and Betelgeuse... they're telling people he can do that. Appear if you say his name three times, and wreak havoc on their lives. He's actually followed through on a few of the junior Death Eaters. They're as scared of his name as they are of Riddle's, now. Derrin is particularly upset about it."

"Aww, and we missed all the fun." Jack positively pouted, "I should have come up here with you. Keep you company."

And there was the usual suggestive wink. Draco yawned pointedly. Jack took the hint.

"Anyway." he continued quickly, "Why we're here... Tosh did a tracking... thing." he glanced at her.

"Combined magic with the Arcturan relay your past-self 'borrowed' from work." Tosh said brightly, "Figured out a slightly extra-temporal signal, enhanced it with what I could remember of my rift-detection software... it said when this crystal activates it's going to be in Hogwarts. In fact, I got the impression it would be here even if we didn't bring it."

"And trust me, you never want to make a paradox like _that_ happen." Jack put in.

"So we came up here as quickly as we could." Tosh added, "The magical side of the detection was pretty chaotic, like something big is going to happen right before it activates... so probably..."

"Hopefully the Dark Lord's last stand." Draco offered.

Tosh frowned, "As far as I can tell, it looks more like all-out war."

"Which is why my past-self went to find Archie."

"Oh no." Ianto said, horrified.

Jack grinned. "Oh yes."

x x x

"What is it about dragons?" Ron grumbled, as they approached Hogsmeade from the caves where Sirius had hidden out in their fourth year. It was the least guarded direction, according to this John Hart person, and so far he seemed not to have been lying about that. "First Hagrid, then Harkness, now this guy?!"

Hart smirked a deliberately infuriating cross between Malfoy's '_I hate you please drop dead_' and Jack's '_but sleep with me first_'. "Your brother Charlie likes them, too."

Ron cringed in horror, "I do not want to know how you think you know that!"

"Can we gag him?" Hermione suggested hopefully.

"He'd probably enjoy it." Harry muttered.

He wasn't entirely able to concentrate. Hadn't been for a while now, and was just following his own instinct that they had to get to Hogwarts, because that was where Voldemort was going so very soon. He would feel the need to check all of his Horcruxes, and he already knew Nagini was dead, the goblet stolen... it was only a matter of time, now.

Voldemort had gone from scared to angry to homicidal during the last half hour, and had literally slaughtered everyone who had witnessed the news of the goblet. Well, everyone who hadn't run away fast enough, anyway. And now he was the kind of eerie acting-calm-but-a-tower-of-rage-inside that sane people still spot and run away from as fast as they can, even when it's a nice person in that state of mind.

Harry stumbled, hand raising instinctively to his scar, as the vision rose up, unbidden, in his mind.

He vaguely felt arms catch him as he fell, before completely losing track of the world around him, and now all he saw was through Voldemort's mind.

x x x

Fenrir Greyback had escaped. A werewolf-proof cell was not necessarily human-proof, and he had found the weakness in his prison. Now he was returning to the Dark Lord.

He had no choice. He had been warned not to expect kindness, but he needed the Dark Lord. He could certainly survive as a fugitive, with his pack hidden in the wilds, scavenging and stealing as they had always done... but he wanted power, and to gain that he needed one with the Dark Lord's loose morals to rule the wizarding world. One to let him do as he pleased, and take who he pleased.

Not only that, but he needed that ruler's favour.

So he returned on bended knee. He would grovel and he would serve, in order to gain his freedom.

"Well look what the cat dragged in." the Dark Lord sneered in disgust, "You failed me, Fenrir."

"I seek only the chance to fight and kill in your name, My Lord." he answered... close to meek as he got, but it still came out as a growl.

"Do not expect forgiveness." the Dark Lord hissed, "And do not expect to redeem yourself. You are an animal, you will lead your fellow beasts into battle, and you will understand that you are expendable... or I shall kill you myself. Is that clear, Fenrir?"

"Yes, My Lord." he answered through gritted teeth.

Fail, and be an exile, whoever wins. Help the Dark Lord win and have at least some legitimate connection to the ruling powers. To his mind there was no other option. He knew no so-called civilised leadership would do any better than try to either lock him up or kill him.

He didn't have to like it, but he really had no other choice.

"Then gather your... 'pack' and head for Hogwarts. You will wait outside the forest for my signal, and if necessary, then and _only then_ will you attack."

Hogwarts? Well, he supposed there were worse places to be set loose.

Voldemort saw the look in his eyes and answered his very thoughts coldly, "If even one pure-blooded student is harmed by you or any of your 'pack', their suffering will be visited upon you personally. Do as you like to the rebels, but I value the potential power of the next generation of wizard-kind far before your twisted desires."

Fenrir wanted to say something very insulting about that. The Dark Lord called _him_ twisted? Who kept score of that concept, exactly? But kept his gaze lowered and his mouth shut, simply answering, "I understand, My Lord."

"Good." the Dark Lord snapped, "Now get out of my sight."

Fenrir didn't dare wait to be told twice.

x x x

Harry blinked and shook his head, finally realising who was holding him. It was John Hart.

"You know... I've suddenly decided you're not so bad." he announced, to Hermione's shock and Ron's horror. "Still won't let you kiss me... but seeing through a sociopathic telepath's eyes while interrogating a paedophile werewolf kind of puts things in perspective." he shuddered at the memory.

"I thought your lot captured Greyback?" Hart asked, surprised.

"He escaped." Harry said bluntly, "Riddle didn't seem interested in the details... but it looks like he's planning a siege, and the werewolves are cannon-fodder."

"I'll see if I can conjure up a cannon big enough to get them into orbit, shall I?" Hart offered with a smirk.

Harry looked up at him blandly, "If you think the symbolism would impress me, you're sorely mistaken."

Hart laughed, "I like you better when your faith in humanity is shaken. The morbid attitude suits you."

"I'm still not going to let you kiss me." Harry said flatly, pulling out of Hart's embrace and standing up under his own power. "We have to get to Hogwarts. We have to stop him."

Hart smirked, "Right behind you."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You wish."

x x x


	131. We Need To Talk

x x x

**Chapter 131: We Need To Talk**

x x x

John would swear, if he didn't know better, that Jack had told Harry Potter the rules.

He did know better, of course. He wasn't a Legilimens, he just knew Jack wouldn't do that when the odds had been so strongly against Harry ever even meeting John. Still, no kissing, making John walk ahead so they could make sure he wasn't going to curse them when they turned their backs. The three of them were perfectly paranoid... which, from a bunch of- at least according to historical records- notoriously stereotypical Gryffindors, was kind of unsettling.

Okay, bushy hair and nice tits was documented to have had Ravenclaw leanings... but Ravenclaws weren't generally this paranoid, either.

The world of magic had received a pretty nasty shock after the first serious alien invasion in the early twenty-first century, and since then had been evolving and developing new ways to counter and compete with technology, both of Earth origin and not. John knew spells that wouldn't even exist for thousands of years. They weren't any more powerful, they were just different. Ways of looking at the world that hadn't been considered yet.

His particular skill was in Time Magic, a specialised branch of magic developed in the mid-to-late twenty-first century, after the American Association of Wizards (John had tried to go back to the time of their founding and suggest the name 'American Society of Sorcery', but the Agency had stopped him) got their hands on a piece of Dalek technology. Suddenly they realised Time Turners were actually quite limited and weak, and set about doing it better.

Yes, John's magical prowess was based on reverse-engineered Dalek technology. He knew perfectly well that this was ironic, and should terrify the sane. He couldn't wait to tell Jack.

Right now, however, he was using a kind of scrying spell to see distortions in the ambient magic. It didn't detect spells, so much as their side-effects... and more importantly it was passive magic, rather than the active magic most contemporary detection spells looked for.

And just as he reached the edge of Hogsmeade, he stopped in his tracks, holding a hand out to stop Ron from wandering on past him.

"We won't be going that way." John said simply, glancing up towards a less-beaten path up into the Forbidden Forest, "We want to avoid the proximity alarms. And you were just about to walk right through one."

Ron pulled an irritated face, "How'd you know?"

"Magic." John answered dismissively.

Hermione took a deep breath and worked up the nerve to announce, "I don't actually care how horrific the explanation is... how can you tell? What sort of spells are you using? Where did you learn them, and can you teach us?"

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron protested.

John grinned, "Part of me wants to say my magical powers are derived solely from an active sex-life... but that would be a half-truth."

Harry sighed, "He actually warned us, you know, Hermione."

"You asked if I was related to Jack." John said idly, turning and wandering up the path, so they had no choice but to follow if they actually wanted to hear, "Do you know where he's from?"

"The future." Ron blurted out tactlessly.

"When?" John asked with a smirking glance over his shoulder.

"About ten years from now." Hermione announced, her confidence probably inspired by John's lack of surprise at Ron's answer.

"No..." Harry said softly, "He's originally from about three thousand years in the future. He just got brought here from ten years in the future."

"Tuning out now." Ron announced with the tone of one who considers intricate detail a thing only other people should ever do.

"I'm also from three thousand years in the future." John said simply, "Now Jack was- what's the contemporary word for it? A Muggle? Before he came here. I have always been magic."

"Double meanings... stop using them." Harry commanded flatly.

John laughed, but dismissed that remark easily enough with a shake of his head, "You can't really believe that in three thousand years nobody came up with any new kinds of magic? The oldest spells are always the strongest, but we haven't gotten any weaker since your time. We've just learned to adapt." He hesitated, stopping walking right outside the edge of the Forest, and staring at the traces of magic directly in front of him, "Ah, now this is interesting. Not your usual kind of alarm system, for this era... but I should be able to bypass it given time."

"How long?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Ten minutes, maybe?" John offered.

Harry nodded, "Well what are you waiting for? You know we can't afford to get caught. Do it."

x x x

"So you're telling me you don't even know why you came here, except the evil magic crystal told your machines to tell you to?" Alexander Smith asked sceptically, "Gods, listen to me, I've spent too much time around Harper!"

"It probably didn't help when his girlfriend sent him a magic-safe television and half a dozen videos." Theodore Nott put in brightly.

"Yeah... The Terminator _did_ influence my choice of wording." Alex conceded.

They were gathered in the Room of Requirement, along with almost the entire school's student body. Literally only Death Eaters remained in the main body of the building, and the Room had simply expanded to accommodate them all as they had needed it. Right now there was an open space in the middle of the room around a large round wooden table where Jack, Gwen, Tosh, Ianto, Owen and Draco were standing, surrounded by everyone else, with the seventh years closest, and the rest squeezing in where they could find space.

"The crystal's not evil." Jack insisted, leaning forward on the table. The object in question sat squarely in the centre of it.

"Your jewellery is." Ianto offered with some amusement, "You know, I'm sure there's something up with that necklace, the more I think about it. Maybe we should scan it for blood magic if we get the time?"

Jack rolled his eyes, "Look, if I interpreted the situation correctly, I actually know exactly who sent the crystal to us. I even know how... just not why. And she is definitely not evil."

"She?" Draco just had to ask.

"Longer story than I feel like telling right now." Jack told him bluntly, "The point is, we need to figure out what is going to happen here before it's too late. Because the crystal definitely did tell us that something big will happen before it activates."

"I think it's probably got something to do with the fact Voldemort is on the warpath and headed this way." Harry Potter's voice called from the back of the room. The door that led down to the Chamber of Secrets stood open, and just inside that doorway stood Harry, Ron, Hermione, Griphook... John Hart... and perched on Harry's shoulder was Fawkes the phoenix.

Silence echoed in the room for a long moment. It was Ginny Weasley who finally shattered the tension with a joyful shout, "Harry!"

She raced over and positively pounced on him, dislodging a disgruntled Fawkes, and hugging Harry so hard it was a surprising he didn't suffocate, especially when she then proceeded to kiss him for several long seconds, as well.

John opened his mouth with the clear intention of commenting on this, but Ianto was quicker, "Silencio."

John glared petulantly, even as Fawkes landed on his shoulder for want of a better perch. John now reached up to pet the phoenix a bit too intently, and was promptly bitten for his trouble.

"Wow, where are we?" Ron asked, looking around, blissfully- or deliberately- oblivious to his little sister's behaviour.

"Room of Requirement, of course!" Neville answered cheerfully.

"When we decided we'd outstayed our welcome-" Owen began, only to be interrupted by Derrin Harper.

"You mean when the Carrows decided you had outlived your usefulness?"

Owen scowled, but continued undeterred, "We figured this was the safest place for a hideout. Not unreasonable given we'd done it before with Draco living in here. I showed up and it looked like this snapshot out of Disney's Peter Pan." he held his hands out to gesture expansively to the hammocks and hangings in school colours around him.

"Well, it wasn't exactly like this when we arrived." Neville countered, "It was a load smaller, there was only three hammocks and just Gryffindor hangings. But it's expanded as more and more of the D.A. have arrived."

"We?" Ron had to ask.

"Me, Owen and Ginny." Neville explained, "Owen was first, Ginny and I decided to disappear soon after the marmalade incident."

Ianto glanced at Owen, "Marmalade?"

"It was brilliant, you should have seen Alecto!" Owen crowed malevolently.

"And the Carrows can't get in?" Harry asked warily.

"No." Seamus Finnigan announced excitedly, "It's a proper hideout, as long as one of us stays in here, they can't get at us, the door won't open. It's all down to Neville. He really gets this room. You've got to ask it for exactly what you need- like, 'I don't want any Carrow supporters to be able to get in'- and it'll do it for you! You've just got to make sure you close the loopholes! Neville's the man!"

"It's quite straightforward, really." Neville said with a shrug, "I got a few pointers when Malfoy was living here, and Jack showed us how to make secret passageways."

"To be fair, that was an accident." Jack said cheekily, "I just really wanted back into the Gryffindor girls' dorms."

"See, _this_ is where I can tell he's lying." Ianto muttered to Gwen, "When I was actually _there with him_ for the story he's lying about. We went to the Chamber of Secrets first."

"We'd been in here about a day and a half, and getting really hungry." Neville explained, "And I was wishing I could get something to eat, and that's when a passage to the Hog's Head opened up. I went through it and met Aberforth. He's been providing us with food, because for some reason, that's the one thing the room doesn't really do."

"Yeah, well, food's one of the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration." Ron said too-idly.

"So we've been hiding out here for nearly two weeks," Seamus concluded, "And it just makes more hammocks every time we need them, and it even sprouted a pretty good bathroom once girls started turning up-"

"And thought they'd quite like to wash, yes." Lavender Brown announced with an indignant sniff.

"Tell us what you've been up to, though," said Ernie. "There've been so many rumours, we've been trying to keep up with you on Potterwatch." He indicated the wizarding wireless radio, "You didn't break into Gringotts?"

"We did." Ron said with glee.

"And the dragon? Is that part true, as well?" Ernie asked.

"What have you heard?" Harry asked sceptically, shooting a worried glance at a still-silenced John.

"You went and blasted out of there on the back of a dragon." Ernie exclaimed, "Totally blew apart half of London and the Statute of Secrecy with it!"

Harry shook his head, "No, we-" but then he cringed and turned his back.

Ron took over with only a brief worried glance at his friend as Hermione checked on Harry properly, "We did ride a dragon, mate, but we only blasted apart one building. Dunno about Muggles spotting us, but... well how couldn't they?"

"It is mandatory to have disillusionment charms on all magical creatures living within Muggle-populated areas." Ianto observed, "Though whether Gringotts felt the need to adhere to this law or not is another matter, as they _are_ underground."

Ianto glanced to Griphook who shrugged dismissively, "The dragons were never expected to see the light of day, there was no reason to disillusion them, and the Ministry never attempted to enforce it."

"Harry?" Jack asked, at his side in seconds. Neville wasn't far behind, and almost all the students around them looked concerned to one level or another.

"He's getting a bit upset now, I think." Harry laughed shakily, "Knows I took the Cup, and just realised one of the others is gone as well."

"You also used his name... you do realise that, right?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, not really expecting him to find us in here, though, are we?" Neville asked.

"He'll know someone here said it, and I haven't heard anyone else in this school do so since they set it Taboo." Owen observed, "Bunch of bloody cowards, we all are, and all."

"Good, let him come for me." Harry said simply, "I'm supposed to be the only one who can stop him, right?"

"If you believe every prophecy you hear." Hermione sniffed.

At this point, John tapped Jack's shoulder. Jack gave him a very irritated look. But then he recognised the expression on John's face. It was his 'I have information vital to the mission, and I can't talk about it here' look.

"Ianto... remove the silencing spell, please." Jack said slowly.

With evident reluctance, Ianto did so. John immediately and unceremoniously announced, "We need to talk."

x x x

Jack insisted Ianto accompany them as he and John went off to a private side-room conjured by the Room of Requirement. Ianto was more than grateful for this... he might actually have cursed John to pieces if he had been left alone with Jack, after the last time that had happened.

"Well this is hardly fair, every time I see you, you look younger!" John taunted at Jack.

Jack rolled his eyes, "You've gained weight." was the first insult he could think of. It seemed true, though it was relatively hard to judge when you're a foot shorter than you were the last time you saw the person you're evaluating.

"I remember when you were really this age." John smirked.

Jack glared, positively threatening, "Want me to act like it?" he asked dangerously.

John's eyes did flash with what looked a lot like fear, before he quickly answered, "No, that's not what I meant at all."

"Look, just tell us what you needed to tell us, and we can get back to plotting to kill the Dark Lord." Ianto said with the perfectly matter-of-fact business-like tone he liked to use around UNIT when they dare leave their new recruits in the company of Torchwood personnel.

John rolled his eyes and sighed, deflated at the sudden seriousness, "Fine. Your pet Dark Lord is an idiot who doesn't understand the function of a Horcrux only being valuable if you put it in a _non-perishable_ object, hence the snake... and Harry Potter. Though I did hear that one was an accident."

"How do you know about that?" Jack asked coldly.

"History book." John shrugged, "You should try it some time, especially given your former profession."

"There has to be a way around it." Jack insisted.

"There's only seven ways to destroy a Horcrux, and they're all fatal to humans. Pick one." John said coldly.

"Seven?" Ianto asked dubiously. "I've only heard of five."

"High-grade plasma lasers- proper planet-crackers- will do the job. Your parent organisation in London has one. Also, anything that generates a point-singularity, like a nova bomb or a negative mass enchantment." John answered dismissively, "Jack would survive it... Harry wouldn't."

Ianto blinked, suddenly realising something, "You've known all along that Jack was immortal... but it's protected by the Fidelius, and I never told you."

John smirked, "You will tell me... at some point in your future."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Sometimes... I really hate time travel."

Jack laughed half-heartedly, "It's an acquired taste." he then turned on John, "You also know about Torchwood London?"

"I've been stuck here for four years and you think I didn't do any research during that time? Do you remember nothing about those two weeks we were married?"

"I remember by the end of it you were worse than the guy from Groundhog Day. Knew _everyone_ in town on a very personal level."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Why am I not surprised?"

"So we're all agreed then?" John asked, "Potter needs to be disenhorcruxed?"

"Is that even a word?" Ianto muttered.

"So all this time, the poor kid is just meant to be a human sacrifice?" Jack asked coldly.

"There's one option that isn't... fatal... per se." John shrugged.

"Dementors? Yes, because that's so much better." Jack snarled with deepest sarcasm.

"There are ways to reason with them... usually involving direct forms of mind-control, but still." John suggested, getting a bit defensive now.

"I wouldn't go for it." Ianto said simply, "It's dangerous enough when he tries to kiss you himself, without him mind-controlling a Dementor."

"The history I read says that Harry Potter _did_ die tonight, in order to permanently destroy the Dark Lord." John explained slowly, "Anything short of destroying the Horcrux in him will only be a temporary victory. If he is left with any option to come back, he will seek it tirelessly. Believe me, I have been trying to think of a way around this, too... but we have to accept there isn't one."

"We can't let him die..." Jack said, sounding like he _knew_ he was losing the argument.

"Oh no... you've gone and gotten attached again?" John said with exasperation, "You remember what happened with the Princess of Trallia? You cried like a baby for weeks after she realised she had to die, and by then it was a waste anyway, too late to save the planet. And at least that didn't have repercussions that could _prevent either of us from being born!_ If you just accept it now, we won't have a bloody problem!"

"Born?" Jack snorted, "Everyone knows you were spawned fully grown from a hybrid of demonology and genetic engineering."

"Who told you about the demonology?" John laughed, mocking now, "That's a violation of the Statute of Secrecy!"

Both former Time Agents were laughing now, and Ianto wasn't quite sure how to take it. He liked that Jack seemed to be in a good mood, but the cause for said good mood was dubious at best. And they didn't really have time for this, anyway, "Jack... if he's telling the truth..."

"Not an assumption you should ever make." Jack observed.

John snorted, "I tell the truth quite often... I just make a habit of only doing it when it's entirely unbelievable."

"Even if it is true." Jack growled, "And I'm sure it is, because Dumbledore said the same thing-"

"You trust _him_ over me?" John asked, indignantly horrified, "Have you _seen_ his track-record?"

"Even if it is true." Jack repeated, harshly ignoring John's protest, "We can at least stop Voldemort today and figure out a way to make it permanent once everyone- _everyone_-" he glowered at John to emphasise his inclusion of Harry in this statement, "Is safe."

John sighed, "I don't like this. You're deviating from the original timeline, and you don't know if it will work. You're just acting on that paternal instinct you like to deny you have, and you know it."

Jack glared back at him defiantly, "It _will_ work. I will make it work."

John smirked faintly, "I hope you're right... because you know how bad I am at winning arguments with you."

"So that's settled then." Jack announced, turning and stalking back into the main Room of Requirement.

Ianto glanced sideways at John, "Why are you wearing concealment charms?" he asked bluntly. He had noticed it the moment the three of them had been alone together, but he was fairly sure Jack hadn't spotted it. It was _very_ hard to see that kind of magical energy, and took a certain type of person rather than any level of magical power.

John hesitated, and the look he gave Ianto was positively frightening. Not malevolent, just far too thoughtful. "I'm not hiding more weapons than usual, if that's what you're asking."

"It wasn't." Ianto said sharply.

John shrugged, "Well it's all the answer you're getting."

"I still hate you." Ianto said sharply.

John grinned, "So... do we have time to go get Jack for a threesome, before the war breaks out?"

x x x


	132. It Begins

x x x

**Chapter 132: It Begins**

x x x

Harry watched Jack, Ianto, and John leave to discuss... he was sure he didn't want to know what, though he got the feeling it was actually important in some way whether he wanted to know or not. He wasn't sure what to do now. Yes, he knew what Voldemort was going to do... but he didn't know what he was going to do about it.

"What are we going to do, then, Harry?" Seamus asked eagerly, "What's the plan?"

"He's going to come to Hogwarts." Harry said carefully, "He'll come here looking for... something that isn't here anymore. If he finds out it's gone..." he hesitated. He couldn't quite find the words for just how incredibly angry Voldemort already was, and if he got to Hogwarts and found the diadem missing as well... well, there hadn't been any survivors when he found out about the Cup, and those had been his own sycophantic servants.

"So what do we do?" Seamus insisted.

"It's not that simple." Harry said. Inside he was positively shaking with the effort of keeping Voldemort's anger out of his own mind. It took all his strength not to shout that he had no idea what to do, there was no plan, but he couldn't tell them that. He had to do something... but he didn't know what.

Thankfully he was interrupted by another door opening. This one seemed to have just appeared in the wall to his right, and from it emerged Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas. "We got your message, Neville!" Dean announced, grinning from ear to ear, "Hello you three, I thought you must be here!"

Seamus cheered loudly, as he hugged his friend. Luna smiled serenely around the room, "Hi, everyone!" she chirped brightly, "Oh, it's great to be back!"

"Luna? What are you doing here? How did you-?"

"I sent for her." Neville explained, holding up the fake Galleon the D.A. had used to communicate during Harry's fifth year, "I promised her that if you turned up I'd let her know. We all thought that if you came back, it would mean revolution. That we were going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows."

"Of course that's what it means." Luna answered, before Harry could think what to say, "Isn't it, Harry? We're going to fight them out of Hogwarts?"

"So what's the plan, Harry?" a Weasley twin called out from where the two of them were perched on a table to see over the crowd.

"Yes, just because boy-wonder is here, we can all start the revolution in earnest." Owen Harper crowed from near the table, "Because what we've been doing up until now was totally _not_ our best effort, and he's totally got a chance against an army of Death Eaters with or without a bunch of school-kids to back him up!"

The Weasley twins looked at each other, then back to Owen, "That wasn't our best effort." one announced.

"That was maintenance." the other agreed.

Owen shrugged, "Yeah." he conceded, seemingly honestly. The rest of the students did appear frightened by this, "If the Carrows wanted to see me get really angry they shoulda hexed a first-year or two."

"So that's the revolution covered." Gwen said with a shaky laugh, "Just set those three loose."

"No." Jack said firmly, standing at the far end of the room, in front of the blank wall where a door had been moments ago. "We are _not_ sending a bunch of children into a war. Yes, Voldemort will probably bring the war down upon us, but none of you are ready for it."

"And I suppose you think you are?" Ernie Macmillan demanded sceptically.

Jack smiled coldly at him, "Hi. My name is Captain Jack Harkness. I'm a time traveller from the year five-thousand and seventy-nine. I'm one hundred and eighty-six years old. I've fought in more wars than any wizard alive today. I've saved this planet from worse nightmares than even Voldemort could imagine. And this isn't some Christmas special where the underdogs are guaranteed to win... this is real life, and the best thing anyone who doesn't already have first-hand experience in combat with Death Eaters can do is to hide and save yourselves."

"But-" Colin Creevey began. Jack turned on him so fast it was terrifying.

"No." Jack snapped at him, "You do not know what they are like. No amount of training and preparation can make you ready to stand on the front lines. Everything the D.A. taught you all was self-defence as a last resort."

"Jack... calm down." John murmured, barely audible at this distance, "Now is a very bad time to go back to when you were ten."

Jack laughed coldly, and turned on John, "You know me too well. Fair point. But they should all stay here. It's-"

"They should make their own choices." John said bluntly, "They just need to be able to understand what they're choosing. Shame this century doesn't work the way ours does, it would be easy."

Harry noticed Jack rub his left wrist, just under the wrist-strap, as he considered that. It was far too low to be a Dark Mark, but it was obvious there was some real physical connection to what John had just said. "We don't have time for that now."

John scoffed, "As if you'd be qualified to make the judgements, anyway. Even if you had a photographic memory, you're still too emotionally involved."

The group had kind of shifted over to the table- or the table had come to them, with this room it was hard to tell- and everyone was gathered around Harry now.

Harry sighed, "Nobody fourth year or below should have to fight for their lives like this. I can say this from experience, having done exactly that. I can't argue against fifth and sixth years, because of Jack... doesn't mean I think it's a good idea."

"Why is he staring at me like that?" Colin Creevey suddenly demanded. He was watching John warily, and true enough John had been eyeing him in a very calculating way.

"You really don't want to ask that." Jack said dismissively, "And I don't want to ask _why_ you don't want to ask."

"What's that mean?" Owen asked sceptically.

"It means your first assumption from having met me is the less likely of the two reasons I could choose to stare at an underage Gryffindor." John smirked.

Ianto rolled his eyes and sighed, "You've read the history books."

"Yes, I have." John said with an evil grin at Creevey.

Jack was glaring at the table so intensely now that it was somewhat surprising it hadn't been set on fire yet, grinding his teeth in a way that made it look very much like he wanted to say something very offensive about John. Considering the hour or so Harry had known the man, seemed like it would be quite a challenge to insult him, but still.

"Would you care to name someone who _is_ meant to live through this day?" Jack growled darkly, glaring up at John.

"You." John smirked right back at him. Jack's glare doubled in intensity, and John quickly added, "Well, history isn't set in stone. Just because the version I've heard involved Colin Creevey getting jumped by three Death Eaters who cursed him to death with torture spells because he left this room in search of typical Gryffindor glory... doesn't mean it has to happen that way this time around."

"Meep." Colin positively squeaked in horror.

Jack scowled, "The only time I can tell when he's telling the truth is when he says things like that. The part about the torture curses, not the part about it being possible to change events... although it _is_ possible to change the past."

Ianto's lip twitched, "He just wasn't taking enough malevolent glee at the expense of others, when he said it, for you to be sure."

Jack laughed bitterly, "Now you're getting it."

"See?" John grinned at Jack, "I won't hurt your boyfriend."

Ianto looked up at him with a completely blank and earnest expression, "You mean you won't succeed."

John's grin widened, "Yes, that is what I meant."

"That's disgusting." Ron muttered.

"I hate agreeing with you, Weasley." Draco said with a bit of a sulk.

"Look." Harry said with determination, "The purpose of this room hasn't changed since you started using it to hide from the Carrows. It's to protect people, keep you all safe."

"Potter's right." Alexander Smith, a Slytherin fifth year, agreed, "They always say Hogwarts is the safest place to hide anything. It's not because of basements guarded by three-headed dogs, chambers of secrets, or even the wards around the grounds. It's because we've got a flacking fallout shelter on the seventh floor."

"I'm seeing the flaw in that plan, where we're on the _seventh_ floor." Owen observed, "If someone properly blew up the castle, that wouldn't much help, would it?"

Alex grinned at him, "You just don't read, do you?" Ianto snickered at this, but Alex continued regardless, "The Room of Requirement is the Heart of Hogwarts."

"He's right, Harry." Fred Weasley put in.

"And this is all Ianto's fault." George continued.

"He had us all read Hogwarts: A History." Fred explained.

"Under threat of siccing Owen on us." George added.

"Oh, you're good." John grinned at Ianto.

"Down, boy." Jack chided him.

"Remember when our dad told Ginny-" Fred started again, as if they hadn't been interrupted.

"Never trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain?" George finished the question.

"Well this room-" Fred explained.

"Is where Hogwarts keeps its brain."

"And heart."

"And soul."

"Assuming of course-"

"-that sentient stonework has souls."

"We reckon it probably does." Fred and George both said the last line together, just to be doubly disconcerting.

"I knew a ship like that." Jack put in wistfully, "Lovely panelling, bit overprotective of her designated driver, though."

"Don't ships have captains?" Luna asked.

"Not this one." Jack smiled distantly, "This one just had a Doctor."

"Oh, not even a pilot?" Luna asked.

"She piloted herself."

"And took the Doctor where he was needed?" Luna surmised a bit too astutely.

"I never said he." Jack said, his smile slightly forced, and definitely calculating.

"The point is." Alex said through gritted teeth, clearly displeased at his very Bond-villain monologue being interrupted, "This room is so magically powerful, the history says it is where the main wards around the castle originate. If the room wants to it can basically do almost anything, including keep out absolutely any army."

"Pray you don't ever have to test that theory." Ianto muttered, "I can name a couple of armies that make Voldemort's rag-tag bunch look like children playing with matches." Jack put an arm around Ianto's shoulders in a distinctly comforting and protective way, which told more about that seemingly off-hand reference than any words could.

Meanwhile, John was staring at Fawkes entirely too intently. Harry decided it was just best if he didn't ask.

"You're right, Alex." Jack said after a moment, "We need someone who can put that power to its best use, to stay in this room with the younger students, and make sure the room is entirely impenetrable."

"The simple wish to keep everything out should be enough." Alex offered defensively.

Jack chuckled, "Why settle for 'enough' when you can have amazing? Tosh."

Tosh jumped, "Yes...?"

"I'd like you to think about what you would do, given unlimited time and resources, to thoroughly protect a room. Absolutely every level of defence your brilliant mind can think of. Then Neville will show you how to make it happen in seconds."

Tosh's eyes lit up at this, "But I-" she said, amazed.

"Yes, turning sweet little girls into gods... you just can't get enough of that, can you, Jack?" John taunted.

Jack stared at him, "Where did you hear about that?"

"Now that would be telling." John grinned.

"Well I think it's a brilliant idea." Owen announced, "Her scientific genius plugged into Hogwarts defence systems. Death Eaters wouldn't stand a chance. She could probably transfigure the walls into something... uh..."

"Pyrovillite." Tosh said with confidence and a gleeful light in her eyes at the prospect of what she was going to do, "Torchwood One had a sample, we salvaged it. Even Dalek lasers can't cut it... and yes, Torchwood One did test that."

"And I really wish I didn't know the details of how." Ianto muttered darkly. Jack hugged him just a little tighter at that... still protective rather than anything else.

"I also have a little project I was working on before we... came to Hogwarts." Tosh added brightly, "It's KIND of a shield."

"Go for it." Jack encouraged eagerly, "Anything you know won't harm those inside."

"So try not to make it completely air-tight." Owen suggested glibly, "Oxygen is one of those Gamp's Law things, too."

"I do know that, thanks Owen." Tosh said coolly.

"Who else is out in the main castle?" Harry asked.

"Just the teachers and the real Death Eater wannabies." Owen said with a shrug, "Except Slughorn. He bailed and vanished a while back. We know he's safe, because he keeps in communication with Shacklebolt, but we have no clue where he went to ground."

"How do we communicate with the teachers?" Jack asked, "I can't imagine McGonagall or Flitwick are too happy with the current management."

"Flitwick's been teaching Charms as if we just relocated his classroom." Owen explained with great cheer, "Neville gave him one of our D.A. coins a while back, so he could schedule classes without making extra trips to the top secret location. He can get the rest. Honestly, everyone but the Carrows is on our side."

"What about Snape?" Ron asked.

Owen repeated simply, "Everyone except the Carrows is on our side. Seriously, he caught me red-handed one time- literally, I was paint-bombing at the time-"

"You do love to exaggerate and embellish." Ianto teased.

"-and he just let me go with a warning not to get caught." Owen shrugged, "Made it perfectly clear which side he was really on; protecting the innocent, even if that meant acting the bad guy to get intel on _how_ to see the kids don't get hurt."

This wasn't new information- Dumbledore had always been quite determined that Snape was an ally, and the last time Harry had seen Snape... well.

Still, it was a bit of a shock to hear someone as bloody cynical as Owen Harper state this kind of thing with such certainty.

Ron looked ready to argue about Snape, but just at that moment Harry's world erupted in a wave of rage and fear.

_Voldemort knew the Ring was gone. He knew the Cup was gone. He knew the Diary was gone. He knew the Locket was gone. He knew Nagini was gone._

_The Diadem should be in Hogwarts._

_He was on his way... and anything that dared attempt to impede him would suffer for it._

x x x

Ron and Hermione were at Harry's side in an instant. Jack watched with a pained expression, for a moment, before turning to Tosh, "Try to install some psychic shields as well, yeah?"

Neville guided her to a corner, where he proceeded to talk her through the room's functionality.

"So we just hide in the room?" Draco asked quietly, "Seems a bit unhelpful. As Harper said, the room can't break Gamp's Law of Transmutation. Worst comes to worst, they could just starve us out."

"They have to find the room first." Ianto observed.

"And we are going to fight them." Jack announced, "Hate to say this, but wave a bunch of rebels and big damned heroes in their faces, the bad guys usually ignore the civilians as long as said civilians stay out of the way."

"You hate to say it?" Draco asked sceptically, "Is this because I'm on your 'big damned heroes' list, or is it because you care about Golden Boy over there?"

"Both?" Jack offered, smirking weakly.

"Lovely." Draco sneered, "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, I'll help you fight as long as it looks like you have a chance... but if at any point it looks like I'm in real and immediate danger, I _will_ desert. I won't defect, if that makes you feel better... but I will not die for you."

Jack smiled. A _real_ smile. "Good. See that you don't."

"Everyone close your eyes!" Neville called out.

Jack laughed nervously, "I hate this part." he winked at Draco, who shuddered at the memory of the story Jack had told him about monsters that only moved when you didn't look.

Very reluctantly, he closed his eyes all the same.

"And you can open them again!" Neville announced.

The grey stone walls of the room had shifted form into a shiny black metallic material. The lighting had increased to compensate for the fact the walls practically devoured it, steeped in such darkness it was downright eerie. The only light on the walls themselves were crackles of blue, which looked like some kind of shield spell.

"I'll need to stay here to run maintenance, but we are now apocalypse-proof." Tosh announced with a smile that was terrifying for how sweet and innocent it looked on what, to all intents and purposes, was a demi-god as long as she stayed in this room. "I can do more... but it will take time. Once you leave, I'll activate the Time Lock, and enable some more active defences... just in case." And still the creepy smile.

Jack gave her a very strange look at the words 'Time Lock', but then shook his head and turned back to where Harry was catching his breath. "I really need something like Magneto's helmet." Harry muttered.

"Who's Magneto?" Draco asked.

"_No!_" Alex yelled, "Do not ask that kind of thing in Owen Bloody Harper's presence! You know what happened the time someone mentioned Jean Grey!"

Draco stared, "He went on a six hour rant about the Order of the Phoenix, Jack's surname, and conspiracy theories... yes, someone please silence him before he goes off again."

Ianto raised his wand threateningly, and Owen raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I won't... I promise." he mumbled, biting his lip to avoid either launching on a rant, or laughing... it was unclear which.

"We have a problem, people..." Harry said, his tone soft but commanding in a way that drew everyone's attention regardless. "He's on his way here, and he is _angry_. It's good that Tosh is protecting this room... but someone needs to protect the castle."

"I can protect myself, thanks." Tosh said, her voice slightly echoing. When everyone looked at her, she smiled serenely. Her eyes sparkling with vivid blue and white light, "But I appreciate the help."

"What the- Tosh?" Owen asked warily.

"It's okay, Owen. I couldn't be in safer hands."

Jack grinned, "You know, I've heard stories..."

"I am a child compared to her... but she is... an inspiration." Tosh looked him right in the eyes, "And yes, I can read your minds."

Tosh's eyes suddenly snapped to John, and he cringed as if physically struck. "Sorry!" he all but whined.

"Come on, we don't have much time." Jack said, ushering Owen back to the table where those ready to fight were gathered.

"But- Tosh!" Owen protested.

"Trust me, she's far safer than the rest of us are about to be." Jack promised.

"I've contacted Professor Flitwick, Harry." Luna offered brightly.

Harry nodded his head, "Come on, we've got to stop Voldemort."

"Go kick his ass." Tosh cheered with a laugh.

It was so very un-Tosh-like, and the thought that Hogwarts Castle thought in those terms... just made everyone who wasn't Owen laugh... and so it was that they left the room to fight for their lives and their world in high spirits.

x x x


	133. A Giant Problem

x x x

**Chapter: 133: A Giant Problem**

x x x

"Well, he's sure of himself." she announced calmly, before engaging in a rather comical impersonation of Voldemort's high-pitched voice, speaking a bit too fast as if she was in fact mimicking a sound file played at the wrong speed;

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

"Wow, he really wants you, huh?" John Hart said in an entirely too suggestive tone.

Harry stared at him for a second, "You need to shut up or leave. Seriously." he said, barely keeping the revulsion from his face, and certainly not keeping it from his voice.

"Did he honestly just say resistance is futile?" Owen snickered.

Only to be smacked upside the head by Ianto. "Shut up, Owen." he warned darkly. This only illicited more very poorly stifled snickering from the culprit.

"Where is he, anyway?" Jack asked Tosh.

"Just outside the gates. Shall I electrify them?" she offered cheerfully.

"Good idea." Hermione said, before anyone could think of any more snide remarks.

"Just use your initiative, Tosh." Jack said calmly, before looking around at everyone here. Just waiting to see if any of them would suggest accepting Voldemort's offer.

"There was never any question." Alex- who was apparently the unofficial leader of the Slytherin students since Jack had left- said simply, "With whatever you've gone and done with her, I don't think we can lose, and I would have been happy to see the Dark Lord fail even without the entire _castle_ on our side."

"We're with you." Millicent Bullstrode said firmly.

"All the way." Theodore Nott agreed, a faintly malevolent glint in his eyes as if he looked forward to seeing the Death Eaters- which, Harry recalled, included his own father- lose... and preferably lose spectacularly.

"So what's the plan?" Fred or George Weasley asked, both of them grinning eagerly.

Harry frowned at this, "Well... according to the Prophecy, I'm supposed to be the only one who can stop him. It says he marked me as his '_equal_' and I'm supposed to have some kind of '_power the Dark Lord knows not_'."

"Take it from an expert at dispensing bullshit prophecies for personal gain." John said, "The best ones are bullshit because you _want_ to misinterpret them, strangely more efficient than lying."

Jack rolled his eyes, "And what do you have to gain today?"

"Time not re-writing itself and preventing me from ever having existed." John shrugged, "That's about as personal as it gets... short of face-raping aliens kidnapping your baby brother."

Nobody saw Jack's hand move, but in an instant his wand was drawn and John had been thrown back into the wall by a blasting curse that surprised everyone by _not_ killing him outright. And it was followed up by, "_CRUCIO!_" for about twenty seconds.

Upon seeing Jack's rage, Owen promptly brandished the fork and offered, "Can I stab him?"

"Yes." Jack growled coldly.

"No." Harry said at the same time, "He's obviously an evil genius... we could use as many of those as we can get on our side."

"I wouldn't bet on the genius part..." Jack warned, "He's got a habit of deliberately infuriating powerful and dangerous people."

"And when you cast a stinging jinx on Bellatrix Lestrange's backside..." Neville asked sceptically, "That was what?"

"Flirting." Jack said simply.

Ianto helped John up from where he had crumpled to the floor, with a dark smile, "You've had that one coming a long time." he said, though his tone was conversational rather than threatening.

"I never can tell where the line between pissed off and homicidal is. I've pushed Jack over it a couple of times before, and all." John admitted with amusement.

"You're a masochist, aren't you?" Ianto asked.

"Yes." John chuckled.

Ianto rolled his eyes, "I'll make a note of that for later, then."

"Oh yes please, Eye Candy."

"Ianto... if you do... please leave permanent scars." Jack said coldly, "Otherwise I may get a bit upset with you."

"Also noted." Ianto agreed.

"And that's not disturbing at all." one of the Weasley twins muttered in awe.

"You should see them after a few pints." Owen said simply. The twins exchanged a Look of Horror, and did not comment further.

"Back to the plan." Alex said a bit to quickly, "The crazy person who pissed off Jack Harkness _and_ all his friends will be on the front line, with a brightly illuminated target painted on him. And you, Potter... will be...?"

"Same, without the neon bull's-eye. Voldemort wants to kill me... he'll have to come up here and get me."

x x x

Later that evening the invasion had, most inconveniently, begun while they had still been planning in the Room of Requirement. It had been Tosh who informed them of this, as her protection spells seemed to have blocked them from even noticing any form of disturbance outside the room.

Luckily, they had been in direct communication with Flitwick, at the time... having entirely dropped the concept of discretion from the messages they were sending him via the D.A. coin, and gone into long dialogues that covered the entire face of the shiny fake-gold coin with writing.

The teachers had coordinated a defence of the castle, and those few students who were willing- and hadn't been told gruesome ways they would die by John- and either this battle was historically utterly horrific or he had one hell of an imagination- had joined the teachers on the upper floors, in what Jack described as excellent sniper positions.

It had been about ten minutes when something truly shocking happened.

Loud rock music- Harry wasn't sure if it was Muggle or wizarding, he didn't recognise it either way- began to play from the direction of the front gates of the school, and from where he stood by the window just outside the Room of Requirement, he could see the gates, which had already been blasted open by the invading Death Eaters.

But now, rolling over the twisted metal like it was nothing... was a Muggle tank.

_A tank_.

Standing on top of this tank, in iconic green and gold Quidditch robes, with one foot up on the gun turret much like a general directing troops, was a tall black woman who Harry recognised as Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies. She held a broom in her left hand and a Beater's bat in her right... and at her feet sat a box that rattled in an ominous way.

A blast from the tank hit the ground just behind the Death Eaters, drawing the full attention of those few who hadn't yet noticed the music. As if the gunner had timed it on purpose, the music rose to a crescendo that felt at once both inspiring and terrifying, just as the blast fell.

And then Gwenog kicked the box and at least a dozen- probably more like two dozen, but it was hard to tell at this range- Bludgers flew out.

From behind the tank what looked like an equal number of witches in matching Harpy robes soared up and swooped after them. They most certainly weren't playing by usual Quidditch rules. This wasn't a game, this was war, and Harry saw the lead witch enchant her Bludger to aim right for a specific Death Eater, using the physical brute force of the Bludger to bring down his magical shield before throwing a volley of curses at him as well.

The airborne witches split off to the sides, leaving the middle ranks of the Death Eaters exposed for another shot from the tank.

Harry saw one Death Eater shout out orders, gesturing to the tank... and a group, which looked by their ragged clothing and nature to probably be werewolves, turned and charged it.

Gwenog shouted in return, and a roaring sound rose up over the music.

A group of another dozen or so- this time motorcycles instead of brooms- raced out past the tank, each with a passenger wielded gleaming bladed weapons. The blades looked silver, and given the context it would be foolish to imagine they weren't.

The riders looked just as ragged and feral as Voldmort's werewolf army... with the exception of the lead motorbike, which was driven by Sirius Black. This was the only one big enough to have two passengers, who looked a lot like Remus and Tonks. They were the only two of the ground assault using wands... and while the flashes of light from the front of Sirius' bike sure looked like automatic gunfire, that could have been magic as well.

Harry was shocked to see the second bike, which veered sharply towards the centre of the pack of charging werewolves, was being driven by Scabior... who laughed almost madly as the scrawny young woman on the bike behind him took a swing at the leader of their enemies with what looked like a machete.

Scabior then skidded around, kicking up dirt from the rear wheel of his bike, into the faces of several more of the werewolves. The girl whooped and leapt off her bike to lunge at them with the bladed weapon before they could recover.

"A little kindness and diplomacy works wonders, given the right circumstances." Jack said, right next to Harry, "Enemy of my enemy, and a promise of basic human rights when it's over. Just like the goblins."

"They're werewolves?" Harry asked, shocked. He had thought Remus was the exception. True, the werewolves on their side looked to be far fewer than Voldemort's horde, but there were still more than Harry had expected.

"Most of them, looks like." Jack said with a nod.

Harry gave him a suspicious look, "You knew about this?"

Jack grinned, "I knew about the tank... and Ianto mentioned the Harpies. You'd have to ask your godfather how the werewolves were persuaded to join us, but I bet it's a good story."

But then a rumbling from the direction of the lake caught their attention. Harry looked over and gasped, "They've got giants." Sure, we got a tank... but they brought _giants_.

Before Jack could even turn to look, Owen shouted loudly, "_Hoth!_" And so Jack looked to Owen instead.

Harry quickly glanced as well to see a manic glee in Owen's eyes. This did not bode well. "What's Hoth?" he asked.

"We need to educate you properly when this is over." Owen said in all seriousness. Not the lecherous way Jack or John would have said it, but a tone that implied he was apparently being oblivious to something incredibly significant. "But Jack... seriously... Hoth."

Jack's eyes lit up, and he nodded, "Accio." While whatever he had just summoned made its way to them, he turned on Ianto, "Ianto, you're so good at getting me interesting things... also, Transfiguration. Chains please?"

Ianto looked out at the approaching giants, "You'll need more than one."

"I'll come back."

"Will someone please tell me what you're talking about?" Harry demanded.

"Nope." Owen said, grinning, "You're going to watch."

Just then, Jack's broom- the Lightning Chaser- soared up to them from the lower level of the castle. Ianto rolled his eyes, "Do _not_ get stepped on." he commanded sternly, before conjuring up some very large chains which, judging by the way both he and Jack held them easily, probably didn't weigh very much at all. "Magically reinforced, can't get carbon nanotubes this strong." he added with no small degree of pride.

"Ianto Jones, you are fantastic." Jack grinned and kissed him- the quick urgent kind of kiss where you really have no time to waste but need to throw all your heart into it- before leaping onto the broom and soaring off.

The chain trailed behind him, slipping out longer as he flew down to the nearest Harpy. Harry heard the loud whistle from Jack to catch her attention, before he pulled level with her and called out. She took up the other end of the chain with obvious cheer, and the two together swooped down towards the nearest giant.

It was a perfectly synchronised performance, as they circled around the giant's legs in opposite directions, starting just below waist-high and circling lower, the Harpy ducking under Jack at each point they crossed paths. It only took four turns for the giant to lose its balance and fall backwards into the lake.

The pair soared up towards the window, Jack in the lead now, both whooping with delight. Jack pulled up next to Ianto and shouted out, "Reload!"

But the Harpy had beckoned one of her fellows over, "We'll take it from here, kid. Thanks for the tip." she said gleefully. The excitement of the battle seemed to positively thrill her.

"Half expected you to fly under her to try to see up her skirt." Owen muttered as Ianto conjured up another chain.

Jack looked affronted, "I don't always look." he said indignantly. Harry got the feeling he was lying through his teeth.

"I do." the Harpy laughed, taking the chain Ianto had conjured for them, "Ready, Kells?"

"Ready Ossy!" the other Harpy crowed.

And the two were off to take on the next giant.

"We can't stay up here." Jack said after only a moment, "They're at the door."

Sure enough, a group of Death Eaters who had been at the front of the attack and made it past the shields and sniped spells of the Order of the Phoenix, were now bombarding the main doors.

x x x

"You know, I would tell you a more convenient way to sneak in, without my having to lower the shields to let you through... but first you'd have to be within earshot, and second you wouldn't believe me." Tosh said with a bit of a sigh, as approximately half of the Order of the Phoenix trudged out of the tunnel from Hogsmeade.

'_I could tell them?_' a voice echoed in her mind. It was not audible to normal people, and she just _knew_ it came from the phoenix Animagus perched over the doorway.

'_Hmm, yeah. Should I make an over-protective parent joke now or later?_' the answer was more her own humour, but the Castle's sentiments.

'_If you want me to show you overprotective...?_'

'_You'd go out there and set fire to some Death Eaters?_'

'_Well... it beats sitting in a room with a majority preteen-Gryffindor demographic. Yes._'

'_I'm going to redirect traffic. The next lot can arrive in the Headmaster's Office- which you'll note has been Death Eater proof all year- and figure it out for themselves._'

'_Why didn't you think of that earlier?_'

'_Requires foresight. And most of mine was focused on... oh, they brought Dementors, that's not very nice of them. Maybe warn Jack? His Patronus will be strongest in the current scenario. I might have reminded him of something fun._'

'_Do I look like an owl to you?_'

'_A flaming one._'

'_Modern language... needs to be introduced to pyromania._'

Every student in the room was startled as Tosh suddenly burst out laughing.

x x x

"The door is held by the best protection spells the _Founders_ could come up with." Minerva McGonagall said sternly, glancing at the members of the D.A. around her. Neville Longbottom was in the lead, standing tall at the top of the stairs ready to attack whatever came through. Luna Lovegood, Gwen Cooper, Ginny and Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were all there as well... just waiting.

Slightly separate from the rest of them stood the strange man who had introduced himself lasciviously as John Hart, watching with the sort of idle disinterest that was either a very good lie or proof positive that he was a sociopath. "Founders. Right, yeah, they knew all the good stuff." he muttered sarcastically, before holding his hand up to the door, "Vicis Confuto."

The door shimmered gold and the impacts of the assault ceased to cause any visible movement in the wooden structure.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at this, but was by far the least confused. At least she knew her Latin well enough to comprehend the intention, if not the function of the spell. Unfortunately, much as she would like to understand the mechanics of it, now was not the time to ask.

The door wasn't shaking anymore, but the sound of the assault continued and John seemed to cringe just a little bit more with each hit it took. "Can't keep _that_ up for very long." he muttered, with a wince. "Better ideas?" he asked hopefully, looking around both the students and the teachers gathered there.

"Transfigure it into steel?" Ianto suggested, his tone somewhat offhand as if he didn't think that was really an entirely viable option.

"That suggestion has some merit." Minerva conceded.

"Wouldn't be nice when they do break through, though." John pointed out, "Hell of a lot more painful if it lands on you."

"So we stand back..." Gwen said as if it was perfectly obvious.

"Agreed." Minerva said calmly, "Mr Jones, Miss Granger, if you would assist me. Enchanted materials require far more power to transfigure when you do not remove the enchantments first... but with enough raw talent it can be done."

"I'm going to let go, then." John offered, "Otherwise it'll take you forever... and I do mean that literally, time magic is funny like that."

"Three..." Ianto said, raising his wand. Hermione and Minerva followed suit. It was unusual to see one so young so willing to lead... but Minerva certainly did not wish to discourage it, "Two... one."

The golden glow faded from the doors and the three transfiguration spells hit it simultaneously. It took several long seconds, during which half their efforts involved reinforcing the weak points as they were weakened, just as much as shifting the form of the material itself, but slowly the door began to transform from heavy enchanted oak into smooth, still magically reinforced, steel.

As the final touches of wood around the hinges shifted to metal, Hermione slumped against the stone railing next to her, "Wow..."

"That was quite tiring, yes." Minerva said, still holding on to her veneer of calm, "However, we have bought ourselves considerable time."

"I've had worse nights." Ianto muttered. John snorted, but Ianto just gave him a challenging look, "No, really, you try transfiguring enchanted objects sometime. Feels like someone's tried to crack my skull open with a baseball bat."

"At least it wasn't a buzz-saw." John taunted.

"You do realise, one of these days, I am going to kill you. Right?" Ianto told him simply... with such cold certainty that it truely felt more like a promise than a threat.

"Yeah, but not today, okay?" John dismissed, "I believe we have an army of inbred bigots to eviscerate."

"Eviscerate, incinerate..." Ianto said, before shaking his head suddenly, "No, I'm going to stop that list now."

"Wise move." John agreed with a falsely sage tone.

Minerva decided she really did not want to know.

x x x


	134. Voldemort Is Going Down

x x x

**Chapter 134: Voldemort Is Going Down**

x x x

"So... what happened to the Carrows, anyhow?" Neville asked, as the banging on the door suddenly felt a lot more futile. They felt safe, the Death Eaters weren't going to be getting in anytime soon.

"It appears I have acquired some new furniture in my office, Mr Longbottom." Professor McGonagall said, just a touch too idly, the ghost of a smile in her eyes.

"You transfigured them into-" Hermione started in shock.

"A temporary measure, until they can be properly contained." the teacher answered.

John Hart let out a low whistle, "I like it when good people do bad things like that." he smirked at McGonagall, "Just please tell me they're not chairs, because even I wouldn't want to be in that kind of proximity to those two."

Ianto snorted, "Didn't know _you_ had standards?"

"You'd be surprised." Hart said, even daring to pout as he added almost distantly, "Everyone assumes the worst of me..." but then the self-assured smirk returned and he joked brazenly, "Can't imagine why."

"First day I met you, you were ogling a _poodle_." Ianto said coldly.

"When?" Owen asked.

"While you were off playing with blood." Ianto answered simply, waving a dismissive hand at Owen.

"Yes, of course you'd see a problem with that." Hart snorted, "Because you've never met a Chula before. Canis sapiens, lovely people. Well, for the most part... every species has their good and bad individuals."

"So... you'd do the dogman, but the Carrows are somehow too abhorrent for you?" Owen mocked.

"I did not say dog _man_... the sexual dimorphism in Chula is like something out of a badly drawn cartoon... or worse, World of Warcraft. The males are absolutely terrifying." Hart said, before hesitating and adding, "And you do realise there are children and sane persons present? Not that you or I would qualify under either category."

"Can we silence him again, please?" Neville asked Ianto, a slightly pained expression on his face as, while he may have lived a sheltered life before Hogwarts he had known Jack Harkness and Owen Harper for the better part of five years, so any naivete he may have had was long-since lost on the academic level, and he was able to follow pretty much exactly what this whole conversation was about.

Except the bit about playing with blood... he just put that down to Owen Harper being Owen Harper and decided he was better off not knowing.

"I'd love to." Ianto said warily, "But I'm not sure if that would hinder him in a fight or not. He's good with wordless magic, but..." he looked to Hart to answer this.

"My more powerful abilities do require more focus. Yes, it helps to speak." Hart shrugged with poorly feigned innocence, "I'll stop answering the lewd questions when you both stop asking them."

Ianto shrugged, then said simply, "Owen, shut up."

"What'd I do?" he protested, "You were the one who brought up the poodle!"

x x x

Harry stopped dead at the top of the flight of stairs down to the main entrance hall. The pure rage and hate washing over him from Voldemort's mind was overwhelming.

The worst of it was... every word of his announcement, which Tosh had mimicked in such a light-hearted way, had been a lie. He wanted everyone to suffer, not just Harry... but here was the catch, he didn't want his minions to know that, nor did he want the masses he intended to continue oppressing when it was over to realise that. He _wanted_ Harry to stay in the castle and hide, he _wanted_ to slaughter everyone in his path to get to him.

"Could anyone with a nice close blood tie to a Death Eater, please come with me." he said, maybe a bit too calmly. He didn't like what he was about to suggest, but still, the fact remained that the only people not safely hiding in the Room of Requirement had made it clear they were willing to fight... and what's more, they hadn't been reprimanded by either Jack or John for it. John's words to Colin might have been cruel, but he doubted the intention behind them was.

"Oh, we're a _diversion!_" Theodore Nott crowed, "I like it."

"It's not-" Harry began to protest, but then hesitated, "You what?"

"We go and look like we're fleeing right through the life-or-death situation out there." Nott said, to which Harry nodded slowly, "No doubt we'll have the castle possessed by a teenage girl diverting any deadly kinds of attention from us... but parents do tend not to see it that way."

"Yes... that is kind of what I was going to suggest. We could take the side exit through the greenhouses..."

"And you?" Tisiphone Carrow- a sixth year, and one of a set of identical twins who were standing to Harry's right- asked.

Harry took a deep breath, still fighting back the anger from Voldemort's mind, and making an effort to keep his voice level, "Jack and I are going to go as far as the Quidditch pitch with you, and I'm going to use the combination of Voldemort's promise not to hurt any purebloods, and you lot running through a battlefield, to try and convince his Death Eaters that rebellion is a good idea if he doesn't come after me there and leave the castle and the rest of the 'valuable wizarding blood' inside alone."

"So _some_ of us should stay inside?" Megaera- Tisiphone's sister- asked warily.

"The more they see in apparent danger, the more likely they are to mutiny." Jack observed. Harry had no idea when he arrived, but here he was now, "There are plenty of younger students in the Room of Requirement, not to mention I do believe Peeves has locked all the Junior Death Eaters in one of the dungeons with Mrs Norris and a large quantity of catnip... but if you don't want to take the risk we'd understand."

"So Owen wasn't involved then?" Derrin Harper asked, "Because we know he would have turned them _into_ catnip."

"As far as I'm aware, Owen doesn't know about this one, yet." Jack shrugged, "It was a spur of the moment, Peeves just decided he wanted to help out in the defence of the castle from what he referred to as '_the forces of lawful evil_'."

Megaera sighed, "It's a good plan, provided we can get protection spells, _and_ you don't go with us, even if it is only to the Quidditch pitch."

Tisiphone nodded in agreement, "You should run in a different direction, at the very least... leave a few minutes after us at best. If it looks like we're fraternising, it'll weaken the case for emotional blackmail."

"Hey, ladies, have I mentioned I think I love you?" Theodore Nott asked, grinning.

"Six times this morning." Tisiphone sneered.

"Grow up and there might be a possibility, you little pervert." Megaera agreed.

"I'm five months older than you!" Nott protested.

"Physically... maybe." Megaera muttered, "Emotionally..."

"As many _years_ younger." her twin concluded.

It didn't flow quite as easily as with the Weasley twins, but it was definitely that kind of twin-speak that still managed to be disconcerting regardless.

"Okay, through the greenhouses." Jack said, before tapping the commlink in his ear, "Tosh?"

Harry heard her positively mellow answer in his own commlink, "Shield spells on the purebloods. Check."

Jack hesitated, "Omniscient?"

"Only within the castle walls." she answered, "No I don't know the answer to what you're thinking, but your logic is sound. Hey, why can I read your mind now, but couldn't last time I was telepathic?"

"I'm not trying to stop you." Jack said simply.

"Hmm... okay." and the commlink clicked off.

"What was that about?" Harry asked.

"Her evil ex gave her a mind-reading device, once." Jack shrugged.

"Is it a requirement to be in your circle of friends that you have an evil ex?" Nott asked.

"Of course not!" Jack laughed, "Gwen doesn't have one."

"So Jones does?" Nott asked sceptically.

"You can shut up now, Theo." Jack said in the falsely cheerful yet painfully cold tone that says he's no longer kidding around. Nott wisely backed down.

x x x

The plan to have the Death Eaters see the fleeing Slytherins worked perfectly. Harry was only really half in his own body as he heard them bicker in fearful whispers that they thought Voldemort couldn't hear.

"Mutiny might be on the cards." he said simply.

He, Jack, Ianto and John were in the greenhouse, waiting to make their move. Jack had tried to suggest John stay the hell out of it, but John insisted he wanted to meet Voldemort in person, with the flippant remark of, "It's not every day you get to personally insult an evil overlord. Last time I did it was when we met Hitler, remember?"

Jack had not deigned to explain that one any further than the insinuation that mistranslating German swear words could lead to humiliating consequences and tyrannical dictators developing homophobic policies.

Jack glanced out the window, "I think we're clear now. There's a few Dementors gathering towards the pitch, but not enough to give either of us any trouble."

"I'll scout ahead, shall I?" Ianto offered.

Jack didn't even bother arguing, though it looked like he wanted to. Instead, he simply said, "Be careful." Ianto nodded, and transformed into his Animagus form, before soaring up through an open roof-panel in the greenhouse... and out towards the pitch.

The silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife, as Jack, Harry and John waited... but a minute later he was back, "There's an Acromantula on the pitch. Other than that and the six Dementors you spotted, we're good."

"Where's a Boggart when we need one, eh?" Jack asked with a smirk at Harry, who spluttered with laughter. He hadn't expected that at all, and he was grateful for the attempt to break the tension, however fleeting the result may be. "Would be nice to sic him on Voldemort, too." Jack pondered thoughtfully.

"I wonder what it would be for him..." Harry agreed, "It did say it didn't do figurative interpretations of death very well."

Hart rolled his eyes, "If you kids would just make with the Patronuses- Patroni?- I'll deal with the spider."

"We don't want to know how. Just tell us when it's over." Ianto said bluntly.

Harry sighed, "Sooner we get this over with the better."

"Kiss for good luck?" John asked hopefully.

"Not a chance." Jack and Harry said at the same time, while Ianto just snorted derisively. Oddly, while Jack's response had been offhand as if it was perfectly normal for John to make this request of him... John wasn't even looking at Jack at all, just Harry. It was downright unnerving, actually.

Harry checked the coast was clear one last time, idly noting the perfect formation of a group of four Harpies soaring over towards the lake, and the unconscious giant out on the lawn, before bolting for the Quidditch pitch. Jack was at his side, and the Animagus form of Ianto flew out past him and kept pace a few feet ahead of them.

Harry and Jack didn't even break stride as they both drew their wands and cast together, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The Dementors scattered in what could be mistaken for terror if you didn't know they couldn't feel that kind of emotion themselves, as the stag and the wolf charged headlong into them. Two of the slower Dementors were caught on the stag's antlers, and one of them was unfortunate enough to be pounced upon by the wolf and dissolved in a puff of smoke under its claws.

Then a great explosion from the pitch drew their attention, and Harry winced at the sight of spider legs and black ooze covering the stands on the far side. He really didn't care to find out how John had done that.

As the dust was settling a chill ran up Harry's spine, and an instant later a hand landed on his shoulder. He didn't see how John had got there so fast, but he was now standing right behind him, a strange combination of immense smugness and some discomfort. "You two are scary, sometimes." he said, glancing to where the wolf had shredded that one Dementor... as if blowing up a giant spider wasn't scary at all. "Shall we get to the fun part, then?"

Harry closed his eyes, briefly glimpsing the unrest in the Death Eater camp through Voldemort's mind. Then he cast, "Sonorus." on himself, and announced as loudly and clearly as he could, "_**Voldemort. This ends now. Leave Hogwarts and those within her walls unharmed, and face me in person. I'll be waiting on the Quidditch pitch.**_"

The Death Eaters' whispers intensified, but he couldn't make out the words. What was important was that Voldemort _knew_ this was it. He couldn't back down from this direct challenge, however much he may wish to. He was afraid.

He turned to Snape, who stood mere feet away, and- and Harry felt Occlumency shields he hadn't expected from Voldemort violently throw him out.

"Wow, he's learning." Harry said, somewhat shaken by that. He rubbed his forehead, an ache in his scar, almost like something just under his skull was throbbing in a way he couldn't quite explain away as blood pounding.

When he looked up it was to a genuinely concerned look from John, just a bit too close for comfort, as the man stared intently at his scar. It wasn't the awe he usually saw from people in the wizarding world. It was a kind of discomfort as if he _knew_ something but didn't want to say.

Harry glanced at Jack, who was watching Ianto circling in bird form, then back to John, "What?"

John blinked a few times, then shook his head, "History says you die today. It said Voldemort dies, too. Then again, it said Jack and I weren't here, the castle ended up half in ruins, and half a dozen other things that probably won't happen, so what does history know, eh?"

Harry wasn't sure how to react to that. He suddenly realised the full ramifications of the fact Jack and his friends were messing about with history, "What if we fail? What if Voldemort survives?"

John simply shrugged, that cold and almost soulless smirk plastered firmly across his face once more, "Well... maybe we'll find out. But, maybe try to see that we don't, yeah?"

Harry grit his teeth in determination, "I'd rather die fighting him than let him win."

Hart's smirk twisted with a hint of discomfort behind it, "Or maybe you can not die, and still defeat him. Time will tell."

That strange attempt at being comforting, from a complete psychopath, was rudely interrupted by curse-fire flying overhead. The flash of red light was accompanied by a loud shriek from Ianto, and Harry looked up to see the albatross falling in a tailspin towards the ground. Ianto pulled out of the spin just in time to land, _hard_, on the ground between Harry and... Bellatrix Lestrange, who was standing across the Quidditch pitch, grinning like the lunatic they all knew she was.

Ianto shifted back to his human form, clutching at his lower leg where it was bent at a very wrong angle, and Jack was at his side in an instant.

John hesitated, looking like he wanted to help as well... but then didn't.

"I- I'm okay." Ianto lied with a hiss of pain, brushing off Jack's attempt to help him, and instead holding his left hand to the injury and casting a spell that snapped the bone back into alignment with a soft glow of white light. Judging by the look on his face, it was incredibly painful.

So Jack turned on Bellatrix, positioning himself directly between her and Ianto, "You are going to regret that, in oh so many ways." he positively snarled.

"Get out of the way, you deviant little freak!" Bellatrix shrieked, "My Master wants you alive, but I will kill you to get to this traitor!"

Jack seemed to hesitate for a second, and then a positively victorious smirk slowly appeared on his face, as if a truly genius idea had just crossed his mind... and he opened his mouth to speak. Harry saw Jack's jaw working as if he was trying to find words and failing, before he whined quite loudly, "Aww, that's just not fair!"

"What?" Ianto asked, looking up at him sceptically.

"I can't even quote Obi-Wan Kenobi!" Jack protested, "Y'know, his last words. I really wanted to."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Don't encourage her!"

"Is this another science fiction thing?" Harry whispered to John.

"Still on Star Wars... yes." John nodded.

"You know, I'm beginning to regret using the Fidelius Charm. Takes all the snarky one-liners out of life." Jack said, somewhat sulky, before smiling coldly at Bellatrix, "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. You'll just have to kill me."

"Jack, no!" Ianto protested, "Don't-"

But it was too late. "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_" Bellatrix shrieked. The curse struck Jack in the chest. He didn't even try to stop it. In fact, he dropped his wand an instant _before_ it hit him.

That last part was very good. He dropped the wand _willingly_. He didn't _lose_ it to Bellatrix.

The Jack dying part, however, was very bad.

Ianto had moved to his side- favouring his uninjured leg, but not showing any pain now- obviously horrified and distressed.

"Look at Lestrange." John said calmly. Harry looked. Bellatrix Lestange was cringing, hand to her chest as if in physical pain, eyes entirely unfocused, unable to process what she had witness. "The Fidelius Charm. She can't even understand what just happened. It's like a Confundus charm, concussion, and some nausea thrown in for good measure. Trust me, I've been there... there's an entire species, the existence of which is kept by that charm. Not very fun to date, I can tell you."

Harry tried very hard to tune that last part out, and focused on the fact that Bellatrix was _not_ paying attention right now. He raised his wand, took careful aim, and almost casually cast, "Stupify."

Ianto glanced up as Bellatrix collapsed to the ground, but barely registered it as he returned his full attention to Jack, "I hate when you do that, you idiot. How the hell did you stay out of Gryffindor?"

"Because he's an underhanded, manipulative, lying, stealing con-artist and he loves every moment of it." John said brightly. "Seriously, though, if you're... him... it's hardly typical Gryffindor behaviour to do... that. You should really get rid of that charm, you know. It's downright annoying."

Ianto just glared up at him, but didn't argue.

Harry positively jumped when Jack gasped for breath, alive once more. He had seen it before, but it was still startling. Ianto held him close as he regained his bearings. Harry looked away, across the pitch towards the castle, feeling as if he was interrupting something incredibly private.

Almost a minute passed before he heard movement and looked to see Jack and Ianto standing up again, and John craning his neck in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

"Speaking of typical Gryffindor behaviour..." John said, "I believe that's my cue to do something incredibly rash and infuriating. Because it's fun. Sonorus." he said simply, before shouting with maniacal glee, "**_Tom Marvolo Riddle, you cowardly, egotistical, half-blood bastard. Sending your girlfriend to do your dirty work, that's just low. We're waiting... and unlike you, we are willing to honour the rules of a true Wizard's Duel to the death. Now get your pasty little arse out here before I start making chicken noises. Because you don't want the innocent pureblood children to hear MY impersonation of a rooster in heat._**"

"Roosters are male, they don't even-" Ianto muttered, trying very hard not to laugh.

"_**Come on!**_" John crowed, "_**Bring it, bitch!**_"

x x x


	135. The War To End All Wars

x x x

**Chapter 135: The War To End All Wars**

x x x

"A true Wizard's Duel, is it, Potter?" Harry heard the cold, high-pitched voice from off to one side, and turned to face Voldemort, as he strode out onto the Quidditch pitch, accompanied by two hooded and masked Death Eaters, "And which of your friends are you going to use as a shield today, I wonder?"

"Well, I'm safe." John snorted, "Definitely _not_ a friend."

Harry glared sideways at John, "Can you please either be useful or be quiet?"

John shrugged, "Maybe I'll do both, you could get lucky."

Harry shook his head, "I never asked for anyone to die for me, and if any of you three do-" he shot a very specific glare at Jack, "I'm going to have to turn dark, learn Necromancy, and bring you back just to kick your arse for trying it!"

"The correct phrasing is '_turn to the Dark Side_'." John answered, smirking as if this was just all one big joke, "Still on Star Wars. Yeah."

Harry rolled his eyes, "If I live through this, the second thing I do will to be to watch that movie-"

"Those movies." Ianto corrected automatically.

"And the first thing?" Jack asked with a bit of a leer that made it clear exactly what he was thinking.

Harry simply answered, "Yes."

"Oh, who's the lucky girl?" John asked, grinning.

Harry had no intention of answering that, especially not with his murderous arch-nemesis within earshot, but before he could even tell John it was none of his damned business, a cry from overhead heralded Fawkes' arrival on the scene.

Harry probably should have been more surprised to see the bird transform into a tall dark-haired man of somewhat regal bearing, when he landed next to John. "Sorry I'm late, but I really couldn't pass up the opportunity to witness this."

"I could conjure popcorn." John offered. At the blank look Fawkes gave him, he explained, "Muggle snack, stereotypically consumed while watching entertaining displays."

"No thank you."

"Yeah, it doesn't taste that good really. I don't see what the point is, it's just a cliche." John shrugged.

Voldemort cleared his throat pointedly.

"Oh, sorry, were we interrupting your evil monologuing?" John asked with a laugh.

"Typical cry for attention." Fawkes said with a sage nod.

"Are you learning from popular culture, the Weasley twins, or me?" John asked him.

"All of the above, though I try to ignore you as often as reasonable measures for self-defence allow."

A flash of green light suddenly flared in their direction. Fawkes simply leaned to the side to make sure he avoided it, while John dissolved into black smoke and reappeared after the curse had passed through where he had been.

"He just doesn't learn, does he?" Fawkes said with a sort of tired exasperation, mingled with almost cruel amusement.

"Well those two are thick as thieves." Ianto whispered to Jack, "I'm officially afraid."

"Who is he?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we haven't been properly introduced, Mr Potter." Fawkes bowed to him, with the sort of respect that one of much older wizarding etiquette might to an equal they saw as a powerful ally, "I am Salazar Slytherin, co-Founder of Hogwarts, at your service."

Voldemort spluttered in indignant rage at this, while Harry just gaped in shock.

Salazar leaned closer to John to say in a low tone, "You know, cliche snack-foods for entertainment purposes might be appropriate now, after all."

Harry gave the two of them a bemused look, "Um, guys... we're trying to have a duel to the death to settle this whole war, and you're cracking jokes about popcorn?"

"I agree." Voldemort sneered at Salazar and John, "I will kill the two of you later!"

"Well... someone will." Ianto muttered, glancing at John with a faint smirk.

"Love you too, Eye-Candy."

"How old is he?" Salazar asked John, with evident disapproval.

"Thirty-one." John answered with a shrug.

Ianto blinked, "Wow, he's right." he muttered as if he actually hadn't thought about his real age before.

Voldemort growled, "Potter!"

"Yes, I'd rather fight you than listen to John for another five minutes." Harry agreed, carefully picking up the wand that Jack had dropped when he died earlier, and assuming the standard duelling stance, "Let's do this."

Voldemort sneered, drawing the Elder Wand with just a touch too much dramatic flair, "How do you expect to escape this time, Potter?"

"I know things you don't know." Harry said calmly, "I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"

"Is it love again?" Voldemort sneered "Dumbledore's favourite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter- and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?"

"You know, if you're trying to make me angry, sorry to say that seems to be a one-way street. Tom Riddle." Harry retorted coldly.

Yes, it still worked, using his real name caused a snarl of disgust to wash Voldemort's face as he positively jeered, "If it is not love that will save you this time, you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"

"I believe both." Harry answered simply.

And that shocked him for a moment, before he burst into laughter at what he must perceive as the utter ridiculousness of that suggestion. "You think you know more magic than I do?" he scoffed. "Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"

"More magic? Probably not. You are getting pretty old these days, aren't you?" Harry said coldly.

"Hey!" he heard Jack protest indignantly somewhere behind him.

"No, just different magic." Harry concluded.

Voldemort snorted in derision, though the fear was there, barely hidden right behind it. "It matters not. I have the greatest weapon forged of magic-"

"Would you like me to summon up a rocket launcher?" John offered from off to the side, "See how you measure up to that."

"Interesting as that would be..." Harry said, not sparing a glance away from Voldemort, "Please shut up, John. And no, Tom... you don't."

"You know so very little, Potter."

"I know you're _holding_ the greatest weapon forged of magic... according to legend." Harry said casually, "The Elder Wand. Thing is, just how much do you know about wandlore?"

"Can I start with the wand jokes yet?" John asked, "I've got a list... it's very long."

"Silencio." Ianto answered, causing both Jack and Salazar to laugh, and even Voldemort looked somewhat pleased by John's sudden inability to speak.

"Hey, before we get to the actual death part of this duel." Jack interrupted, "I'd really like if you could tell me just one thing, Voldemort. When you killed Lily Potter, did you really want to? I've heard it said before she was a powerful witch, and I know the rumours about Harry's first encounter with you implied that you gave her a clear choice to step aside. Why did you do that?"

Harry did not like the way he said that. It was both too direct and touched a nerve... and also entirely too calculating, like he was up to something.

Interestingly, Voldemort hesitated, "I only needed to kill the boy. She was irrelevant."

"Given the choice to change things, would you undo it? Let her live?" Jack asked warily, "And I'm not talking about the magical protection she gave Harry, that's entirely irrelevant to my point."

"I don't see why it matters." Voldemort snorted.

"Would you?" Jack insisted.

"It would have saved me some minor inconvenience with that treacherous spy, Snape."

"That's the only reason?" Jack asked, now sounding a bit disappointed. "No value for magical talent? No sense of waste at the loss?"

"What the hell are you doing, Jack?" Ianto demanded.

"I second that question." Harry agreed.

"It was a waste, but I do not regret it." Voldemort snarled, "Now if you will excuse me, I am in the middle of exterminating the remains of that pathetic bloodline forever!"

"Uh oh... you said the Muggle word..." Ianto muttered under his breath.

"No, I'm not going to rise to that bait." Jack said, shrugged, "He's all yours, Harry."

"Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, the Elder Wand." Harry grinned.

"It is mine! I have won it by writ of murdering its former owner, who in turn murdered Albus Dumbledore."

"You mean Snape?" Harry asked, a bit surprised by this, though in retrospect he probably shouldn't be.

"That is correct." Voldemort grinned victoriously, "So you see, I wield the full force of the Elder Wand."

"Uh, no." Harry said, somewhat deadpan, "No, see, Dumbledore was defeated in a minor scuffle with a student, which he planned in advance and meant to lose."

"Hi." Jack waved.

"Yeah, him." Harry agreed casually. Voldemort raised his wand toward Jack immediately.

"Yes, because that does anyone any good." Jack snorted.

"You'd be too late anyway." Harry said, "Jack gave his wand to me. According to Ollivander, its allegiance was transferred through an almost ritual gifting in time of dire need." Voldemort shifted uneasily at this suggestion. "I know what you're thinking. Does that make a difference to the Elder Wand. Well, to tell you the truth, I really don't know myself. But if it does, then that means that I am the true owner of the Elder Wand, and seeing as it is the most powerful weapon forged by magic and probably wouldn't like being ordered to kill its true owner, you've got to ask yourself one question... do I feel lucky?"

Voldemort positively seethed for a moment, but then with rage and fury beyond all sense of reason he snarled, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_" Harry shouted at the same time.

Their spells met in mid-air and exploded in a brilliant burst of golden light, and the Elder Wand soared out of Voldemort's hand, arcing through the air to Harry, who caught it with instinctive ease.

The killing curse had rebounded, and Voldemort fell to the ground, dead by his own spell.

"Now _that_ is an excellent use of movie quotes." Jack said with some degree of pride, as he watched Voldemort's body warily.

Harry laughed, somewhere between genuine appreciation for the distraction, and shock at the situation he needed so desperately to be distracted from. Voldemort was dead, he had just duelled the self-appointed greatest dark lord of their time, and won. By technicality, sure, but it had still been so tense. He was shaking.

It was finally over.

x x x

Jack and Ianto stunned the two remaining Death Eaters, and quickly moved to unmask them.

"Rabastan Lestrange." Ianto announced first.

"And I've got Rodolphus." Jack confirmed, "That makes the whole set."

Ianto was just about to cast Sonorus on himself, and announce Voldemort's death to the rest of the battlefield, when Tosh beat him to it.

Her calm, almost-but-not-quite cheerful voice floated on the air through the castle like a gentle but insistent breeze, "_**The Dark Lord is dead.**_" she announced. It didn't echo audibly... but inside his head it kind of felt like it did. "_**I can see the names of everyone on the school grounds. Those who served the Dark Lord should surrender, and they may be shown leniency. Flee and your names will be given to the Aurors... you will be hunted.**_"

"Oh, I love it when she does that." Jack grinned, "Above and beyond anything I ask of her, and always knows the right way to do it."

"I got the impression that was why you hired her?" Ianto asked.

"Yes." Jack agreed, "Yes, it was." he turned back to the others, only to see that Salazar had disappeared without a trace, and John was supporting a somewhat shaken Harry, who looked like he might collapse now the adrenaline had gone out of him.

"Come on, we should get back to the castle." Ianto said gently.

It was downright shocking the way John actually acted like a decent, compassionate human being as he supported Harry on their journey back to the castle. Jack was probably having entirely too much fun levitating the three unconscious Death Eaters upside down. Only Rodolphus retained any semblance of modesty, as Rabastan's robes and Bellatrix's dress fell down over their heads to reveal bare legs and underwear.

Very lacy red underwear in Bellatrix's case.

"You know, I like her boots." Jack observed idly. The boots in question where thigh-high black leather with a lot of straps and buckles, surprisingly elaborate considering they were usually covered by the ankle-length dress. Actually, Ianto had never seen her in the same dress twice, though all of them had been black, lacy, corsety, ridiculously elaborate, and most likely custom-made.

"Yes... because that's what anyone is looking at." Ianto snorted with laughter.

He glanced back to see that John wasn't even looking at the Lestranges at all. He was all-but-carrying Harry, while doing a damned good job of making it look like he wasn't. Suddenly, Ianto remembered that he hadn't broken the silencing spell yet... and promptly did so.

"Long walk when all you want to do is kiss the girl and then sleep for a week, huh?" he asked Harry.

Harry snorted weakly, "You really are as bad as Jack, aren't you?" he asked.

"You don't know him that well." Jack called back, "He makes me look tame by comparison."

"It's the poodles." Ianto nodded.

"And Centaurs. Don't forget the Centaurs!" John said with a laugh.

Harry shook his head, "Please don't ever elaborate on that!" he protested in what seemed to only be mock horror. Like he was just too tired to _really_ be horrified about anything short of what had just happened.

"Come on, time to act tough..." John said to Harry, as they approached a large group of people waiting outside the doors of the castle. The doors in question were slowly melting from steel back to wood, while nearby, some damaged stonework was tumbling upwards and melding back into whole stone blocks where they were supposed to be. The castle was repairing itself.

Harry straightened up and moved a few steps ahead of the group. This was probably aided by Jack slowing down to walk next to Ianto, "I really don't envy him right now... but do you think I should attract some attention and let him have some privacy from the crowd of rabid fans?"

"If I were in his place... I'd appreciate it." Ianto answered diplomatically.

Jack grinned, and dropped the Lestranges (not suddenly enough to hurt them, but certainly dramatically enough to get everyone's attention) in the middle of the crowed. Harry did not waste the opportunity, and slipped off through the doors, with Ron and Hermione and Ginny.

"It's the red-head, right?" John asked tactlessly.

"The girl... yes." Jack answered as if that wasn't inappropriate at all.

x x x

They only had two days left in this time, and it seemed to fly by.

The morning after Voldemort died, Harry showed up at the Ministry of Magic and outright blackmailed the remnants of the Wizengamot into forcing through the equal rights laws he had promised to the Goblins and Jack had offered to the werewolves. He also added a list of laws which Hermione had helped write, that detailed Muggle rights when they stumbled across the wizarding world. Gone was the idea that it was fine to just Obliviate them and let them toddle off, now there was a shedload of paperwork attached, with regulations on fair treatment and basic human rights that must be attended to as well.

Not to mention the anti-discrimination laws for Muggle-borns, part-humans and non-human sentient life-forms.

Hermione really would have made an excellent lawyer... if she hadn't been born with the inconvenience of a moral compass.

The trials for Death Eaters were scheduled to start in earnest the following week, but a few exceptions had been rushed through quickly. Defectors like the Malfoys were pardoned pretty promptly. Scabior rudely turned down Hermione's suggestion that he should see a psychologist, but in spite of than that he was barely given a slap on the wrist and the magical equivalent of an ASBO.

Severus Snape was posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin: First Class by the new Minister of Magic, and the George Cross by a representative of the Muggle government. The very presence of a Muggle at the ceremony had taken Harry and Jack both exerting their fullest resources of blackmail against the Ministry.

Jack had also tried to weasel Torchwood into convincing the right people to recognise Snape was a soldier who had been operating in a warzone, so he could therefore be granted a higher award still... but everyone in that chain of command had basically told him to piss off before they stripped him of his own sixteen posthumously awarded medals of bravery that Torchwood didn't let him play with.

x x x

The whirlwind of activity that centred around Hogwarts, the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic really made it next to impossible for the proper heartfelt goodbyes some of the Torchwood team had expected. Especially Gwen.

In fact, the most time any of them actually got to say goodbye was between Ianto and John Hart.

"You know you broke it, right?" John asked Ianto, somewhat sadly.

"You mean..."

"He's not entirely dead." John shrugged, "It is possible it could take another decade for him to even TRY to come back, and he'll certainly be weaker now than last time... but he will try, and you've really exhausted your options here."

"Don't even think about killing Harry." Ianto warned him darkly.

"I've learned a lot of things from the Time Agency, Eye-Candy... and one of them is that the best way to prevent a paradox when you _know_ what should have happened is to _not change it in the first place_. You changed it, now it's too late to know if killing him now would even help. No, I won't try it. There is every possibility that if I tried, Riddle could already have found a means of sustaining himself without that last safety net... and then all it would have achieved would be to remove the only ace we have up our sleeve."

"Well... no grooming him for the next war, either!"

"That I can't promise." John said with a smirk. "Because you and Jack did break time. I can't go home... and you might not have long left in this decade, but while you're away I'm stuck here. Might as well be useful."

Ianto sighed, "I hate you."

"No." John said with a cold smirk, "You hate your own conscience, for doing the wrong thing for the right reason."

"We did the right thing."

"Morally... not technically."

"I really do hate you."

John laughed, "Of course you do."

A moment of oddly comfortable silence passed between them, then Ianto turned to look at him critically, "Why _are_ you wearing a concealment charm, anyway?"

"I don't have to answer that."

"So it's none of my business, then?"

"I didn't say that." John grinned almost malevolently at him, "It just doesn't have to be your business if you don't want it to be."

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Well I can't know that unless you tell me, can I?"

John leaned closer to him and whispered five words in his ear.

Ianto stared at him in shock.

"Ianto!" Tosh called from the doorway, "The crystal's started glowing, I think you need to be here!"

"You are kidding, right?" Ianto asked John, almost completely ignoring Tosh for the moment.

"I joke about a lot of things. Sex, murder, torture, violence, the futility of the human condition... no, I'm not joking now."

"_IANTO!_" Jack shouted from beyond where Tosh was waiting.

"Go on, Eye-Candy." John prompted, "I'll catch up with you in ten years."

Ianto edged away from John, towards the door, still in shock, "There really aren't words for how much I hate you right now."

"Yes there are, you're just too polite." John laughed.

Ianto turned and left the room with Tosh.

The crystal was waiting on the table in the middle of the next room, glowing a brilliant white. The rest of the team were gathered around it, all looking nervous to some degree, whether out of genuine apprehension, a reluctance to leave... or in Gwen's case it looked like both.

"We all have to touch it, seems the logical- by magic's standards- step." Tosh explained.

"We still don't even know what created it or brought us here." Owen whined.

"Well maybe we'll find out after we get home." Jack said, reaching forward and touching the crystal.

One by one the others followed suit. Ianto gave one last glance back at the doorway, still in shock at what John had told him. Then he placed his hand on the crystal and blinding white light swept over all five of them.

And just like that, they were gone.

x x x


	136. Except It Wasn't

x x x

**Chapter 136: Except It Wasn't**

x x x

Jack looked around the Hub in confusion. He scowled and checked his wrist strap. "Twenty-oh-eight. October thirty-first. Eight seventeen AM."

"Ten minutes after we left." Tosh said, staring at the desolate cold around them.

The Hub was in ruins.

"What happened?" Owen asked in awe.

"You fucked up, that's what happened." a cold voice drawled from overhead. They looked up to see a thin blond man perched on one of the beams that Myfanwy usually liked to alight on. He was wearing all black, semi-formal but not quite a suit. More wizardy. Draco Malfoy stared darkly at them through the roiling dust, "Took you long enough to get here. Your better half didn't give an exact date, I've been camped out here for weeks!"

"Better half?" Owen sneered. "Hey, where is tea-boy, anyway?"

Jack looked around at his team, startled. Ianto was missing. And so was Gwen.

"I meant the man you claimed was your father." Draco sneered, jumping down and using a spell to slow his fall so he landed neatly from the fifteen foot fall as if he had just hopped off a chair. "Seems you don't even trust yourself, Harkness."

"I... didn't think it was relevant." Jack said, still looking around, "Where is Ianto?" he demanded, turning on Draco again.

"Dead." Draco answered flatly.

Jack felt like his heart had stopped for a second, "What?"

"He died at Canary Wharf." Draco explained as if speaking to a moron, "You apparently travelled back in time and did something that destroyed your own lives."

"Then how are we here?" Tosh asked, "If we changed things, how come we're all still here?"

"Because nobody Obliviated Jack." Draco explained, "He knew enough of what needed to happen to coach us through it. We didn't realise how badly you messed up until the death toll at Canary Wharf came in. We got everything else right up to then."

"You keep saying 'we'?" Owen asked warily.

"Jack recruited me." Draco shrugged, "And Potter, actually, but... well." he hesitated.

"What?" Jack insisted.

"Time travel amnesia's a right laugh, isn't it?" Draco sneered, disgusted, "Potter died. Murdered by a Muggle, actually."

"What!" Jack repeated.

"The Muggle Prime Minister made a deal with the Dark Lord, and killed the Gryffindor golden boy. Even I didn't see that one coming. Mind you, after it I _did_ see what happened to the US president a mile off."

"Fuck!" Jack yelled, loudly, before spinning around and demanding, "Let me guess... second of May, this year?"

"Yes."

"How the living fuck did you predict _that_ in Divination?" Owen demanded, "You _sucked_ at Divination!"

"Trelawney didn't like me. There's a difference." Jack said coldly, "Tell me the Prime Minister's wife shot him. Please?"

"Yyyeah." Draco said warily, "That was oddly specific."

"One nightmare at a time." Jack muttered, sighing deeply and sinking into a chair.

Tosh crouched down next to him and rested a comforting arm on his shoulder. He pushed her away.

"Alright, brief history." Draco said, "Since you clearly need it. The Dark Lord was killed just before you lot disappeared, except for the part where he wasn't. We have no idea how he came back, you obviously missed a Horcrux... and rumour has it he made at least two new ones since then, probably more. Potter went into hiding, trying to keep on hunting them. The Order currently runs the Ministry, but since Harry died it's basically been all-out war with the Death Eaters. After the turn of the millennium, you hired Potter and I to join your team, mostly because you were lonely, depressed, and had told yourself I was good in bed."

Owen snorted derisively, earning a smack from Tosh.

"It gave us a base to work from, in the fight against the Dark Lord, and whole lot of weapons I'd never imagined before, none of which you would let my play with." Draco smirked faintly, "You assigned me to protect the Prime Minister... which is kind of difficult when he gets possessed by an alien. Then his successor went and got herself killed by another alien. And the last one committed assorted murders and got himself shot. So my track record's really kind of lousy."

"If it's any consolation, I'm glad the last one died." Jack said bitterly, "And... wait, who got killed by an alien?"

"Harriet Jones."

Jack stared blankly, "She was meant to get voted out."

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"No clue. Some small levitating metal thing showed up, about a week before the last election and killed her."

"That I can believe." Jack grumbled.

"Enlighten the rest of us?" Owen asked hopefully.

Jack groaned in irritation, running his fingers through his hair, "So where's Vol-"

"_Don't fucking say it!_" Owen yelled, pouncing on Jack and covering his mouth. Jack bit, and Owen let him go.

"The name is still Taboo." Draco confirmed coldly, "And we have no idea where he is now. After the Muggle Prime Minister died, he vanished again. The man in charge of the Muggles now makes Cornelius Fudge look heroic and noble."

"Sounds like a fun place to work." Owen sniped.

"Well we have to stop him." Jack said simply.

"We've got a small problem with that. We can't." Draco said, frowning, "We know what two of his Horcruxes are... we just can't get to either one."

Jack gave him a questioning look for this.

"He figured he needed to learn about Muggle stuff, after the multiple ways it has been used to kick his arse. He decided the best way to protect himself was to take advantage of their technology. One of the two Horcruxes we know about was cast in concrete and dropped into the Mariana Trench. The other was put on a satellite headed for Mars... unfortunately not the same one that the Sycorax usurped. That would have been nice... it landed in Bromley when their ship got blown up two years ago."

"Well fuck." Owen mumbled. They were all pretty much completely stunned by this news, really.

"And you, genius-" Draco continued, pointing an accusing finger at Jack, "-didn't tell us Potter was a Horcrux himself. We didn't know about that until the Dark Lord announced it on the evening news... along with the fact that his body had been chopped into a dozen pieces and hidden in undisclosed locations he claims were chosen by throwing darts at a map."

Jack was completely distraught at this news. Couldn't really process it. Very much didn't want to. He was only snapped out of his horror at the situation by Tosh's quiet query of, "Um... where's Gwen?"

Draco blinked, then shrugged, "Oh, she's at home with her boyfriend. You gave her the weekend off after something about a hell dimension. Because our own dimension isn't bad enough, apparently."

Jack looked up at him, "That timing isn't right..." he muttered softly.

"Well it did take them a week to get you back."

"No..." Tosh said as she and Owen exchanged a look, "It- ...oh!"

"No Ianto." Owen concluded, not even bothering with any irreverent nicknames.

Jack couldn't stand it anymore. Why did everyone he cared about have to meet such gruesome fates. Was it really too much to ask to find someone who he could be with until they grew old with him?

He stood up and stormed out of the Hub, not wanting any of them to follow him. Thankfully, none of them did.

x x x

Gwen sat upright sharply, staring around her in surprise.

Okay, her flat... her bedroom... good start, but she had expected the Hub. She quickly checked her own body, and surprised herself by being positively gleeful at the fact she was thirty-one again. Weren't normal women meant to be bothered by that? Nope, she was hot and she knew it. Better than being jail-bait, that was for sure.

A secondary scan of the room showed Rhys snoring away, face-down in the pillow next to her.

She smiled warmly, and mussed up his hair, "Rise and shine, sleepy-head." she cheered.

Rhys promptly stole her pillow and covered his head with it. Gwen laughed, "Get up! I have to get to work... but there's something you can do for me, first." she said with a grin.

The pillow shifted and one eye peeked out sceptically, "Gwen, darlin'... you feeling alright?"

"Couldn't be better." Gwen said brightly.

The sceptical look continued.

"What?" she asked blankly.

"I got a letter last night, Gwen." he said, frowning as he sat up and reached over to the bedside table. Gwen couldn't quite decide between eyeing his arse as he leaned over, or craning her neck to see what he was reaching for. She ended up trying to do both, and got a crick in her neck.

When Rhys handed her the letter, she hesitated, suddenly terrified. It was written in slightly faded, but still shimmery red-gold ink, on very old and worn parchment. She checked over the envelope it was resting in, and saw a date-stamp of 1952 in green ink, barely still visible, within the design of a pair of owls with wings outstretched to form a solid circle. This was _definitely_ a wizarding style letter, and if the date-stamp was accurate... well. Creepy.

"It's from my cousin... well, I say cousin, it's like... five generations back that word didn't need a bunch of modifiers on it." Rhys lowered his voice to a whisper, "That side of the family are a bit, y'know... well, weird."

Gwen warily read the letter through.

'_Dear Rhys,_  
><em>If you're reading this letter then something Very<em>  
><em> Bad has happened, I'm probably dead (again), and<em>  
><em> your wife and her co-workers are the only ones<em>  
><em> that can fix it.<em>  
><em>Torchwood. I know you know about them. My sources<em>  
><em> are only wrong when they're lying, and they have<em>  
><em> no reason to that I can see.<em>  
><em>Tell them; they need to find Electra. That's all<em>  
><em> I've been told unfortunately. I hate it when they<em>  
><em> act all cryptic as much as I'm sure you do too.<em>  
><em>Good luck.<em>  
><em>Rory.<em>  
><em>P.S. Please don't reply to this letter.<em>  
><em>Time travel.<em>  
><em>I won't have a clue what you're on about.<em>'

"Who's Electra?" she asked sceptically.

"Dunno. Wasn't she like a comic book character, or something?" Rhys asked dubiously.

Gwen snorted with nervous laughter, "I don't think they'd be the same person then." but then she scowled at the letter, "_Very Bad_. Capitalised and all. What do you think he means?"

"Well, there's the freak weather over the north-west this last two months. People're saying it's 'bone-chilling', causing depression, and all... and it's moving our way soon, too, they say." Rhys began to list, "That serial killer in London that nobody can figure out how he gets in and out of houses locked from the inside. The spate of fatal poisonings in the south-west, leave people kinda purple-skinned."

"Dementors, Apparation... a Nundu?" Gwen muttered, before shaking her head, "I think I know what the Very Bad is. I have to get to the Hub."

"I'm coming with you." Rhys insisted with determination.

Gwen paused a moment, then nodded curtly, "Alright, then. Guess there's no arguing when there's family involved, right?"

Rhys smiled at her and nodded as well, "Damned right."

x x x

"It's counter-productive." Celia said coldly, staring out the window of her office at the roiling fog. "We need to eliminate it."

"It's competition, isn't it?" Caedius Abelsmith said with a sly smirk.

"Yes, it is." Celia turned to face him directly, "I don't care how much we bleed for it, who we ally with for it. This problem is to be eliminated at all costs. Clear?"

Caedius smiled, "Crystal."

As he turned to leave the room, Celia Costerdane returned her gaze to the fog outside her window. "I know your name friend." she said coldly, knowing full well he would never hear her, but enjoying the opportunity to monologue well enough from this safe distance, regardless. "A feeling that shall never be mutual. And as they say there is a power in names. This world is ours, and you will not interfere with that."

x x x


	137. Schrodinger's Poodle

x x x

**Chapter 137: Schrodinger's Poodle**

x x x

Rhys had dropped Gwen off as close to the Hub as it was legal to drive, and gone off to park the car. Now Gwen was crossing the plaza towards the invisible lift, scanning the area with confusion and concern.

Everyone was on-edge. All the civilians, the Muggles, they were scared.

The sky was overcast and gloomy, the wind was chilling... but that didn't quite account for the rabbit-in-headlights looks people got when they made eye-contact with her, right before pulling up their collars and rushing off. Every single one of them was acting like they didn't want to admit they knew something very bad. Something very bad that probably wasn't their fault, but they were scared of what it would do if they admitted it existed.

She had only seen that look a few times before, on the victims of domestic violence or hate-crimes that she had seen come through the station when she had been with the police.

She stood on the lift for several minutes, watching the people hurry by. Once or twice she thought some of the more suspicious individuals looked right in her direction, but then their eyes drifted on like the perception filter was meant to make them do, and she shrugged it off as paranoia.

When she gave up on the lift as a bad idea, she texted Rhys that she was going to the tourist office, and set off in that direction.

She was just turning the corner towards the tourist office, where the pier came into view, when she saw someone jump off of the end. Someone who had left behind a very distinctive WWII greatcoat on the decking.

"Jack!" Gwen shouted, running out to the end of the pier.

x x x

It was two whole hours before Jack finally surfaced. Gwen had been sitting, watching, trying not to literally bite her nails, the entire time. Rhys had arrived, gone again and come back with coffee, and then gone to get Tosh, Owen, and Draco, who had been in the Hub. It was in fact thanks only to Draco's use of levitation spells, rather than anything else, that Jack was now sitting in a distinctly sulky puddle on the wooden decking, instead of at the bottom of the ocean.

"Just so we're clear, you only succeeded because I was drowning while you were trying to levitate me." Jack said coldly, as Draco cast a drying spell on him as well, just for good measure. "It's very hard to concentrate when you're drowning, you know."

"You really can be a stubborn bastard about the most unhealthy things for you." Draco said in a tone somewhere between morbidly ironic and downright cruel.

Jack said nothing.

Owen had to ask, "Any specifics?"

"I've worked with him since the turn of the century." Draco shrugged, "I have come to realise what an impulsive idiot he can be when he thinks he's in the right."

"That's not specific." Owen observed.

Draco stared at him, somewhat blankly, "It wasn't meant to be. I only give specifics about people I want to hurt."

Gwen looked across at Tosh, who was looking lost and notably upset. She looked to Owen, who was wearing the jerk-who-couldn't-care-less mask, which she had only seen crack when Katie or Diane were dragged into the conversation, yet she could see the edges fraying slightly now. Jack was a complete wreck... and Ianto wasn't here.

Well, two plus two equals four... and she was _not_ going to put her foot in _that_ one.

"Guys..." she said tentatively, "Rhys and I got this letter from a cousin of his." she handed it over to Tosh, who scanned it quickly.

"Well it's clearly of Wizarding origin." she stated simply, turning the parchment over to see if there was anything on the back. When she saw there wasn't she turned it back over and re-read the text again. "This letter implies there may be a way to fix whatever happened to the timelines." she said warily, glancing up at Jack as she said this.

She had his full attention now.

"It says we have to find 'Electra'." she frowned, "It doesn't say if that's a person, a place, or..." she shrugged, "It just says 'Electra'."

"Give me that." Jack took the letter and read over it several times, his initial burst of energy as he had snatched the piece of parchment away from Tosh faded with each re-reading of the letter yielding no further clues.

"Hang on, what d'you mean, 'Wizarding'?" Rhys asked.

Draco stared for a few seconds, "Wait, who brought the Muggle?"

"Oi!" Rhys protested, "What's a Muggle?"

"Not a wizard." Owen answered dismissively.

"Don't tell me there's wizards now as well?" Rhys protested, "Wizards _and_ aliens?"

"Sorry, Rhys, we just found out about the wizarding world ourselves..." Gwen said, a scowl spreading across her face at the ridiculousness of what she was saying as she continued, "When we time-travelled back to the nineteen-nineties."

Rhys seemed to decide he was at his limit for shock, and just shrugged and went with it, "When did that happen?"

"Yesterday." Gwen scowled.

"In fact, because we changed the past, we remember a different timeline, up to this morning." Tosh added efficiently, "Gwen was with us in the Hub when we left originally, and we're pretty sure your weekend away was two weeks earlier."

Rhys gave her a blank look, "Think I was better off not asking." he muttered.

Jack turned on Rhys, "Have you ever heard of anyone named Electra?"

"What makes you so sure it's a person?" Owen asked sceptically.

Jack blinked, then shook his head, "I'm not, but it's a theory to start with."

"Just that cartoon character." Rhys shrugged, "She wore red and was a ninja or something, I think. My mate in school used to read them."

"Wait..." Draco said suddenly thoughtful, "I think I might know who it is. We always called her Ellie, but... I think..." He pulled out a wallet, from which he drew a charmed photograph of a little girl, probably only eight or nine years old, and turned it over. The name hand-written on the back said, 'Electra Black'.

"Sirius took her in after her mother died." Draco explained, showing them all the photo, "She's spent the last year trying to set my four-year-old son up on a 'not playdate, proper date' with Jamie Potter. This might look better to my father if Jamie was a girl."

Owen spluttered with laughter at this.

"Well I guess we're going to be paying Sirius a visit." Jack said simply. It was unsettling, the way he said, like he sounded almost dead inside and this was his last hope so god help you if you got in his way.

The rest of the team nodded in agreement, and Gwen said, "Alright, let's go!"

"Hang on..." Rhys muttered sceptically, "Did that photograph _move?_"

x x x

Getting to Sirius' home was not an easy task. First, Draco had to speak to Sirius via an enchanted mirror. Sirius then had to Apparate to their location and speak to them in person in order to give them directions protected by the Fidelius charm. He was its Secret Keeper, not for his own protection but for the safety of his godson and adopted daughter. Apparently, any old pureblood family who did not conform to the Pureblood Elite attitude was a target, even if the children had done nothing in particular against the Dark Lord.

These directions were not helpful on their own, however. Instead Sirius gave them a Portkey to get to an undisclosed location, from which those directions would lead them to his home.

Not complicated at all.

No, of course not.

Rhys was the only one not complaining about the length of the walk and the paranoia of the level of secrecy, when they finally arrived.

It was definitely no Grimmauld Place, that was for sure. The house was looked a bit like a small wooden hut from the outside. Sitting on the edge of a large National Trust forest, and labelled Park Ranger Station. It even looked the part as you stepped in the front door. It was through the enchanted door behind that led into a much larger, very comfortable and cosy look log-cabin-style home.

"Hang on, wasn't the outside smaller?" Rhys muttered. Gwen just patted him consolingly on the arm, to tell him this is perfectly normal don't make a fuss.

Mere seconds after they had stepped inside, a blur of blue dress and blonde hair zoomed out and pounce-hugged Draco, "Uncle Draco!" the girl cheered, "I learned to fly today!" and off she went on a cheerful exposition about how she had used a real broomstick for the first time in her life, and after half an hour she had totally wiped the floor with Teddy Lupin who had been flying for two weeks already. It ended almost five minutes later with a pouty whine, "But Victoire still won't play with me."

"That's because she thinks you want to steal Teddy from her... not her from Teddy." Sirius said with a sigh. The girl considered his words entirely too thoughtfully. "You know, I try to teach her decorum, but even my lax standards can't keep up. I swear her mother is poison."

"Who was her mother?" Jack asked sceptically, watching as the girl somewhat hyperactively turned and charged up the stairs, singing the Weird Sisters' Hippogryff song.

"John Hart." Sirius said as if this was perfectly normal.

"What?!" Owen demanded in shock. Rhys frowned in puzzlement, as if trying to figure this out without resorting to asking for the team's technobabble-laden explanation.

Jack didn't bat an eye. Gwen just blinked once, somewhat owlishly, before declaring simply, "Yep. Poison."

"How old is she?" Jack asked, a hint of anger in his tone now.

"Nearly ten." Sirius answered.

Jack blinked, did a mental calculation that was visible behind his eyes, then rolled said eyes, and shook his head, "I'm less surprised than I should be."

"What? Why? You didn't-"

"No...*I* didn't. But I think I know who did." Jack said simply.

"John isn't exactly the modest type." Gwen pointed out as Owen puzzled over it, "Or hadn't you noticed? I'm sure he bragged for hours."

"Funny... he never told us who her father was." Sirius said with a somewhat leading tone, as if he hoped Jack would tell them. Jack outright ignored the hint.

"I still don't understand." Tosh said, peering at the letter Rhys had received, "How is a ten-year-old witch meant to help us avert a temporal paradox we've already caused?"

"Maybe we should ask her." Jack suggested.

"Ellie!" Sirius shouted. The sound of feet rumbled down the stairs above them like a stampeding wildebeest, and Electra appeared, barrelled down the last flight of stairs, and came to a perfect dead stop in that eerie way that any child her age would consider a superpower... and any adult would see as a reason to watch _Children of the Corn _ again. But they all do it. Draco knew they all did it. Scorpius had recently started doing it all the time... and when he had visited the Weasleys in Diagon Alley, Fred and George's two sets of eight-year-old twins had done it _synchronised_. All four of them.

"Yes?" Electra asked, looking around with open curiosity and none of the 'what-did-I-do-this-time-and-how-do-I-talk-my-way- out-of-it' of the Weasley brood.

"Did your mother ever tell you anything about time paradoxes?" Jack asked.

Electra frowned, thinking about it, "Um... well there was a song he taught me."

"Yes?" Jack asked sceptically.

"He always said it was a magic song, a kind of old magic that we don't even learn in Hogwarts anymore." Electra said thoughtfully, "He said one day I'd have to sing it in a place of power, and it would enable a brave knight to stop the Dark Lord forever."

"See, it's like she doesn't even have any Gryffindor blood in her!" Sirius laughed, "And every time I say that..."

"Well look what happens to heroes." Electra protested, "They all get martyred or ruined in the end. I just want to do the right thing, not take a spotlight for it."

"Your mother taught you well." Jack said with a faint smile, "Did he ever tell you where this... 'place of power' is?"

"Only that there aren't many people who might know, and only one who definitely will." Electra said, "The girl who walked the Earth."

x x x

"Oh good, you're awake." a female voice chirped with false cheer.

Ianto Jones groaned, trying to reach up to clutch his head, but finding his wrists were bound at his sides. "Oh, my head."

"So the recall worked, did it?" the voice asked. He turned his head to the side and squinted through bleary eyes at her. She was young, dark-skinned, with the sort of grin that strikes fear in the hearts of those who like a quiet life... though at least it only conveyed a feeling of recklessness, rather than any sort of downright evil. "I was wondering when it would. You're a tough one to contain when you don't know all the facts. You've escaped six times, two of the guards have permanent scars, another claims you _bit_ him, and you nearly destroyed the Dark Lord's favourite experiment. Still, it's good to see you're back."

"Do I know you?"

"Melanie Williams, Slytherin alumnus and chronic Time Turner abuser at your disservice, Mr Jones. Just don't tell my mum I'm out with a strange man... she thinks I'm in county jail right now. Then again, she also thought I went to Muggle school with her, so this isn't so bad really, when you think about it. Oh, and that's not even my real name, by the way. Nobody uses those anymore."

Ianto blinked a couple of times. He did remember this woman from his time at Hogwarts. She had started first year when he was in fourth year.

"Yes, it's a lot to take in, you probably tuned out after 'Time Turner'? Most people would."

"No, I got it all... but I don't think I ever met your mum."

"Nor are you likely to, unless Time does something _really_ funny, like implode." she hesitated thoughtfully, "Oh, you know that could be fun."

"I don't want to know." Ianto shook his head, "Where am I, what's going on, and why am I apparently a prisoner?"

"It's not always easy to explain when you don't know this timeline's history. Time-travel amnesia can be a bit of a bitch when nobody explains things. I'll do my best, but since I don't know the timeline you know, I might get a few things a bit off. Okay?"

"Yes, please explain." Ianto said flatly.

Melanie grinned that terrifying grin once more, "From nineteen-ninety-three to nineteen-ninety-eight you attended Hogwarts... while another you was at Muggle school totally oblivious. When you vanished, your other self continued to attend Muggle education, ran away from home age seventeen. Got arrested for shoplifting, got scared by that experience, and went back to school, got a degree, and ended up employed by Torchwood London."

"All sounds familiar so far." Ianto said warily.

"In July twenty-oh-seven there was a bit of trouble there. They like to play cover-up, but I did manage to get details along the lines of two sets of aliens invaded, fought each other, then some bright spark disappeared the lot of them and saved the day."

"Still familiar." Ianto said through gritted teeth.

"Well, right after the invasion a few salvage teams went in. Torchwood Cardiff and the Order of the Phoenix worked together on one side... but they got there a few minutes after another team left with the best toys. See, I joined the Death Eaters out of morbid curiosity... also the keen interest in being on the side where if I get caught by the enemy they lock me up instead of killing me. I was part of the team that infiltrated Canary Wharf, and helped them salvage... a couple of things."

"Things like...?" Ianto asked.

"Well, besides you, valuable prisoner that the Dark Lord thought you'd be before you woke up all oblivious... there's also one piece of extra-terrestrial technology locked up in the lower level of this very dungeon. The same one you tried to destroy."

"What is it?" Ianto asked, feeling sick at the thoughts that were racing through his head now.

"These aliens don't like talking to us... think we're lesser beings or some such bullshit." Melanie explained dismissively, "In fact, it's gone to quite extreme lengths not to identify itself since we captured it. But... since you've got your memories back, I'm sure I could introduce you."

Much as Ianto did _not_ want to meet any of the possibilities running through his mind right now, well he would rather know what it was than not.

He just hoped and prayed that it wasn't Lisa.

x x x


	138. Where The Hart Is

x x x

**Chapter 138: Where The Hart Is**

x x x

The Torchwood team, plus Draco, Sirius, Electra and another small boy of about four or five, were gathered on couches in Sirius' living room.

It was the morning after they had returned to their own time, only to find that the Hub had been badly damaged - not unusable, but in Owen's opinion thoroughly ransacked, then roughed up a bit for good measure - and Ianto was absent, presumed dead.

Nobody told them how he'd apparently died only where and when... which left about three most likely options, given the currently available information. Cybermen, Daleks, or Death Eaters. Even Owen wasn't inconsiderate enough to start placing bets. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had always thought of Ianto as a friend... in spite of the disagreement over the Rift a few months back (linearly speaking... god, he hated time travel).

"Who's the kid?" Owen demanded, in an attempt to distract himself from this train of thought.

"Jamie Potter." Sirius said simply.

"Sirius here is everybody's second choice after the Weasley clan, for adopting orphans from the Dark Lord's reign of terror."

"I had to fight Molly for him." Sirius observed vaguely, bouncing the child on his knee as he spoke, "She didn't believe her daughter would name ME primary carer in her will. Harry, she could believe... Ginny not so much." He glanced up at Jack, "Believe it or not, he's named after you. Jack James Potter."

"But you're a rotten role model, so I started calling him Jamie, and it stuck." Draco announced cheerfully.

"Dare we ask Electra's middle name?" Owen muttered, eyeing the girl, who was sitting in the middle of the floor playing with a deck of Exploding Snap cards.

"Melody." Sirius shrugged, "He said it was for an old girlfriend."

Gwen was frowning, as she asked sadly, "Ginny died as well?"

"A few years before her husband." Draco said with a particularly deep scowl, "About two weeks after she told us she was pregnant again."

Gwen cringed... and then again when she saw the bloody rage flare up in Jack's eyes, "Who killed her?"

"Walden Macnair." Draco answered, "Who I am well assured was diced up and fed to the Acromantula of Hogwarts' forest... after six months of the Cruciatus curse."

Jack shook his head, "Harry always was too kind to his enemies."

"Harry only got about an hour with him." Sirius observed, "Then we caught up to him. Once he told us what happened... well... Molly kind of took over from there."

The silence in the room was slightly sickening... and Gwen was a bit disturbed by the way Electra had been paying careful attention to that conversation, as if taking notes.

"Is this a suitable subject to be discussing in front of the children?" Tosh asked, also watching Electra as she said it.

"She's heard worse, and Jamie's still a bit young to get it." Sirius dismissed.

"When did John die?" Jack asked suddenly, as if snapping out of a distant reverie.

"Bit over a year ago." Sirius answered.

"How?" Jack persisted.

"Fighting off Death Eaters in London." Sirius said, now suddenly quite wary.

"Where, precisely, in London?"

"He was with us when we tried to loot Canary Wharf." Draco answered bluntly, "His last words were some rude remark about timelines that only you seemed to get."

"Exact words, please." Jack said bluntly.

Draco blinked in surprise, but then answered carefully, "_'He's going to be so pissed off when the timelines catch up to him.'_"

Jack took all of three seconds to think that through... and just like that, he fell back into a nearby chair, laughing like mad.

x x x

"Are the handcuffs really necessary?" Ianto asked, "You've already got an immobilising spell on my arms."

"I like handcuffs." Melanie- or Mels, as she has requested he call her- said cheerfully, as she guided Ianto through the dungeon corridors, "Handcuffs are fun."

Ianto made a mental note to try to avoid introducing her to Jack... ever.

It was at this moment that they stopped by a very solid looking door, and Mels waved her wand to unlock the chains and bolts on it. The room was total darkness, until they stepped inside, which triggered enchanted candles to flare into life... revealing something that made Ianto's blood run cold.

Chained up in the room, immobile and silent... was a Dalek.

Ianto stared in horror for all of ten seconds before Mels finally asked, "You recognise it, don't you?" Ianto nodded slowly, and Mels led him back out into the corridor, sealing the room once more behind what felt a lot like silencing spells as well as security wards.

"The Dark Lord wants to unlock the secrets of its armour." Mels explained in a low whisper, "No spell can get through it, not stunners, not blasters, not the killing curse, nothing. Imagine the possibilities if we could harness that material. Not to mention its weapons, they cut through steel like butter, though this one does look like it took some damage."

"It's called a Dalek." Ianto whispered, "And you have no idea what it's capable of. It needs to be destroyed immediately."

"Oh yeah?" Mels asked sceptically, "And given the fact no spell can get through its armour, how do you propose destroying it, then?"

"Lasers." Ianto said flatly, turning to face her urgently, "Great big laser guns. Torchwood One had seven different models, and I'm pretty sure if you let me go I could lay my hands on at least three of them within a week. If What's His Name wants the armour, what use is the creature inside it to him, alive, anyway? If he learns how to cut it, he can mould it, right? Lasers, you need lasers."

"Hang on." Mels said sceptically, "Aren't you meant to be one of the good guys?"

"Highly relative concept." Ianto muttered, before shaking his head and continuing quickly, "Lesser of two evils. A Dalek is pure hate, it makes that xenophobic self-mutilating sociopathic bastard you call a Dark Lord look positively warm and cuddly by comparison."

Mels blinked... twice. Then shook her head, "Well, considering his interesting ability to be both anti-Muggle yet wholeheartedly embrace some of their prejudices as well as those of the magical world, I think I can safely say he's the exemplar of evil since Adolf Hitler, and we're calling this Dalek worse?"

"Yes. The Dalek makes Hitler look loveable by comparison as well."

"Okay, where are you getting this from?" Mels asked, folding her arms and eyeing him dubiously.

Ianto took a deep breath, "There are records kept by Muggle agencies which have fought Daleks in the past. They have documents of psychological investigations on these things... admittedly, old footage captured on extra-terrestrial recording technology, but it's pretty clear-cut. They were believed to have been wiped out during a great interplanetary war, but then one day an army of them just showed up at Canary Wharf out of the blue, so I'm not sure if I should discredit that source or chalk it up to the Daleks' tenacity... but basically, their self-identified purpose for existing is to exterminate all life that is not Dalek."

Mels contemplated this for all of half a second, then shrugged and drew her wand... which she aimed at Ianto.

A moment later his hands were free of both the binding spell and the handcuffs. "If I get caught by the good-guys for this, you better get me a nice cushy cell miles away from Azkaban, you hear me?"

Ianto grinned and nodded, before realising he still didn't know where he was or which way to the exit. The look on his face must have told Mels as much, because next thing he knew she was holding out a small, somewhat crumpled, origami bird to him. He wasn't sure if it was on purpose, but the bird vaguely resembled his own Animagus form, rather than the typical crane most origami birds are made in the image of.

"Portkey." she said simply. He moved to take it, but she shook her head, and pulled the object back, "Oh, I'm coming with you." and with that she took his hand and activated the Portkey.

x x x

Martha Jones was having a relatively quiet day. Her job with UNIT didn't generally afford her many of those, especially with the rise in unexplained activity in and around the British Isles. In spite of their best efforts they just weren't able to pinpoint the problem, beyond the fact it seemed to have been going on for about six years and escalated dramatically around the same time as the Master's rewound attempt at world domination.

None of it had been happening _during_ that Year That Never Was. Whatever the Master did when he initially took over and wiped out one tenth of the population had apparently also eliminated the cause of this problem. Unfortunately, he had done a _lot_ of damage, so that didn't really narrow their search parameters down very much. It could even have been due to the planet quarantine message he sent out when he took over, to dissuade alien invaders... though that wouldn't really explain why it was so clearly centred around Britain.

Martha was sure it was caused by something that had already been here. She just didn't know what.

This quiet day gave her the opportunity to try doing some historical research instead of just reacting to events as they happened. She could try and aim for some pre-emptive measures instead.

That is, until the phone rang.

Martha picked it up, and uttered a bored and exasperated, "This better be important."

"Martha Jones, voice of a nightingale." Jack Harkness' smooth voice filtered over the line, and Martha couldn't help a smile flitting across her face at the sound, "What's got you in such a bad mood?"

"Oh, the usual." Martha sighed, "Unexplained activities coming out our ears, I get one day of peace to try and research it, and the phone rings. If this had been my CO and anything but a confirmed sighting, I'd have chewed his ear off."

"Kinky." Jack purred.

"Oh, stop it." Martha groused, trying not to giggle all the same. "You better have called for a good reason yourself, mister."

"I might have a bit of a lead on your spate of 'unexplained activity'. It's not confirmed extra-terrestrial, is it?" Jack asked.

"Well, not technically. Why, what do you think it is?"

"Come meet me, and I'll tell you."

"Oh, this better be big." she sighed. If he was going to lead her on a wild-goose-chase, she swore... the things she would do to him would not be pleasant one little bit.

"Oh, it is." Jack said in a tone that held a very clear double-entendre.

"Stop it." she warned.

"Come on, you know where I live. Meet me in, say, half an hour?" he asked.

"Cardiff plaza, right?" she asked, resigned to the fact you just did not turn Jack Harkness down for a date. Even if it was an evil-alien-hunting entirely-platonic date. You still didn't turn him down. He was just a force of nature like that.

"Right."

She smiled faintly, quickly typing up an email to her CO to tell him she was going AWOL by request of 'a higher authority'... which to them usually meant the Doctor, but she didn't see any reason to clarify and disillusion them of that belief. "Be with you in twenty."

x x x

Twenty minutes later, Martha was hopping out of a taxi in Cardiff, and walking out onto the plaza. She was entirely unsurprised to find Jack standing there waiting for her, though perhaps a little bit surprised to see the company he was keeping.

To his left where two women and a pasty man who greatly resembled the stereotypical laddish type. One of the women was white with black hair and a poorly concealed firearm, the other was younger, Asian, and clutching a laptop. All three looked professional and gave off the in-the-know vibe of an operative, to the point she was quite certain they were his Torchwood 'team'.

To his right were two more pale men, one dark-haired, the other white-blond, both quite attractive in vastly different ways. The dark-haired man was handsome the way Jack was, the bad-boy-but-damn-it-he's-gorgeous. The blond was aristocratic, with sharp near-vampiric features. Both these men wore older styles of clothing, though both managed to make it look good where many goth teenagers failed.

The most out-of-place individual present was a small blonde girl, maybe nine or ten, holding the handsome man's hand and half-hiding behind him. She didn't look like she was related to him at all, but the familial kind of trust was clearly there in the way she clung.

"Well this wasn't what I was expecting." Martha said, scanning the group one more time, eyes lingering on the girl warily, before returning to Jack, "Care to fill me in?"

Jack gestured for Martha to follow them... but before she could take a step two more people appeared out of thin air, with the sound of a whip-crack.

A young man in a grievously abused business suit, and dark-skinned woman who barely looked out of her teens, with dreads, leather pants, and a deliberately-ragged-design of shirt that may as well have 'I'm a rebel' painted on it in neon letters.

"Never again!" the young man protested, "You never even got a licence, did you?"

"Nope." the younger woman grinned, folding her arms in a clear 'and I'm meant to care?' gesture.

"Ianto." Jack said, sounding shocked and... relieved... before the young man could utter the retort that was clearly on the tip of his tongue. And after taking two steps to close the distance between them, Jack promptly put said tongue to much better uses, snogging him senseless.

The younger woman grinned and glanced around at the others assembled, "Do I get a kiss as well?" she asked generally. Her eyes landed- after a moment of hesitation on the dark-haired man- on Martha... who she then eyed up more appraisingly, grin widening in appreciation as if she'd just decided on exactly who she wanted that kiss from.

A few years ago, Martha would have blushed and turned away in shock. Having met Jack at all, however, she knew how to handle this kind of attention, and simply raised a sceptical eyebrow.

This expression was met by a challenging 'go on, I dare you' look. Martha's answer was to touch her engagement ring pointedly. The woman shrugged and eyed her up once more in a way that clearly indicated this meant very little to her. Martha shook her head and turned her attention back to Jack and Ianto, who had just come up for air.

"We thought you were dead!" the older-looking woman said, rushing over and hugging Ianto. Her gesture was quickly followed by hugs from the other two people Martha had guessed were part of Jack's 'team', as well.

Once Ianto received a respectful nod from the blond man, and a brotherly pat on the shoulder from the dark-haired man, Martha turned her now impatient attention to Jack, "I believe introductions are in order?"

x x x

Electra Hart- better known as 'Ellie' to her friends and '_HOLY SHIT, IT'S HER! RUN AWAY!_' to her enemies- was looking around warily at the assembled adults visiting her home. The last time she had seen so many people had been at Victoire's last birthday... and most of them had been Weasleys.

She hadn't really minded the strangers before, but now there were so many of them and the air felt all serious instead of just friendly. Introductions had gone really fast, but she had carefully taken note of all the names. She already knew Sirius and Draco. Then there were Jack, Owen, Gwen and Tosh, who had been here earlier. Now Martha, Mels and Ianto had joined them as well.

Jack and Mels had held a heated discussion on the subject of Dark Lords, and the difference between the right side and 'the right side for self-preservation'. Now they were not-talking to each other.

Jack had then explained to the others that Ellie was John Hart's daughter. Now Ianto was giving her a very creepy look. Like he was realising something horrifying.

It felt like everyone knew there was some kind of tension building by the way he stared at her. They all stayed quite in anticipation. Jack looked like he was smiling, the others were just confused. Then...

"Y-you're..." Ianto stammered with shock.

Suddenly Owen burst out, "_I KNEW IT!_" he crowed, "It's the nose! And the eyes!"

"Owen, shut up!" Jack glared at him.

Ianto sat back in the chair he had been perched on the edge of... stunned.

"What is it?" Gwen asked.

"She's... she's my daughter." Ianto said shakily.

Draco and Owen both burst out laughing, though Draco managed to stifle it pretty quickly.

Ellie stared at Ianto. "I'm what?"

"John Hart's your mother." Ianto said slowly, "And you're exactly how old?"

"Ten years, two months." Ellie answered promptly.

"Add about nine months to that..." Ianto muttered, "Yes... definitely." he said, a bit dazed by the revelation.

"Congratulations." Jack said with a smile.

"Yes." Ianto said sharply, bitterly, "I'm a dead-beat dad who disappeared before she was born, her mother was a psychopath... and also a man, why is _that_ not weirding more people out? And she was raised by Sirius Black of all people. Yes, congratulations are in order."

"I know what sarcasm sounds like." Ellie said, suddenly feeling cold and alone, even though Sirius was sitting right next to her. Family reunions were meant to be happy occasions. Ianto glanced her way, and she thought she saw pain or confusion cross his face.

She'd lived with Sirius for over a year, she knew adults could mess up as thoroughly as kids... but she'd known her mom for longer and her mom never messed things up. She had thought normal failures didn't apply to parents. Maybe it did apply to her dad? Maybe he was normal like other people?

"Sirius isn't that bad." Draco reasoned. "But I'll agree with you on the dead-beat dad point."

"And Hart?" Ianto asked him sceptically.

"He was just weird." Draco shook his head, "I avoided him like the plague."

"Smart move." Gwen muttered. Ellie seethed. It was okay for Draco to be a bit scared of her mom. The flirting always creeped him out when anyone but his wife did it... but what did this woman know? She'd never even met him, had she?

"John Hart was a good parent... given the circumstances, maybe exceptional." Sirius shrugged, "Molly hated him, but... well, she was always the wrap-them-in-cotton-wool type."

Ianto looked confused by this, but finally his expression softened and he basically collapsed into the chair, head back.

"I think he's in shock." Owen muttered, smirking faintly, like he thought it was all a big joke.

Martha looked from Ianto to Ellie and back again before asking, "So why _is_ everyone okay with the fact her mother was a man?"

"Fifty-first century biology really is fascinating, Martha." Jack said with a grin, "I could give you lessons some time if you like."

"Nice try." she laughed nervously, before shaking her head and dismissing the question.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a bit, then Ianto spoke quietly, "I'm sorry." he was looking right at Ellie now, "If I'd believed him, I would have stayed."

They all turned to look at him for that.

"He told me, right before we activated the time crystal... told me he was pregnant. Thought he was joking, because... well, he's a man, I didn't know that was a thing where he's from."

"Like I said..." Jack grinned, "I'm offering free lessons... though what he dosed you with for you not to have noticed, I think I want to go back in time and hurt him, at least a little bit."

"If I recall that night correctly..." Ianto said carefully, "I consented before he broke out the mind-altering chemicals. Well... do Alteran fall-flowers count as mind-altering chemicals?"

"Not in non-toxic doses, no." Jack said, laughing now. Then he sighed, "I miss our Pensieve."

Ianto rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile, "You're incorrigible. You _and_ him both."

"Thank you." Jack grinned... though it fell after a moment when they all seemed to remember the man they were talking about was dead.

Ellie wasn't too bothered, though they were all shooting her concerned looks now, and it was making her feel self-conscious.

Her mom had taught her death wasn't to be feared or felt bad about... just put off until the latest reasonable opportunity. Yes, she had been upset at the loss at the time, but she was quite happy living with Sirius and Jamie.

Maybe Ianto could join them, now he knew she was his daughter? He was quiet, she didn't quite know what to make of him, but he seemed nice enough. Nobody acts nice when they're in shock, but he got past the anger at her mom really fast, and didn't seem angry at her at all.

Finally Ianto sighed, "If I could go back and change one thing right now... you know, besides the Dark Lord regaining power... I'd make him _not_ name her Electra... through any means necessary."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Owen grumbled.

Jack nodded slowly, a faint flicker of a smile on his face as he met Martha's eyes, "Psychiatrist's field day." Martha's eyes lit up to show she got a totally different joke, as well as the one the other two were talking about.

Ellie frowned, "I don't get it."

"Best it stays that way." Ianto sighed, "Although, given the gender issues, I'm not sure what to make of his choice."

"Knowing him..." Jack began.

"Sometimes I really wish I didn't." Ianto laughed, shaking his head.

"I also don't get it." Sirius said. Draco leaned over and whispered in his ear. Sirius stared at him, "That's just SICK!" Draco nodded slowly.

"You know, I've actually met Freud." Jack observed idly.

"Oh, don't start." Ianto rolled his eyes, laughing.

"If it's any consolation, we tend to call her Ellie." Draco offered, "Something I started for that very reason, Ianto."

Ianto smiled, "Thank you. I mean it, really." he looked to Sirius, "Thanks for taking care of her."

"She's terrifyingly self-sufficient." Sirius admitted, "I just have to put food on the table and make sure she doesn't teleport onto the roof."

"I only did that twice!" Ellie protested.

"Both times when there were Muggles in the area." Sirius laughed, "I swear you did it on purpose."

Ellie pouted. Sirius melted. Ellie grinned inwardly... that always worked. Sirius was such a puppy at heart.

"Look, I hate to interrupt." Martha said, carefully and politely cutting into the conversation, "But why exactly did you call me, Jack?"

x x x


	139. Words Of Power

x x x

**Chapter 139: Words Of Power**

x x x

Martha had overlooked the dimensionally transcendental building, and been mildly amused when she heard the dark-haired man named as Sirius Black. She had thought it was a trick of technology, something she was sure Torchwood would play with given half the chance, and maybe the name was a joke or codename.

Electra Hart was a strange child, but given what Martha could make out of the history, over the course of the conversation, this wasn't that shocking. Fifty-first century biology was all she wanted to know about that, thank you very much.

But now she had finally insisted they tell her why she was spending her quiet day with them, and how it would help her figure out the strange pattern of unexplained activity she had been investigating. Yes, the company was, well, interesting... but it wasn't very productive, was it?

"You've read the Harry Potter books, right?" Jack asked her bluntly.

The blond man covered his face with his hand and grumbled at this.

"Yes." Martha said warily, drawing out the word carefully.

"I hate those books. They really make me look bad." the blond muttered.

"Admit it, Malfoy, you made yourself look bad." Sirius laughed.

Martha choked as the pieces all fit into place. If this was true, then... "So... you're telling me magic is real?"

They all nodded sagely.

"And you're Draco Malfoy." she pointed to the blond, who nodded, "And you're Sirius Black." He nodded as well. She hesitated, "But you're supposed to be dead, aren't you?"

"I've discovered the books aren't entirely accurate." Tosh piped up, "We've theorised they've somehow remained unaltered by our interference in history."

Martha blinked, "Interference?"

Jack rolled his eyes, half-laughing, "We were sent back in time, by something beyond the abilities of either our technology or the wizarding world's best divination to understand. It turned us into pre-teens, gave us the ability to use magic, and sent us to Hogwarts."

"We arrived at the beginning of what was the third book in that series, Prisoner of Azkaban." Tosh offered.

"See, you even get a title reference. What do I get? Evil bigoted git and a coward who can't kill to save his life." Draco grumbled, sulking dramatically.

"So... you're not bigoted, then?" Martha asked him sceptically.

"Now, I didn't say I _wasn't_ a _bit_ of a git when I was a kid." Draco hedged carefully.

"He outgrew it around the time he and Jack hooked up." Mels put in with a somewhat evil grin.

Martha looked from Jack to Draco and back again, "Really? You two?"

Draco shook his head, "That was _not_ the catalyst for my reconsideration of my moral standing." he protested, "It was caused a number of different factors."

"That all came together when you and Jack did the horizontal tango in the dungeons." Mels insisted gleefully.

"Do we still have our wands?" Ianto asked making a show of looking around, "Can someone silence her please?"

"Gladly." Draco said, obliging with a wave of what was clearly a magic wand. Mels protested, but now she made no sound, in spite of attempting to shout at him.

"Seriously, though." Martha insisted, "You two?" she looked from Jack to Draco and back again.

"It's Jack Harkness." Owen said with a sneer, "Are any of us really surprised?"

Martha shook her head, laughing. Okay, so she wasn't surprised. It was just she hadn't ever thought about the characters in the books that way... let alone as real people. Which they clearly were.

Oh god, she was talking to Draco Malfoy and Sirius Black. And Draco just did magic right in front of her. And this house probably wasn't dimensionally transcendental by technological means, but by magic, as well!

She shook her head, "Wow. This is just... wow." she paused for a moment as it continued to sink in. As it became, well, real. "Magic is real." Another moment of hesitation. They all gave her the time to adjust, and finally she sighed, "But where do I come into all this?"

"Well..." Jack said, with a guilty expression, "When we interfered with the timelines... we might have allowed the Dark Lord to not-die when he was meant to. Now we need to go back and fix it again, but... well, the Doctor sabotaged my Vortex Manipulator last time you saw me, and John said his wasn't working because we were causing a time paradox anyway, so that's not an option. He did seem to come up with a solution, though, and told Electra how to fix it... but it was vaguely worded, and I'm not sure what to do next."

"But you were sure you needed me?" Martha asked dubiously.

"Well..."

Jack looked even more guilty, which was saying something, as he had basically just admitted to letting an evil overlord run free. A very bad thing considering he had plenty of experience with those and knew how dangerous it was that...

And Martha just realised that this meant _Voldemort_ was behind the spate of 'unexplained activity'. Wow, another shock to her system... though it made way more sense than her CO's theory that the Slitheen were trying another scam like last time.

"The vaguely worded kind-of prophecy that John told Electra, and she told us..." Jack explained, "Was that she has to sing a magic song in a 'place of power', and only 'the girl who walked the Earth' would know where that place might be."

Martha's eyes widened. Then she started to laugh. And within seconds she had descended into fits of hysterics.

This had to be some kind of bad joke, right? Except she'd seen all the evidence. It wasn't that much, but it was conclusive enough. "Oh my god." she laughed, "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"So you know where, then?" Jack asked, smiling hopefully.

Martha worked hard to reign in her laugher, nodding as she did so, "It's... oh my god, I can't believe... it's the Globe Theatre." she laughed, "It has to be. That's the only thing that makes sense." she was beginning to sober up now, and muttered, "Mind you it doesn't make _much_ sense." Another snort of laughter escaped her lips and she finally settled for just smirking incredulously.

"Why?" Ianto asked, "What makes you so sure it's there?"

"Well, I went to see Shakespeare with the Doctor. You know, live." she nodded to Jack, "And we got to see the lost play, Love's Labours Won."

"I always wondered about that one." Jack muttered.

"It was a good show... lousy ending, mind you." Martha said, grinning in spite of herself. "There was this bunch of ancient aliens called Carrionites. They had kind of hypnotised the architect of the Globe into making it to their specifications, and used some sort of energy from 'words of power', and the fourteen sides of the Globe to try to summon the rest of their race back from the Dark Times."

Jack nodded encouragingly, "Sounds like your average day out with the Doctor."

"Oh, tell me about it." she laughed, "Of course, the Doctor turned their plan against them. Got the Bard himself to come up with words of power to banish the Carrionites again. Well... with a bit of help." she smirked.

"What?" Jack prodded.

"Nothing." Martha blushed.

"Tell me." Jack insisted, grinning.

"Well, Will turned to the Doctor for help with a few words. The Doctor turned out some space-time coordinates or something. Then _William Shakespeare_ looked to _me_ for his last words. All I could think of was Expelliarmus. The Doctor and I had been talking about the books when he was theorising about the Carrionites. Not that he told me any of it was _real_, of course."

Jack laughed, "Of course."

"And it worked. They got banished. That silly little word saved the entire human race from invasion and destruction." Martha said with awe, "But the thing is, even though it burned down and got rebuilt twice, the Globe's still there, and it's still got those fourteen sides. I imagine if there's some prophecy about words of power and me knowing where you've got to say them... well it's just got to be the Globe, hasn't it."

Jack grinned and hugged her enthusiastically, before turning to look at Electra, "You know the magic song, right?" she nodded, "You want to go visit the Globe theatre? It's a really nice place, though I hear it was more fun back when it was a fire hazard."

"Oh yeah, loads of fun." Martha grinned, "When you're not being invaded by aliens."

"Oh, so many ways I could take that sentence, Martha." Jack laughed.

"Jack, please don't start." Ianto said weakly. It was then that Martha realised Electra was looking to Ianto for direction. A moment later, Ianto noticed it as well, "What do you want to do, Ellie?" he asked, "Your mother did want you to do this when the time came, but it's always going to be your choice."

Electra looked nervously to the large group of adults surrounding her, and Martha realised the poor child must feel overwhelmed at all of this going on around her. When Ellie looked back to Ianto it was with a hesitant kind of determination, "Yeah, I think I'm ready."

x x x

"So Jack..." Martha said carefully.

They had finally got some time alone, after Jack had compromised with Sirius to do the trip to the Globe tomorrow. The others had all gone back to their respective homes, Ianto had stayed with Sirius and Ellie for the night, and now Jack and Martha were in a small cafe in Cardiff, near a five star hotel Jack had booked for her for the night.

"Have you read the seventh book?"

Jack's hand froze in mid-air, forkful of his meal forgotten as his mind cast back to it. "I got the summary from Tosh." he answered after a moment. There was a deep and pained tone in his voice, and she watched with detached discomfort as he set his cutlery down and turned his full attention to her. "It doesn't look that bad, but there's no guarantee that will work, after all the meddling we did."

"But there _is_ a guarantee that not doing it will cause all the chaos we've been living in for the last six years?" Martha asked sceptically, "I'm guessing he came back six years ago, since that's when these incidents UNIT have been tracking began."

Jack chuckled weakly. Anyone else, he'd be surprised they were taking the revelation so well... but Martha had travelled with the Doctor, and he knew that to be able to cope with that one had to be able to take the strange and unusual in stride. "If we do find a way to undo it, it'll change history. We won't remember this conversation. The last ten years will get rewritten, hopefully back to the way they're meant to be."

Martha smiled, "You know, I'm a bit surprised I hadn't figured it out by know. You'd think, having read the books. It just seemed so ridiculous." she laughed, and repeated, "Riddikulus!"

"Now, don't start." Jack was also laughing now, "If we see a Boggart, I'll just stand in your way and it'll be very friendly, I promise."

"Oh dear, dare I ask?"

"My future self as an evil overlord." Jack shrugged vaguely, "He has a thing for the Master, and I don't think it's restricted to choice quotes, either."

Martha doubled over laughing, "The scary thing is I can picture it!" she giggled.

"Exactly." Jack said, maybe a bit too flatly, because Martha seemed to sober up as he said it.

"You know, I think mine would actually be him. You know, the Master." she said, shifting a bit.

"Worth testing, maybe?" Jack asked.

"Think I'll pass, thanks." she shook her head, grinning all the same.

"A toast?" he raised his glass to her.

"To rewinding messed up timelines." she said, raising her own glass to his.

Jack grinned, "I'll drink to that."

x x x

Ellie couldn't sleep.

This was the reason Draco couldn't sleep either. The girl had apparently tiptoed down from her room at Sirius' house and called Draco over the Floo. Draco wondered what Sirius would say to that, given the fact the war had raised the cost of Floo powder something dreadful.

Still, now Ellie was sitting in his drawing room, nervously picking at the rug on the floor. The Malfoys had got their Manor back after last war, and proceeded to made it so impenetrable that Voldemort could trick every Muggle world leader into nuking Wiltshire, and the Manor and all its inhabitants would remain unscathed, damnit! At least if John Hart's calculations on nuclear warheads were accurate.

"So what is it, Ellie?" Draco asked amicably, handing her one of two mugs of hot chocolate that he had gone to the trouble of making himself... because somehow when you're tense and upset doing that tiny little chore yourself makes the resulting product vastly more satisfying.

That and Ellie didn't like House Elves. She said they creeped her out. When prodded for more details, she always shrugged and muttered about indentured servitude. Sometimes Draco wondered what the hell John Hart had taught her... then he would kick himself and remind himself who he was thinking about, and that he was better off not ever asking.

"It seemed romantic when he told me." she said, frowning, "That I'd get to help a hero save the world by sending them back in time."

"But...?" Draco asked leadingly. He had known this was the direction the conversation would take before she'd even said a word.

"But I'd be sending them back in time." she frowned more, "I've heard all about Time Turners and stuff. Auntie Hermione always says-"

"When did she get dubbed Auntie?" Draco wondered aloud, with some mild distaste. He didn't hate the Muggle-born woman any more, but the idea of her being counted as family made him slightly nauseous for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with her bloodline. She just plain scared the hell out of him when she wanted to.

"When Uncle Sirius adopted Jamie."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Of course."

Ellie gave Draco a LOOK, and then repeated in the determined way of small children who don't appreciate being interrupted, "Auntie Hermione's always saying, you can't interfere with the past or it'll have dire consequences."

"And since she's been mentoring you about anything ever, you must know what those words mean." Draco said with amusement.

"I already knew." Ellie said flatly.

Okay, so Draco wasn't used to nine-year-olds, even if he was Ellie's favourite 'Uncle' (through absolutely no blood ties, the title just managed to stick to anyone Hart introduced to the girl by that word). He was sure they weren't meant to be this observant. He wasn't this articulate at this age, was he? He couldn't remember clearly enough to be sure.

Maybe he did patronise her a bit. Maybe he should just talk to her like any other person (minus certain swear-words, though as she was raised by John Hart he wouldn't put that vocabulary past her either), and just explain anything she didn't get. It would probably be better than risking upsetting her by treating her like an ignorant child. He was pretty sure he didn't like being treated that way when he was a kid.

He sighed, and began to explain how he had interpreted the situation, "It seems to me that your mother WANTS those consequences. Seeing as how we're at war and kind of losing right now, they're more likely to be dire for the Dark Lord than for us, really."

"But if you change the past, doesn't that change the present?" she asked.

"That's kind of the point." Draco clarified.

"But it'll change you and me. We learn and grow based on what happens to us, so if what happens changes we'll be different people."

"Are you just this insightful, or did your mother give you lessons in time travel?"

Ellie stared blankly for a moment, before shrugging, "He taught me some stuff. The rest is just putting pieces together like a puzzle. I like puzzles."

Draco sighed, "Odds are, without the Dark Lord running around, your mother would still be alive. You might not be as close to me and Sirius as you are now, but you would have both parents now."

"But all I know is this world, with its war and Death Eaters and all that bad stuff. Won't I still be different?"

"Wouldn't you prefer a safe and happy world without war?" Draco asked, "I know I would, even if it did change me somehow."

Ellie thought about it for a moment, before finally saying in a somewhat shaky whisper, "I'm scared."

"It could be worse. The changes they want to make, at least you'll still definitely exist. Kids like Jamie, Scorpie and the Weasley four, they weren't conceived until after." he realised pretty quickly that this was NOT helping, so changed tack by adding, "Maybe Jamie would still have his parents, and a happy healthy little sister, now, if they change the past."

Ellie stared blankly into her barely touched hot chocolate mug, "I didn't realise I'd really be putting myself at risk for it, until now."

Draco sighed once more, and held his arms out to offer her a hug, which she immediately accepted, leaning into his comforting embrace. "I can't guarantee anything, but the odds are strong you'll still be just like you, except for fewer bad memories and maybe more good ones. I don't really think every single experience we live changes us that much. Maybe the big ones, or a lot of conditioning, but generally speaking you're still you... and I know your mother cared about you a lot, and he'll still be there for you in that alternate timeline, I'm certain of it."

Ellie sniffed and looked up at him, "What about Ianto?"

Draco really didn't like the idea of lying to the girl, so he tried his best to be diplomatic about that one, "He's still surprised he has a daughter. I don't know what he's thinking, but I know he can be fiercely protective of those he cares about, and he seemed to be warming up to you a bit, earlier."

She nodded slowly, "But if the timeline changes...?"

"I honestly have no idea." Draco said, "But can you really believe it would be worse than the Dark Lord winning?"

x x x


	140. Cause And Effect

x x x

**Chapter 140: Cause And Effect**

x x x

The Globe theatre looked so different to Martha.

Of course, it had been almost five hundred years, one relocation, two fires, and an attempted Carrionite invasion since last she'd really got a good look around. Still, it felt almost sad to see it in the cold clinical light of modern day, having been in the original building in its heyday.

Sirius had casually stunned and Obliviated the security guard, and now all ten of them were gathered in the centre of the empty theatre floor. Mels and Draco loitered off a bit to the side, whispering in undertones that sounded oddly like she was trying to reassure him of something.

Upon seeing the amazing view around them, Ellie immediately ran up onto the stage and perched on the edge. "This place is amazing." the girl cheered.

Martha turned on the spot, eyeing the walls warily, "It's an exact replica. Except with fire escapes. Fourteen sides, perfectly aligned."

"So it should work, then?" Sirius asked, real hope in his voice.

Martha nodded warily, "It's dangerous ancient magic, though." she warned, "It was around before this PLANET existed. We need to be sure of what we're doing here."

"We are sure." Ellie announced from her perch, "My mom knew what he was doing when he told me the song."

"So are you sure you want to do this?" Draco asked from across the room.

"You're asking now, after explaining to me all the good ways it can go last night?" Ellie asked sceptically, "Yes I'm sure."

"So..." Jack looked around, "What exactly are we meant to do?"

"I sing it. Stuff happens." she said blankly.

"John never liked explaining things clearly, did he?" Gwen asked flatly.

"Nope. Never." Jack agreed, "Alright, Ellie. When you're ready."

x x x

As it turned out, Ellie did not have a fantastic singing voice- Jack had heard worse, but not by as much as he'd like. Still, it seemed all that was needed were the words.

The rising sense of energy around the theatre was so intense that even Jack, who was notoriously unable to read magical signatures during his time at Hogwarts, could feel it.

It felt fundamentally powerful. Like nothing he had ever felt before. Even the Time Vortex wasn't this strong, though it did tend to go for kick-in-the-head as opposed to this less painful but far more intense feeling of awe and significance rising in his chest.

"She's singing in Latin." Ianto whispered with surprise. More than that, rhyming verse. Fourteen syllables per line, judging by the rhythm.

"It gets worse, she speaks it." Sirius observed, "Fluently."

"Well John must have raised her at least bilingual." Jack reasoned, unable to tear his eyes away from the centre of the room, where the energy seemed to be gathering. Though there was no visible evidence of it, yet. "He is fluent in four, maybe five languages. Latin is one of them. You don't spend about a tenth of your working life in Ancient Rome and not learn the local language."

"Dare I ask the other languages?" Ianto asked.

Jack shrugged, "English, German... and two alien languages, though I'm not sure how fluent it is in Risian... I know he can swear in it."

The energy coalescing in the centre of the theatre was beginning to appear in the visible light spectrum. Red, flaring like an angry sun, with shimmering gold around the edges.

"You are aware you're speaking about him as if he's still alive." Sirius pointed out. Not once had any of them been able to raise their voices above a whisper, entirely too awed by the scene before them.

"Yes. I'm a time traveller." Jack said simply, "As far as I'm concerned he _is_ still alive, because I'm just about to go back and make sure of it."

It was at this point that the gathered energy flared brighter, and reformed to greatly resemble the kind of temporal rift first-generation Time Agents- who had been issued with a Rift Manipulator instead of a Vortex Manipulator- would use to travel.

Jack stepped towards it instinctively, but he stopped when he felt Martha's hand on his shoulder.

Turning to look at her, he saw a bright and encouraging smile, "Good luck, Jack."

"Think I'm going to need it." he said, grinning right back. He was about to embark on the greatest adventure of all, and all he had to do was step through that portal. "Here goes everything."

x x x

Jack was accustomed to time travel by Vortex Manipulator. He had used the Time Turners a bit, and they were a downright pleasant way to travel, even in comparison to what he was used to. He had travelled via the Rift once before, and it had been horrible.

This felt exactly the same as the Rift.

He landed heavily on his feet, head splitting from the Rift energy he had just passed through- far worse than anything the Vortex could throw- and more than a little disoriented.

But he knew why he was here, and did his best to regain his senses quickly.

He found he had landed in a nicely appointed room, very much resembling official buildings in Britain. He couldn't place which one just by this room, but they all had a bit of a theme. It was a small lounge by the looks of it. Couches, cushy chairs, and a bar against one wall.

Usually, he would find these surroundings very welcoming after a rough time-jump, but something didn't feel right.

Shouldn't he be back in 1998, during the Battle of Hogwarts?

This definitely didn't look like Hogwarts. Nor anywhere in Hogsmeade. It could pass for somewhere in the Ministry, but he didn't see anything magical in the room. The portraits on the walls were still, and he could practically SMELL the sense of normalcy in the room.

Almost too normal, especially considering the Rift event had chosen to bring him here.

He checked his gun, and found it was still where it belonged, and still loaded. Could never be too paranoid. He had wanted to bring a wand, but between the fact none of the three wizards had been willing to loan him theirs and the fact he couldn't sense magic anymore even at the limited level he had been able to in Hogwarts, he had decided it wasn't worth it.

Just as he was returning the gun to its holster, he heard a heart-stopping sound that made him draw it again and aim for the door through which he had heard it.

It had sounded like a Toclafane.

The sound came from the next room, and he quickly moved to stand next to the door, back to the wall, ready to attack if anything came through.

No sooner had he done this than exactly that happened.

The door opened towards Jack, blocking him from view though he could see through the crack between door and frame. He just saw an unfortunately familiar face pass for an instant, as the owner of said face moved into the room.

Jack shoved the door with all his weight into the Master, before stepping out in front of the door and hitting the stunned Time Lord over the head with the butt of his gun.

He stared down at the now unconscious body on the floor.

It felt almost too easy. He had just knocked _the Master_ out cold with one entirely improvised ambush. One of his most hated enemies, completely at his mercy. Far too easy.

He checked the room from which the Master had emerged, and found it empty, save one high-backed chair in the centre of the room. Something was very wrong with this picture, and he really couldn't put his finger on it.

Much as he would love to take out the Master here and now, first he needed to know where here and now was. He couldn't afford to change the timelines in the wrong places, and while the Master's greatest crimes- while wearing this face, at least- had been erased by the Doctor, they weren't the only things he had done.

How different would the future be if he stopped the assassination of the American President? That never went well. Kennedy had been proof of that.

So, after double-checking that the Master was in fact unconscious, Jack ventured into the room instead of finishing him off. All he needed was a newspaper or calendar. Anything to give him an idea of what to do here.

What he found there was certainly not what he expected.

Aside from the lack of Toclafane- they could teleport, so maybe what he had heard was them leaving- the only thing of note here was the person sitting in the chair. Bound and gagged, but still alert, and industriously attempting to free his hands, was a man who just had to be Harry Potter.

The flash of recognition in his eyes only confirmed Jack's suspicions. He put one finger to his lips to warn Harry to be quiet, then removed the gag and started to untie his hands.

"How did you get here?" Harry whispered.

"What are you doing here?" Jack countered.

"The Death Eaters made a deal with that man pretending to be Prime Minister-"

"He's not pretending to be Prime Minister. He's only pretending to be human. He actually got elected." Jack said with a dark sort of amusement.

Harry just gave him a sceptical look, one eyebrow raised pointedly, "Look, they made a deal with him that if he helped dispose of me, he'd help them figure out some big top secret project. He knew I was a threat, something about people with hero complexes needing to be got out of the way. I'm not the only one he's been after. A woman called Sarah-Jane managed to disappear before he could catch her, and apparently some wizard in Chicago knows how to implode those flying minion things."

"Implode?" Jack asked with surprise, "Never considered that one."

Harry shrugged, his hands now free he began to untie his own feet. "He double-crossed them. As soon as they had caught me, he turned around and shot You-Know-Who with this kind of laser thing. He disintegrated, but with all the intelligence we have, I'm pretty sure he's not really gone."

Jack glanced back to the doorway, relieved to see the Master was still there, and still unconscious. He looked back to Harry and asked, "What date is it?"

"May first." Harry answered.

Jack sighed, "Damnit. I would so love to kill that man, but the rules of time travel say I really shouldn't."

Harry glanced over at the Master himself, frowning, "Why not?"

Jack stared at him, "You have changed."

"The war was meant to end almost ten years ago. It didn't." he said simply.

Jack sighed, "I'm sorry."

Harry turned to look at him, again, "Why?"

"For what I'm going to have to do ten years ago."

Harry's frown deepened thoughtfully, "If you can prevent all of this from happening... you shouldn't be."

Jack blinked hard, to hold back his emotions, "Doesn't change how much I care about you."

"I should have died that day?" Harry asked, seemingly unsurprised. Jack nodded slowly. "It's worth it. You know that, right?"

As he said that, another Rift event opened up between them and the Master's unconscious body. Jack took one last look at his hated enemy, before turning to Harry, deadly serious, "I mean it. Don't kill him."

Harry snorted weakly, "If you insist." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before looking to Jack with a sad smile, "Good luck."

With those words, he turned and Apparated away. Jack took a moment to gather his thoughts and feelings together. Then another to brace himself for the Rift travel. And he stepped through the shimmering red-gold portal, hopefully back again in time.

x x x

This time Jack found himself falling out of the Rift into the middle of what looked like a graveyard.

He had arrived between the side of a small mausoleum and a low hill, almost as if he had been purposefully placed neatly out of sight. The place felt familiar, and peering around the corner of the mausoleum he could see a few strikingly familiar grave statues. Even though it was broad daylight now, as opposed to the gloomy dusk it had been back then, he was almost positive this was the same graveyard he and Harry had been transported to after the Third Triwizard Task.

"You'll never get away with this!" a woman's voice shouted from the direction of those familiar gravestones.

Her words were followed by cruel mocking laughter. "You have no idea what you're dealing with, girl!"

Even at his worst as a con-man, that would have got him at the very least interested. Now, he would see to it the woman's words were prophetic. Careful to keep to the shadows, he hurried over to the source of the voice. One of the tombstones he passed was shattered, but the damage was old. He remembered its destruction from the night of the third Triwizard Task.

Peering out at the source of the voice, he saw a red-haired woman tied to a tombstone, a large cauldron in the centre of an area of open grass, and a man wearing a Death Eater mask pacing between the two, still laughing, "It is almost complete, now. You will provide me with the final ingredient for the Dark Lord's rebirth!"

Jack watched and waited, gun ready to shoot the instant the man made a move on his victim. But in the meantime, he would take all he could get of the bad-guy-monologue the Death Eaters seemed so fond of. Knowing what was going on here would _really_ be helpful right now.

"The complex potion took me months to brew, and finding the final ingredient- well, you can imagine how upset the Dark Lord was when your precious Harry Potter went into hiding. But you'll do just as well."

Jack saw the woman's eyes dart towards him. She must have caught a glimpse of movement, or a reflection of light off his gun. When she saw him, her somehow familiar eyes lit up with hope... and a Plan. The man, on the other hand, had his back to Jack and remained blissfully oblivious.

"How exactly do you think _I_ can help you bring _him_ back?" she sneered at her captor.

"Oh, from here on out it's quite simple really. Hard part's over." he gestured to the simmering cauldron, "I merely need to add two or three special ingredients." at this point his voice took on the imperious intonation of quoting something great and wondrous, "Bone of the father, unknowingly given. Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken. These will restore the Dark Lord."

The red-head arched an eyebrow pointedly, "Forcibly taken. Ah, I see." She fought back a grin just in time, as the Death Eater turned to face her.

"Of course, the flesh is... optional." the man said hastily, a bit too pleased with that part, "The Dark Lord needs all the fully capable servants he can get in the current political climate."

Slyly, the woman asked, "But wouldn't that weaken the ritual?"

"It's all about intention." he clarified, "I'm sure my _other_ sacrifices in his name will compensate."

"Uh huh. Intention." she deadpanned, before yawning pointedly, "Well, best get on with it, then. Hurry up, I bet you don't have all night."

It did make sense to Jack. If she didn't resist the blood being taken, it wouldn't react right if the spell required intent. Still, he doubted it was entirely worth it, even as he watched the Death Eater cut her wrist with a ritualistic dagger, and take a few drops of blood to the cauldron.

When he had his back turned, she gazed pointedly at Jack, gesturing with her eyes towards the Death Eater expectantly.

Jack didn't hesitate. He shot the man in the shoulder. The vial of the woman's blood fell into the cauldron, but so did a significant splash of his as he cried out in agony and stumbled to the ground, dropping the dagger which skittered away from his reach.

As Jack approached, the man laughed, "It's too late. It will still work. Nothing you can do will stop it now!"

"I'd not be so sure." the woman crowed excitedly, "I let you take my blood willingly. There's some of your own in there. It takes three breaks to utterly destroy a ritual potion... and you missed something."

"It will still work! The flesh is unnecessary!" the man whined. Even as he said it, the potion began to roil as the magical reactions within took hold.

"Oh, let me guess." Jack said with a sigh, picking up the dagger the Death Eater had dropped and walking over to the smoking cauldron.

It was obvious. The woman had given him all the right cues. He held out his left hand over the cauldron, and placed the blade of the knife between his ring and little fingers, "See, in case you can't guess... I'm his enemy."

"_NOOO!_" the Death Eater howled in horror. That answered that question.

Without hesitation, he thrust the blade down hard, easily if painfully slicing off the smallest finger of his left hand. The instant the severed digit touched the surface of the potion, the liquid within turned from shimmering grey to jet black, and fell still as glass. Not even a ripple. It had stopped.

Jack fought back all instincts to show pain, as well as the automatic reaction to clench his left hand. Blood flowed freely, but he didn't pay it any attention- it would have flowed faster if he flexed the muscles around the injury.

He turned on the Death Eater, dropping the knife and drawing his gun to bear on the man, "Take off the mask."

Slowly, shakily, the man did so. It was Walden Macnair.

Jack shot him in the head.

He then hurried over to the prisoner, and- clumsily with only one good hand- began to untie her.

"Thanks, Jack." she said as she stepped away from the tombstone and drew a wand from her pocket.

He barely noticed as she stopped the bleeding on first his hand then her own wrist with a flick of the wand. He was too busy staring at her and trying to remember how he knew her.

Finally, "Ginny?"

She nodded, smiling. It had to have been at least five years since he had last seen her. She had been a teenager then, but now she was a grown woman. Her hair was tied back and shorter, and her face looked careworn as though she had seen more in her short life than anyone ever should. But yes, he could see the resemblance now to the young girl she had once been.

Jack sighed, looking down at his left hand, now missing a finger but at least no longer bleeding. Next time he died, that would regrow. Such an easy sacrifice to make. Like taking a Killing Curse for Ianto. Magic clearly was not designed to play well with the Time Vortex.

"How did you find me?" Ginny asked.

"It's complicated." he answered automatically, so used to evading the truth even with friends.

"I've got time." she said simply.

He chuckled, but then shrugged, "After we left Hogwarts, we ended up in the year two-thousand-eight. Our own time. But it had changed. Short version, I found a way to travel back and attempt to change the course of the battle at Hogwarts, to make sure Old Snakeface died a proper and permanent death back then. Honestly, I've no idea why I made two stops along the way."

"Two?" Ginny asked, more innocent curiosity than anything else.

"Well, first I saved Harry's life about five months before I left. Now here."

Ginny hesitated only briefly at the thought of Harry's life in danger. Really, that was a routine occurrence. Then after a moment she said thoughtfully, "Most major magical rituals take three steps to make, three steps to break. Odds are, you need three steps to get to your destination. Key moments to prove intent and dedication."

Jack glanced at the still ominous cauldron, then to his left hand one more time.

"Yes, I think you've probably proved worthy." she chuckled morbidly, "If this is a magical ritual to time travel- and I've never heard of any such thing beyond the short bursts of a Time Turner- then your next step will be your final destination."

Jack felt a slight chill at those words, but nodded all the same. "I'm ready."

As he said that another Rift portal opened up behind him, shimmering red and gold energy.

"Well, for what it's worth, thank you for saving our lives." she offered, "Though given the way time works, I'm not likely to remember."

"'Our'?"

Ginny shrugged, hand moving to her abdomen shyly.

He should have guessed. The history he had heard did indeed say she was murdered while pregnant with hers and Harry's second child.

"I hope what I change will give you both a better future." he said softly.

She nodded and took a step back, eyeing the Rift event warily now, "Good luck."

And with that, he stepped back into the Rift, and fell back through time once more.

x x x


	141. Impossible

**Author's Note**: I'd like to apologise for not responding individually to each review I receive, and for the delays between recent chapters. I've been a bit preoccupied lately but I'd like to reassure you that I do mean to keep writing this until it's finished... and I love every scrap of feedback I get, I just can't find the time to reply.

If you want some friendly chat, occasional teasers, and bonus material, please check out our Facebook group.

Sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I've been busy with other things, including both real life and other fic, but I promise I'm still working on this one and fully intend to see it through to its conclusion.

x x x

**Chapter 141: Impossible**

x x x

Jack found himself within the grounds of Hogwarts, on the oh so familiar night of the Death Eater invasion. He was on the far side of the lake from the forest, safely away from the main battle which seemed to be in full swing now. Of course, in order to be safely away from the fight, he was also a not insignificant walk from the castle itself, and further still if he wanted to make it around to the Quidditch pitch.

Especially not knowing exactly _when _ he had arrived, and therefore how long he had to get there.

Something felt different about the place. Unreal somehow, as if he was watching a movie about the battle, rather than the battle itself. It took him a moment to figure out why, and he could have kicked himself when he realised it.

He had lost his magic when the crystal brought them back to the twenty-first century. He couldn't _feel _ the charge in the air from the wards around the castle, as he had become so used to over the years spent in this world of magic. Now he felt more like an outsider, looking in.

He didn't like it.

The grounds around the back of the lake and castle were wilder and less-travelled than the rest, so traversing them would be difficult, but that also had the advantage of this area being ignored and avoided by the Death Eaters. Rough and rocky, with some literal rock-climbing required at points, but at least it was relatively safe.

He heard a distant thud, followed by the sound of cheering, just beyond the castle. He couldn't see the main battle from here, but he would be willing to bet that had been the Harpies taking down a giant. If he remembered correctly, there were five giants, and during the course of the battle all of them had been incapacitated before Voldemort had even deigned to show his face on the Quidditch pitch.

He really should hurry if he wanted to change what had happened / was going to happen there.

x x x

Jack had made it about halfway around the back of the castle when he realised this was not in fact a good route.

Because the north bridge was missing.

Not blown up, or otherwise knocked down. It was simply absent.

This bridge was meant to cross the deep ravine between the rear gate of the castle and the main grounds. The same ravine the courtyard bridge and viaduct crossed further south. It had also basically been go this way or swim... and he wasn't _that _ stupid.

He peered over the edge, and decided that was not going to happen.

"It's just invisible." someone said behind him. He turned to see that it was one of the Harpies. She was petite, with wavy brown hair and a grin that could light up a black hole. "But if you don't have faith in that, I've got a ride." she added, indicating the broomstick she was holding loosely in her right hand.

Jack raised an eyebrow at that, "Did you just make an Indiana Jones joke?"

"I did indeed." the woman said chirpily, "So you want a lift or not?"

"Why are you helping me?" he asked warily.

"Because I know why you're here." she answered bluntly.

Jack gave her a Very Suspicious look for this. What were the odds of a random witch _really _ knowing what was going on here? "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" he said, hoping to find some clue from that.

"Oswin." she said, stepping closer, "Friends call me Ossy."

Just as she did so, Harry Potter's voice echoed out through the grounds, "Voldemort. This ends now. Leave Hogwarts and those within her walls unharmed, and face me in person. I'll be waiting on the Quidditch pitch."

Oswin blinked, glancing in the direction of the sound, "Well he's direct." she said simply, turning her head quickly back to Jack, "So about that lift?"

x x x

Oswin certainly knew how to handle a broom, and no mistake.

She raced around behind the castle, staying dangerously low to the ground, to keep out of sight of the battle. The stretch of open ground between the castle and Quidditch pitch was broken only by a low fence along the path that led between the two. The fence was broken in places - by the passage of time, long before the Death Eaters arrived tonight - but she did manage to use it as cover.

They had to keep their heads down, and feet up... but it did work.

They arrived on the pitch just in time to hear Bellatrix shrieking, "Get out of the way, you deviant little freak!"

Oswin kept on flying, seemingly intent on ramming Bellatrix, but Jack grabbed her arms, "No, let this part happen." he said in her ear, only just loud enough to be heard over the rushing wind.

She skidded sideways to a stop, using her foot on the ground to add real friction to the magical brakes... and they only just avoided running into Bellatrix from behind.

Bellatrix was blissfully oblivious, "My Master wants you alive, but I will kill you to get to this traitor!"

Jack saw his past self, facing Bellatrix, glance briefly at him. Confusion on his face. Jack made a gesture to go ahead. Continue exactly what he had been doing.

Jack's past-self hesitated a moment, then returned his attention to Bellatrix. Tried to speak, the complained, "Aww, that's just not fair!"

Jack rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure, in retrospect, that his attitude as a teenager had been strongly tainted by hormones. While the quote he had attempted to use was mildly amusing, it wasn't nearly as funny this time around.

"What?" Ianto asked, and while he had seen Jack and Oswin, who were now hovering just above and behind Bellatrix, he was also playing dumb. Probably in the hopes that Jack had a plan.

Which, unfortunately, he really didn't, yet.

"I can't even quote Obi-Wan Kenobi!" Jack's past self answered, "Y'know, his last words. I really wanted to."

Ianto also rolled his eyes, clearly exactly as amused with this as Jack was now, "Don't encourage her!"

"Is this another science fiction thing?" Harry asked, doing his level best _not _ to look at Jack and Oswin... and trying not to laugh as well.

"Still on Star Wars... yes." John nodded, eyes fixed on Bellatrix, in a fairly good attempt to pretend there was absolutely nothing of interest right behind her, "Although with a touch of Back to the Future as well."

Jack's past self glared at John pointedly. John blinked, feigning innocence.

"You know, I'm beginning to regret using the Fidelius Charm." Jack's past self said, "Takes all the snarky one-liners out of life. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. You'll just have to kill me."

"Jack, no!" Ianto protested, "Don't-"

But at the exact same moment, Bellatrix cried out, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Jack's past self dropped the wand a moment before the curse hit, exactly as he remembered it happening before.

And in an instant, Jack's past self was dead, Bellatrix collapsed, and Oswin lost control of her broom.

Jack just managed to reach past her and pull them in for a safe landing, at the last second, but Oswin and Bellatrix both seemed completely out of it.

"Look at Lestrange." John said calmly. Jack glanced up from where he had been trying to help Oswin, to see that both women were reacting as if in real pain. "The Fidelius Charm. They can't even understand what just happened. It's like a Confundus charm, concussion, and some nausea thrown in for good measure. Trust me, I've been there... there's an entire species, the existence of which is kept by that charm. Not very fun to date, I can tell you."

Jack sighed, standing up, "And how would you remember that, if it were true?" he asked sarcastically, as he approached the group.

Harry aimed his wand past Jack, and cast, "Stupify." on Bellatrix. He then aimed at Oswin, and asked, "She with you?"

Jack nodded, "Yes. We like Oswin. Please don't shoot her." Harry accepted this with a nod put his wand away, no further questions asked.

Ianto scowled up at Jack, from where he now knelt next to Jack's past self, "What exactly are you playing at, right now, Jack?"

"This is not a game, Ianto." he answered, picking up the wand his past self had dropped on the ground, "It's a war."

"So what are you up to?" John asked, a hint of fear in his tone.

Jack looked at him solemnly, "You were right."

"Bugger." John cursed, "I hate when I'm right about these things." there was a long pause, during which everyone standing was watching Jack, then finally John got impatient, "So what now?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Jack admitted, "I know what needs to change, but not how."

John grumbled under his breath, swearing in an alien language Jack didn't even know. He was interrupted by Jack's past self resurrecting, but then when no one else had an answer, John simply turned to face Harry, and announced, "You're a Horcrux."

Harry stared in horror, "I'm a... what?"

Jack groaned, "Did you have to be so tactless, John?"

John grinned, glancing sideways at Jack, "Have you met me?"

Jack shook his head to dismiss this, and tried to explain to Harry, "Look, Harry, I'm sorry. It's... complicated. You remember when you told Dumbledore, if he had any big secrets you couldn't know, to tell me or Ron of Hermione?" Harry nodded slowly, "Well he told me this."

"There are still two ways to fix this, you know..." John said, somewhat shiftily.

"Two?" Jack asked sceptically, "Look, I never wanted it to come to this, but I just came back from a future where Voldemort was able to resurrect after this battle... and while I've seen worse, it still wasn't pretty I can assure you."

John tilted his head to the side, "You crossed your own timeline to fix this?" Jack nodded, and John pulled a horrified face as he took a step back from Jack, "You know what that's going to do to you, right?"

"Worth it." Jack said bluntly.

"That bad?" John asked. Another nod was Jack's answer. "And you've seen worse?" Another nod. "Bloody hell." John said with a stunned shake of his own head.

From behind Jack he heard his younger self's voice, "So what's the second option?"

"I've only suggested it about a dozen times." John said, as if very suddenly exasperated. Clearly an act. "He just wasn't interested."

Harry turned to scowl at him, "What?"

John grinned, "You know, this is the first time I've told anyone this. I mean, Jack here knows I wasn't born, so much as genetically engineered... but I never did reveal the details."

"What details?" Jack's past self asked sceptically, "I mean, we know you're a psychopath."

John snorted, "There's a reason."

"We don't have all night." Jack sniped, "Voldemort should be here any minute."

John rolled his eyes, "I'm half human. One quarter I don't even know what but it's the dominant side... and the other quarter is Dementor."

Harry backed away in horror, "What?"

"How is that even possible?" Ianto asked, shocked.

It was Oswin who answered, "It's simple really. You can be part-anything and still think you're human, as long as the person who did it knew what they were doing."

Jack stared at her for half a second, "And you're what, exactly?"

"Hmm... tricky one, that." she said thoughtfully, before offering them all a bright smile, "I know I think I'm human, if that's any help."

Jack shook his head and turned back to John, "Only a quarter? You sure that could even work?"

John shrugged, "No... but there's only one way to find out, and I've never met anyone I wanted to try it on before."

Ianto, on the other hand, had other questions, "You never tried? What about by accident?"

John pulled a disgusted face, "No. Definitely not an easy mistake to make."

"And what could possibly counter Dementor DNA to make him _that _ hot?" Oswin asked suggestively.

"Nope. Not going to ask." Ianto shook his head.

Harry had his hand over his mouth now, but his words were still clearly audible, "I can't believe I almost considered letting him kiss me."

John sighed, "Look, it's not that bad, okay? Just ask Jack or Ianto. I can't hurt anyone unless I really want to. And even then, I've never tried, so I don't know how dangerous that side of me is."

Jack and Ianto exchanged a look, and it was clear that while Jack wasn't in the least bit worried that his ex was part soul-sucking-monster, Ianto was pretty disturbed by the whole thing.

Meanwhile, John continued to explain, "I've always known what I was, and learned pretty early on that I could literally taste what kind of person someone is purely by kissing them. It doesn't harm them, but I can tell a whole hell of a lot about them from it. I am absolutely one hundred percent confident that I can tell the difference between a kind and compassionate teenager, and a shard of pure evil, if you'll let me try." He smiled an almost malicious grin, "So unless you've been very good at hiding your true nature, you've got nothing to fear from one kiss."

Harry backed up a step, and looked to Jack, "What's my other option?"

It was John who answered, "Voldemort casts the killing curse on you. That destroys the Horcrux, and the curse backfires again, but it takes you with it this time. Game over... for both of you."

"So it really comes down to whether you trust John Hart." Oswin put in, "And I suppose whether or not you believe in an afterlife, since if you don't then you've nothing to fear from a Kiss that you wouldn't get from Death... but yeah."

Harry stared at her in shock, "And which would you recommend?"

"The Kiss." she shrugged, "But that's pretty strongly biased on what I've heard about the afterlife." Jack gave her a sceptical look. "What?" she asked, "I'm allowed an opinion, it's still his call."

"Trusting John Hart isn't exactly a wise move." Jack's past self observed, "But seeing as Ianto and I are still in good physical health, I'm going to say he's probably telling the truth this time."

"That makes three." Jack said with a bemused smirk.

"Three what?" Harry asked.

"Times in his life he's told the truth." Jack answered, before looking out over the pitch towards the forest. The giants had all been brought down, and the distant sky was beginning to lighten. According to his memories of the last time he was here, and the history Martha had told him, this battle ended at dawn. They didn't have much time. "And I hate to be the one to point it out, but we haven't got very long before he figures out that Bellatrix failed, and he comes to get you himself."

Harry shook his head, still blatantly sceptical of the whole idea, "You know he could be lying about being part Dementor, just to get me to kiss him. He has been trying all day."

"Yeah. With good reason." John said as if it had been blatantly obvious the entire time.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Alright, let's try it."

John seemed surprised by his easy acceptance of the suggestion, now he knew exactly what it entailed. But then he shrugged and stepped towards Harry. "Okay. This shouldn't hurt you, if I do it right. But that's purely theoretical, since no one's survived to tell the tale, before. I'm from the fifty-first century, and even _then _ I'm the first Dementor hybrid. The real ones simply do not care."

Harry was blatantly scared by this, but then drew himself up straight and nodded, "I'm ready."

"And this is why you're in Gryffindor." John grinned.

Then he grabbed Harry by both sides of his face, and kissed him. Unlike John's usual misbehaviour, however, there was something about this kiss that felt... repellent. It was not simply a case of prudish discomfort - this was _Jack Harkness _ witnessing it, he didn't even understand that mentality. No, it was something else.

Harry had frozen in place, seemingly with fear or shock. That was not, in itself, unexpected from being suddenly kissed by a mad Time Agent. Yet somehow, in spite of knowing Harry had willingly agreed to this, Jack's instincts were to stop it. Right now. He even took a step towards them, only to be stopped by Oswin grabbing the sleeve of his coat.

She wasn't even looking.

In fact, none of the others seemed willing to watch this. There had been rumours about the Dementor's Kiss being unbearable to witness. He hadn't thought they would apply to John - who was at least three quarters _not_ Dementor - but clearly it did.

It lasted almost fifteen seconds, before John pulled away... and immediately began retching as if it was going to vomit.

Harry was dazed, but quickly regained his bearings, staring around in confusion. "Did it... did it work?"

"No." John coughed, in-between gagging noises, "Nearly had it... but then I tasted it. Most disgusting thing I've ever..." he retched again, but thankfully did not actually throw up.

"Well, then..." Ianto said flatly, "Voldemort's soul makes Dementors sick. I'll add that to the list of offensive things to tell Death Eaters, shall I?"

Harry choked with morbid laughter. John gave Ianto a vaguely annoyed look, but then shrugged, "Still prefer the play on their gang name, myself."

There was silence for a moment. Then it was Oswin who asked, "So what do we do now?"

John stood up straight, clearing his throat. He looked a bit pale, almost ill actually... but he soon gathered his bad attitude around him like a shield, and answered, "Allow me. Sonorus." This time around, Jack would swear his mocking shouts felt more forced. But just as maniacal, "Tom Marvolo Riddle, you cowardly, egotistical, half-blood bastard. Sending your girlfriend to do your dirty work, that's just low. We're waiting... and unlike you, we are willing to honour the rules of a true Wizard's Duel to the death. Now get your pasty little arse out here before I start making chicken noises. Because you don't want the innocent pureblood children to hear MY impersonation of a rooster in heat."

"Roosters are male, they don't even-" Ianto muttered, trying very hard not to laugh.

"Come on!" John crowed, "Bring it, bitch!"

x x x


End file.
